I’d never told Antonio about the chance to play for Laurelhurst. I was afraid he’d say no, and I wasn’t sure I’d have the guts to go alone. But in the darkness of the study carrel I knew that it didn’t matter what Antonio did. It didn’t matter that I stuttered, that my shoes were old, my glove ratty, my jeans ripped.
Laurelhurst was my last chance.
Three
When I reached Jet City that afternoon, a crowd of people was milling around the main entrance, staring at a large sign. As I moved closer, I saw the words PROPOSED LAND ACTION in foot-high letters, but I couldn’t read the smaller words below.
Jasmine, the girl who was new to Jet City, was in front of me. She was wearing shorts and a pink tube top that left her shoulders bare. I was a little afraid of her, but I needed to know, so I tapped her shoulder. She wheeled around, angry, and then not angry. “Oh, it’s you, Laz.”
“What’s g-going on?”
She grinned sarcastically. “My family just moved in, and now we’re getting booted out.”
“What are you t-t-talking about?”
“Jet City is going to be demolished. One hundred twenty-five high-class townhomes are going to be built right here.”
“T-Townhomes?” I said, not believing. “B-Behind a d-driving range?”
“They’re tearing down the driving range, too.” Her smile broadened. “You get it double. You lose your home and your job.”
There was a roaring in my ears. “D-does it s-say when?”
“Somebody said three months.”
From across the roadway, Garrett called her name.
“Got to go,” she said, and she wiggled her fingers as a goodbye wave.
I headed down the gravel road to our trailer, where no one was home. After dropping my backpack on my bed, I walked to work. There was another PROPOSED LAND ACTION sign in the parking lot of the range. No one was crowded around it, so I was able to read everything. When I stepped into the golf shop, Mr. Matsui looked up. “You saw?”
“Is it t-true we have to b-be out in three months?”
He shook his head. “Who told you that? Summer is more like it.”
The roaring in my ears lessened. Summer meant there’d be time for Mom to find a new place, time for me to finish high school. Then I thought of my job. “Is the d-driving range g-going to stay open?”
“That’s the plan. You can work here until they tear it down.”
“What about y-you?”
“Weighing my options, as the rich guys say.” He smiled. “Chances are, I’ll be here to the bitter end, or close to it.”
His phone rang. As he answered, I grabbed the keys to the John Deere and headed out.
It was so noisy driving up and down the range that I couldn’t think, which was okay. On one pass, a golf ball whacked the metal cage protecting me, making me jump. A guy on the range pointed at me with his club, a big smile on his face, while next to him his buddy laughed.
After I’d picked up the range, I drove to the far back fence. Golf balls get caught in the net there, and the only way to retrieve them is by hand with a ball shagger.
I’d walked almost the entire fence line when I spotted Garrett and Dustin Browner heading down the gravel road toward their hangout. Dustin had been in the juvenile jail up on Capitol Hill. I tried to remember what he’d done. Stolen a car?
“That looks like fun, Laz,” Garrett said as he neared me.
“Laugh a m-minute,” I answered, working quickly.
“You missed some,” Dustin said, pointing behind me. “There’s one there and another one there. And two more there.” He snorted. “You kind of suck at your job.”
I kept going forward.
“You’ll see your brother tonight, right?” Garrett said after a while.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Have him call me. Tell him I’ve got something for him.”
“Why don’t you c-call him yourself?”
Garrett looked at the sky. “Because his phone is off or else his battery is dead. So just give him my message. Okay?”
I could feel my chest tighten, as if it were in a vise. I picked up a couple more balls and then faced him.
“N-No,” I said.
Garrett looked confused. “What do you mean,no?”
“I m-mean, you want to sell d-drugs—that’s your b-business. But k-keep my b-brother out of it.”
“You’re joking,” Garrett said, smiling in disbelief.
Instead of answering, I turned and headed back to the John Deere.
“K-k-k-keep m-m-my b-b-b-b-brother out-out-out of-of-of it-it-it,” Dustin called after me, and they both laughed.
Four
I worked until eight. When I returned to the trailer, Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking for the first time in months. Curtis, drinking a beer, sat across from her, two empties in front of him.
“You see the sign?” Mom asked.
I nodded.
Curtis took a swig of his beer. “America. Land where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.”
Mom stubbed out her cigarette and lit a new one.
“Mr. Matsui says nothing will happen until summer,” I said.
Mom blew out a stream of smoke. “I hope he’s right. Old Mr. Hastings says Christmas, but he’s always doom and gloom. Maybe they expect us to move into a stable with Baby Jesus and the donkeys.” She paused. “There’s an information meeting Friday at the community center.”
Curtis checked the time on his cell. “Where’s Antonio?”
“I d-don’t know. I’ve been at work.”
Curtis hated it when Antonio was out late on school nights. Mom had never been strict about things like that.
Right then we heard Antonio’s footsteps on the metal stairs leading up to the trailer. “Where you been?” Curtis asked once Antonio stepped inside.
“Just hanging,” Antonio mumbled.
“Did you see the sign about the townhomes?” Curtis asked.
Antonio nodded. “Yeah. I saw it. It sucks.” He turned toward Mom. “Is there something I could microwave? I’m starving.”
Mom stood. “I’ll do it for you. How about you, Laz? You must be hungry, too.”
Ten minutes later, as Curtis was watching a football game in the main room, Antonio and I were eating enchiladas, rice, and beans. As we ate, I thought about Garrett. Antonio would get his message somehow, but it wasn’t going to be from me.
“Classes go okay?” Mom asked.
“Fine,” Antonio said.
She looked to me.
I explained—my voice low so Curtis wouldn’t hear—that I was worried I wouldn’t be able to learn anything from the new algebra teacher.
“I can help you,” Antonio said. “If you want.”
“That’d be g-great,” I said. “Thanks.”
I finished eating, cleaned up, and then went to my room to listen to the Mariners game. Antonio stayed in the living room to watch football with Curtis, which only half surprised me. Some days they got along; some days they didn’t. It was a flip of the coin.
That night, I could hear the two of them shouting at the refs and groaning over botched plays. It was ten thirty before the last game ended and the television went silent. I rolled onto my side and tried to sleep. Only then did I realize I hadn’t told anyone about Laurelhurst.