Just For the Week Ch. 02

I won't though. The performance is enough. If I walk up to that mic stand, I'll trip, it will give a feedback screech, or my fly will be open...something will happen. I'll make a fool of myself and everyone will laugh. I say, "Look, Troy is the valedictorian, not me. He'll be making a speech soon enough. I'm just singing a song. The lyric speaks for itself."

~~

After dropping off Danny and Layne, I ask Tyson. "What college are you going to?"

"We're still on me, huh?" He takes in a breath and explains that he has applied to and been accepted at several. He has basketball scholarship offers to consider. He should have chosen a month ago, but everything with his dad... He says, "The good news is they all want me so badly they're willing to give me the time I need and hold a place for me."

"How do you feel about basketball? I mean, I know you're like the best basketball player in the universe. That's not what I'm asking. Is it your passion?"

"I think so? I mean, it's supposed to be, right? I know I'm good at it. And I do like it. If I'm honest though, I don't know that it's my passion."

It feels like there's something he's not saying, but I don't push it. It's been a long, emotional day for both of us. Breakfast at Donna's feels like days ago. After everything that happened since then, I'm drained. I try to stifle a yawn but can't. I stretch in my seat and when I do, my t-shirt rises a little and Tyson pokes my stomach. I jump, "Hey!"

"Sorry. I couldn't resist." He pulls out of the parking lot and we head to my house. As he drives, he explains to me that he has to be a bad boyfriend tomorrow. It's the final road game of the season and the team bus leaves at 2:00 and he won't get home until around 10:00. He says, "I can text you then if it's not too late."

"Text me any time." I'm a little bummed that I won't be seeing him in person.

As we pull up to my house, Tyson asks, "Are you going for a run tomorrow?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I have something I have to do first thing but I'll pick you up around 10:00. We can run together and then hang a little before I have to head to the school."

I take what I can get.

Two days down, eight to go.

~~

For the second morning in a row, I wake up and realize that I did not have a fantasy dream.

Tyson didn't say what he had to do this morning and I didn't ask. I've never been in a relationship before, real or pretend. I haven't yet learned how to navigate between caring interest and nosey intrusion.

He's in running clothes similar to me, and wearing a Sox hat, but backwards. He should be breaking several laws looking this cute. I say, "Hold on a second," and I spin my own cap around backwards to mirror his. I smile at him and say, "Now I'm ready."

Tyson grins, "Making fun of me is a bold move, Pearson."

"Sorry. I just thought there was a rule that you had to be under the age of ten to wear your hat backwards." I nudge his arm.

As we pull away, he says, "Well, fortunately you could pass for ten." He nudges me back.

~~

After a good run, we walk back to his car and he pops the back. Not surprisingly, his trunk is full of sports equipment. There's a basketball of course, but also bats, mitts, baseballs, a soccer ball, a football, giant rollerblades, an extra pair of equally gigantic sneakers and even a Frisbee. We grab our bags and Tyson peels his sweaty shirt off, standing right there in front of me. I try not to look, but there he is in all his lean, muscular, shirtless glory. His body glistens in sweat and he looks like an Adonis. Suddenly, I have a swelling bulge in my shorts. He takes a towel and looks at me, frozen like a statue. "What's wrong?"

I explain to him that I usually don't sweat this much and I failed to bring a towel. He tosses me an extra one from his bag. He has come much more prepared than I have. He has washcloths, water, towels, wipes. He lets me use whatever I need. With my shirt off I angle my body away from him in shyness.

He hands me a bottle of cold water from a small cooler and takes one for himself, cracks it open and takes a long pull. I drink too and we lean against the car. I go to stuff the towel I used in my bag and tell him, "I'll wash this."

He grabs it from me and tosses it in the trunk with his. "It's just a little sweat."

"So where are we going now?"

He winks at me.

~~

He drives for just a couple short blocks and pulls into the parking lot of Dotty's Donuts. It's a new donut shop that opened this past year. Word is, they have the best donuts. Shockingly, I haven't tried them myself.

I regard Tyson. He says, "Life's too short to deny yourself every day. After that great run we earned a reward. Obviously, I'm not going to shove a donut down your throat, but as your boyfriend for the week, I'm hoping to get you to break your rules a few times. Just live and enjoy the moment. I know it's weird to say that in front of a donut shop, but if you've ever tried these donuts, you'd understand. They're that fucking good."

I laugh.

"Besides, seeing you enjoy a big sugary treat like a goofy kid would make my day."

I ask, "How's your dad doing? Any news from your mom?"

"Mom called this morning. There's no change. He's scheduled for surgery on Thursday." He breaks eye contact and adds, "Mom was worried about me, you know, having to be strong for Miranda but still being a scared kid myself. I was able to tell her that I have a new friend, someone who I can really talk to. Mom can always tell when I'm placating her, but today she heard the truth in my voice. It's hard on her; worried about Dad over there and her kids over here. Even with our aunt close by, it's tough. Thanks to you, I was able to ease that worry just a little bit today."

I unbuckle my seatbelt. "What the hell... Let's have a donut."

Tyson's smile comes back.

~~

We open the door to Dotty's and the scent of the sugary sweet creations hits me like a fist in the face. Tyson asks what I want. There is an enormous Boston Cream in the display case that's calling to me. I pick that one. Tyson orders two donuts for himself and asks what my second one will be.

I say, "There's no way. One is all I could handle. I'm not used to a high dose of sugar like this and I could go into sugar shock," I don't know if that's a real thing, but it makes Tyson laugh.

We take a seat at a table and contemplate the treats in front of us. I've had plenty of donuts in my life, before I turned weird. I pick this one up and it is the biggest, heaviest, fullest donut I've ever felt. I take my first bite and my eyes involuntarily close as I softly moan in ecstasy. It's so good I'm not even embarrassed. The thick layer of chocolate, the rich custardy cream filling... When I open my eyes, Tyson is staring at me with the biggest grin. "That's what I wanted to see."

I pace myself and take it very slowly.

Tyson, making his way through two donuts, says, "Tell me again about your diet? I mean come on; I just saw you with your shirt off. You're in great shape. You run. You're lean and healthy. What's this about?"

I had tried to hide my body from him while toweling off and changing my shirt. That's not so easy to do standing there in an open parking lot. I say, "Most 10-year-olds are lean and healthy."

Tyson grins, "It's your baby face that looks like a kid. Okay, obviously I was exaggerating. You said I was dressing like 10-year-old, so I said you looked like one. But with your shirt off... Let's just say you're back up to 18 again."

I blush, "My diet is not a body image thing. It's a long-term health thing. Heart health, blood health, brain health. 20 years from now, I don't want to regret the decisions I make today."

He says, "You're 18. You are not supposed to be thinking about 20 years from now. You're supposed to be living life and loving it." He takes another bite. "Brain health? Explain."

"Gluten attacks your brain. It affects sharpness, clarity and memory. In the long term, it can cause dementia and even Alzheimer's disease. You should watch the documentary I saw."

"No, I shouldn't. And, again, no one who's 18 should." We each take another bite. "All kidding aside, I respect what you're doing, but you can afford to allow yourself the occasional pleasure. If I can bring that to you once in a while, I will have succeeded in my mission."

I reply, "Fair enough, but I could have a slight influence on you too."

"You already have. I had salad for lunch yesterday! And water with dinner last night." He only has half of his second donut left. "I probably shouldn't tell you this but if you weren't here right now, I would totally have had at least 3 donuts."

I shake my head, but I'm laughing. I say, "I'm on a sugar high right now, but in an hour I'll probably crash hard." I take my last bite. "It's been a long time since my last cheat." I look into his lake-blue eyes and say, "This was absofuckinglutely worth it." Tyson busts a gut and I'm wishing this wasn't our only time together today.

"Let's bounce."

~~

After a shower, I pick up my music journal and flop on my bed. I open my journal and wait for inspiration to strike. I jot a few phrases down and find that I don't immediately hate them. I think about heading down to the music room, but my sugar high is fading and my eyes droop closed.

~~

I wake up from my nap with an idea. I ask Mom if I could borrow her car. I'm a good kid, a straight A student, rarely in trouble and my parents trust me so it's an easy yes. Despite the trust level, Mom is still Mom and she wants to know where I'm going, who I'll be with and what time I'll be home.

I answer all of her questions and assure her I'll definitely make my midnight weekend curfew.

"Okay. Be safe. Call if anything happens. Make sure your phone is fully charged."

~~

With Dad at work, Mom's car is my only option. It's an 8-year-old Honda Odyssey minivan. Not the coolest car in town, but it's what I've got.

I realize that I might not even get to see Tyson at all. Of course, I'll see him playing on the court, but up close and in person? I don't know. The cards will fall where they will. No matter what happens tonight, this is way better than sitting in my room feeling sorry for myself.

My seat is at center court about eight rows back on the home team's side. I have a good view across the floor of the Chandler bench. The five starters have removed their warmup layers and they're stretching in their uniforms. There's no way Tyson will notice me on his own. He's not expecting me and they are the visiting team.

That asshole, Kevin Johnson, is not on the floor. He's the team's starting center. The starting lineups are announced and Tyson, usually playing the 'four', is announced as the center. Connor, usually the 'three', is bumped up to power forward and Ricky, Hannah Vaugh's boyfriend who usually warms the bench all game, has moved into the starting line up as the small forward.

The game starts and Tyson wins the tip, but they don't have their usual spark of energy. Maybe it's because a few of the guys are playing out their normal positions. That can't be it for Tyson. He could play any of the five positions on the floor, including point-guard, and be the best player out there.

By the end of the first quarter, Chandler is down 22 to 8. In the second quarter, they tighten up a little and by halftime the deficit is trimmed to 10 with a score of 40 to 30. I take advantage of halftime to visit the men's room. On my way back to my seat, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I look and it's a text from Tyson. He writes: "This game sucks. I really need to talk. I wish I was with you now."

I type back: "Is your dad okay? Are you okay?"

He replies: "Nothing like that. It's team drama. We have to get back out there. I'll text you from the bus after the game."

I'm back in my seat now. I take a chance and send one more text: "Look behind the home team's bench, center court, about eight rows back." I don't see any dots and I'm not sure if he saw my message before putting his phone in his locker and heading back out to the floor.

Once again, the five starters rip off their warm-ups and stretch. Tyson twists his torso back and forth and I see him look across to the stands on my side. He scans, working his way up row by row and he spots me. Even from this distance, I can see the wide smile materialize on his face. I offer him a small wave and he nods in return. I can instantly see a change in his demeanor and energy. He holds his head and his shoulders higher. Suddenly the air in the building feels different. He gathers his teammates into a huddle and barks what I can only imagine are words of inspiration.

The third quarter starts and Tyson's energy is immediately contagious with the rest of his team. He demonstrates why he's the captain. Unlike the first half, Chandler is blocking shots, forcing turnovers, winning battles for rebounds and scoring on most of their possessions. Tyson is adept at bringing the best out in his teammates. He's unselfish with the ball, and as a result, racking up the assists. When Tyson takes the shot himself, he's much faster and more agile than his opposing center. The guy can't guard him. Tyson eludes him repeatedly, posts him up and sinks fade away after fade away. By the end of the third quarter, they're only down by two points.

Here I am, watching this game and my secret crush of four years, Connor Mills, is running back and forth and up and down the court right in front of me. Just a few short days ago I would have been blind to all of the other nine bodies on the floor, but tonight, I only see Tyson Courtland.

In the end it's not even close. Chandler wins 78 to 72. Tyson finished with a triple double, 30 points, 18 rebounds, 11 assists. He also had 5 steals and 6 blocks for good measure. The way they dominated the second half, it feels like a blowout. They're all high fiving and celebrating like they just won the championship. I can't stop smiling from the vantage point of my seat. The team eventually vacates the floor and I head out of the gym and into the hallway.

It doesn't take long before my phone buzzes: "Hey, can you wait for me?"

Me: "I'll hang outside the main entrance."

Tyson: "Gimme twenty minutes."

I use the time editing a few of the videos I took. I'm still looking down at my phone when a shadow envelops me. Tyson. His hair is still wet from the showers and he's grinning like a fool. He spreads his arms and wraps me in a hug. I wasn't expecting it and I don't quite get my arms around him as I try to not drop my phone.

Tyson releases me and says, "I can't believe you're here."

"Well, I was sitting at home, bored, and I realized, someone gave me some great advice this morning and I should take it. It was something about living in the moment or enjoying life as it comes. I can't remember exactly, but it was surprisingly good advice. So, I took a leap and here I am." I offer a grin of my own.

"Surprisingly good advice? Really? Sounds like you're talking about an incredibly wise person." He smiles back, "No one ever shows up at my away games. Not even my parents, you know, before... Anyway, Not Stacey, none of my friends... Even at my home games my friends don't actually pay attention to the game. It's just a social gathering to them."

"Well, I watched the game. You were amazing. My favorite players are the ones that play on both sides of the ball. Like Scottie Pippen did. You do that. It's easy to fall for the high scorers but it pisses me off when they don't play defense. It's just lazy. Your 30-point triple double was awesome, but your hustle stats: the rebounds, assists, blocks and steals were the best part. My favorite play of the game was the one when you held your ground in the post, poked the ball away and led a fast break that ended in a Tyson Courtland dunk. You know what, hold up a second." I tap at my phone and send him that very video.

"You really know the game. I didn't even realize I had a triple double." His phone dings, he takes it out and sees what I sent him. "What's this? You took a video?"

"Yeah, a few. I was lucky to get that play."

"You're why we won the game tonight. I wasn't feeling it and I played horribly. Until I saw you."

I wave it off dismissively and ask, "Let's bounce."

~~

I apologize for the mom-car, but Tyson doesn't mind. "Plenty of room to stretch out my long legs and it's not the fricking bus."

I get it. The bus sucks. We buckle our seatbelts and I turn to him. "So that video I sent you? I was thinking you could send it to your dad. He wants you to live your life in the moment, right? Send him that video. Show him you're doing what he asked. Tell him you scored a triple double in your first start as a center." I start the car. "If I were your dad, that video would raise my spirits. I would watch it over and over again. They say that a positive mindset can be almost as important as the medical treatment itself."

He just looks at me for a minute. "You..." he stops. "No one else hardly even cares, but here you are, showing up for me, thinking about my dad, being selfless and kind." He turns to hide his wet blue eyes.

I am not sure how to reply to that, so I don't. I start driving. Eventually we realize that neither of us has eaten since the donuts. We stop at a family restaurant that's attached to a bowling alley. Seated at our table, I notice for the first time the reddish mark that is beginning to bruise on his jaw. In the gym, I was too far away to see details. Outside the school entrance and in the car, it was too dark and shadowy. I'm now getting my first close look at him. Remembering the text he sent at halftime about team drama, I say, "Tell me what happened."

"It's nothing. I took an inadvertent elbow during the game."

I sigh, "No you didn't. I saw every play of the game."

"During warm-ups I mean." He opens his menu. "Let's order."

"Tyson, your text said something about 'team drama' and that you wanted to talk. Here I am."

He takes a deep breath, "Kevin didn't play tonight."

"I noticed."

Tyson continues, "Everything seemed fine at first. Kevin sat in the way back of the bus with Ricky, like always. When we got to the school, Kevin shouldered me hard and pretended it was an accident. Once we were in the locker room, the coaches weren't around. I was facing my locker, minding my own business and suddenly Kevin was there, right behind me. He says, 'Hey' and calls me a homophobic slur -- the homophobic slur." He sips his water. "So, I'm just trying to ignore him, you know, taking the high road. When I don't respond he gets angrier. I turn just in time to see his fist coming at me. Well, not in time to avoid it completely," he angles to give me a better look at the red streak, "but in enough time to turn with it. It was just a glancing blow. Connor and Greg stepped in between us and suddenly the coach is there. Once the coach heard what happened, he told Kevin he couldn't play. He called Kevin's parents to come pick him up."

I think of lunch yesterday when Kevin cornered me by the tray return. "Are you okay?"

"He hardly got me."

"No. I know you're okay. Are you okay?"

"It sucks. We've been a team for four seasons. We were never friends, but as teammates we shared a common goal, a loyalty and a trust... The team is kind of broken now. Mills and most of the guys say they're with me, but Ricky, of course, is on Team Kevin. A couple others might be too. At least Wednesday's home game is the last game of the year. No Kevin then either." He leans back in his chair, "On Monday, he might get officially expelled. Hopefully he'll be gone and not our problem anymore."

I say, "You know, Kevin Johnson isn't the only Kevin Johnson out there. A lot of people suck."

"Then I guess we'll deal with them one at a time." He looks at me seriously, "Mills told me on the bus about what happened at lunch yesterday. Why didn't you say anything?"