Hurricane Wills Page 11

  During the night before the tournament, Wills came into my room and woke me up.

  “You don’t like me, do you?” he said.

  “Not when you wake me up in the middle of the night, I don’t,” I muttered.

  “No, but you don’t anyway, do you?”

  “Why do you expect me to like you when you’re horrible to me,” I said.

  “What if I was nice to you, then?”

  “Try it,” I sighed. “What’s this all about, Wills?”

  “I don’t mean all the things I do.” He sounded sort of defeated.

  “What, like you didn’t mean to send me all those nasty text messages?”

  “It was just a bit of fun.”

  Surely even Wills couldn’t believe that!

  “Only for you and your stupid friends,” I said.

  “They’re not stupid,” Wills mumbled.

  “They’re stupid and ugly and horrible and you know it,” I growled.

  “Just cuz they caught you being a dork in the library,” Wills said.

  “I knew you’d say that. Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

  “I really need you to be there for me tomorrow,” Wills said quietly. “I mean, will you shout at me if I start to mess up? I need you to be on my side, Chris, because some of them other kids are waiting for me to mess up big time, I know it. They’re gonna try and make me mess up so that I get kicked out of the team, like last time. I promise I’ll listen to you.”

  I couldn’t understand why Wills was so sure that the other kids were out to get him, and why he didn’t think that Clingon would deal with it. But then I didn’t understand half of what went on in Wills’s head.

  “I need you to be on my side too,” I said. “It’s your fault your friends won’t leave me alone.”

  “I didn’t know you went to the library. That wasn’t my fault,” protested Wills.

  “I won’t go there anymore,” I said.

  “I’ll tell them to leave you alone, then,” said Wills. “I’ll tell them to leave you alone or, they’ll have me to answer to.”

  “Scary,” I scoffed.

  “You can laugh,” said Wills huffily, “but what I say goes with them. They respect me, and they’ll do whatever I tell them.”

  I stared at Wills and could see that he really believed what he was saying. I didn’t believe it for a minute, not even for a second.

  “You never ever pass to me when I’m playing at the same time as you,” I said accusingly.

  “I promise I’ll pass to you, all the time,” Wills said.

  “Even when I’m on the bench?” I grinned. I wanted to lighten the mood now.

  “On the bench?” bellowed Wills. “I won’t let them leave you on the bench! You’re my brother. Where I go, you go!”

  “Together we stand!” I shouted.

  “Divided—we fall!” shouted Wills, and he dropped like a pillar of stone onto my bed.

  “Ow, you fool, that hurt,” I yelled, “and you’ve woken Muffin up.”

  “Sorry, Muffin,” chuckled Wills. “Sorry, bro.”

  He giddy-upped back to his bedroom, leaving me to rub my elbowed chest to the rattle of Muffin on his wheel.

  I felt lousy the next morning, tired and knotted up with nerves. It had taken me ages to get to sleep after Wills’s nighttime visit, and I sat at the breakfast table, yawning my head off. Wills was subdued too. I wondered if it was because he was tired, or because he was nervous, or both. Mom was excited. She chatted away about how much she was looking forward to watching us. She wanted us to teach her the rules of basketball, because she had never even seen a game before. I tried to explain, with Wills interrupting me to tell me when I’d got it wrong, and I think we left her totally confused.

  “I expect I will pick it up,” she said.

  Wills snorted. “It’s a well-known fact that women are bad at anything to do with sports,” he said.

  “It’s a well-known fact that teenagers are incredibly patronizing and think they know everything,” retorted Mom. “You keep your generalizations to yourself, young man.”

  “Keep your hair on, Momsy-womsy, I was only joking,” Wills grinned. “But you are the weaker sex, aren’t you?”

  Mom tried to swat him across the kitchen table and knocked over her cup of coffee.

  “Now look what you’ve made me do,” she groaned.

  “Clumsy-Mumsy,” Wills scolded. Then, for the hundredth time he asked, “How long is it till we go?”

  The tournament was being held in the local community center. Dad was coming to collect us all at half past twelve and we were due to have practice at the center before the tournament started at half past one. It was a relief when at last he arrived. “How’s the dream team, then?” he asked, standing on the doorstep, freshly shaved, bowling pin body crammed into a tracksuit and sneakers. “All fit and raring to go?”

  “Jeez, Dad,” said Wills. “Anyone would think you were our coach.”

  “Just like to get into the mood,” said Dad.

  “Well, you only just got into those trousers,” guffawed Wills.

  Dad took a playful swipe at him, then took Mom by the elbow and steered her out of the house.

  “Come on, you two, let’s show them how it’s really done.”

  Anyone would think he was playing as well, I thought.

  It felt peculiar to be in the back seat of the car next to Wills, with Mom and Dad in the front just like old times, except that Wills didn’t bash me, or lie on me, and Mom and Dad talked to each other like they didn’t know each other very well, which I suppose they didn’t anymore. Wills got a text on his cell phone. He looked at me to see if I was trying to read it. I wasn’t and I turned away, but out of the corner of my eye I could see him texting back with urgent thumbs. Another text came right back and after he had answered it again he snapped the phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. He left it to vibrate there and I wondered why he didn’t want to see what the messages were.

  When we arrived at the community center, it was packed with boys from other teams, all wearing different colors and slamming and dunking wherever they could find a bit of space. The noise was ear-splitting, but the excitement was catching and the butterflies in my stomach became more like enthusiastic bees. Wills looked startled at first and stood behind me, but then he spotted Clingon and pushed past me to announce himself. Mom and Dad patted me on the back and wished me good luck, before going off for coffee and to find seats in the bleachers.

  It was good to have a warm-up before the tournament started. Clingon found a corner of the hall and made us do some drills, then he made us huddle together for a team talk, which ended with us all yelling JUST WATCH US FLY! at the tops of our voices.

  We weren’t playing in the first game, so we sat on benches at the side to watch and “scope out the opposition” as Clingon put it. Wills couldn’t stop fidgeting. I didn’t blame him, because all the waiting was turning the bees back into butterflies again. Both the teams in the first game seemed to be too good for us, and I was sure we would be squashed. But Wills turned to me and said loudly that they were a load of donkeys and we could beat them with our boxers around our ankles. Then his cell phone went off. He pulled it out of his sweat pants and read the message. His face went white and he slammed it shut. Then he opened it again and sent a text. When the reply came, Clingon glared at him and told him to turn it off or else. Wills read the message, slammed the phone shut again, and threw it into his bag. He saw me looking at him and stuck his tongue out, but he didn’t go back to watching the game. He was biting his fingernails and his leg was twitching up and down while he stared around the hall.

  Suddenly he jumped to his feet, yelling, “I need the bathroom!” and rushed off in the direction of the toilets.

  “Don’t be long,” Clingon shouted after him. “We’re on in a minute.”

  Wills didn’t reply. He disappeared through a door and a few seconds later the whistle blew for the end of the first game. Clingon
told us to jog up and down the court while the other teams drifted off, then called us together for a final team talk.

  “Where’d that brother of yours go?” he asked irritably.

  “Should I go and see if he’s all right?” I replied.

  “Be quick about it.”

  I ran across the hall, glancing up to see if Mom and Dad were watching. They waved, not realizing that anything was the matter. I raised my hand, but kept on running through the door Wills had taken, past some stairs and into the gents toilets.

  “Wills,” I called, “hurry up, we’re on!”

  There was no reply. The doors to two of the stalls were shut. I called again, but there was still no reply. One of the doors opened but the boy who came out wasn’t Wills. I stood impatiently by the other door and hissed, “Wills, stop messing around and come out. You’ve been in there ages.”

  There was a loud fart, which convinced me that it was Wills, but when the door eventually opened another boy came out, grinned at me, and said, “Wrong person, buddy,” before loping off back to the gym.

  Wills was nowhere to be seen. I checked the disabled toilet next door, because it would have been just like Wills to go in there and pull the handle, and I ran up the stairs, which led to another part of the building that was obviously out of bounds. There was no sign of him. On the way back down the stairs I met T.J., who was one of the other reserves.

  “What in the world are you doing, Chris, and where’s Wills?” he shouted. “Clingon’s going nuts out there.”

  “I can’t find him!” I cried.

  “Typical,” groaned T.J. “Trust your brother to let us down.”

  “He was worried about playing,” I said rather lamely.

  “We were all worried about him playing,” T.J. snapped. “You’d better get back in there quick, and tell Clingon what’s happened.”

  As I went back through the doors, the whistle blew for the start of our game. I made my way around the side of the court and glanced up again at Mom and Dad. They knew something was wrong this time. Dad mouthed, “Where’s Wills?” and I shrugged my shoulders. He spoke to Mom and they both began to scour the gym. As I reached Clingon, who was shouting instructions across the court, I saw Dad get up and make for the doors to the toilets.

  “I can’t find him, Mr. Columbine,” I said nervously. “I think he might have been too scared to play.”

  “Well, he’d better be too scared to come back into this gym,” Clingon growled, “because if I get my hands on him he’ll learn a new meaning for slam dunk.”

  I sat down on the bench and saw Dad come back shaking his head. After a quick word with Mom, he strode off in the direction of the entrance to the community center. We were already ten points down by then. Clingon told me he was putting me in. I didn’t want to go in. Not without Wills there. This was his big day, and he’d blown it, and I felt sorry for him. And then I felt angry. So angry. This was my day as well and Wills was wrecking it. Dad wasn’t there to watch me because of Wills, because of Wills and his stupid Acts Dumb and Dumber. I wanted so badly for Dad to be there with Mom, but instead he was rushing around trying to find Wills.

  “Will you get in there now!” Clingon shouted at me. “It’s enough that one of you can’t do as you’re told.”

  In my dreams, I would have been the hero of the hour. We would have been losing and I would have taken the game by the scruff of its neck and turned it around. I would have been lifted high in the air, and everyone would have cheered until they were hoarse. But this was no dream. This was a nightmare. I went on the court and was useless. An embarrassment. I could see Mom trying to be all proud and cheering when I managed to make my first interception, but she kept looking around to see if she could see Dad and Wills. Gradually she slumped back in her seat, as my fingers turned to butter and my feet fought each other to play on the left. Then Dad reappeared, on his own. Clingon was patient and encouraging to begin with, but it was a relief for everyone when at last he sent me back to the bench, with the game already dead and buried, and me as well.

  There was a break before our next game. Clingon let me go and talk to Mom and Dad. I couldn’t help it, but I started crying when I sat with them. I felt like I’d let everyone down. Mom said she was proud of me and that she’d seen me do lots of good things. I said I was upset about Wills, not just because I’d played like a fairy. Dad said that I was to stop worrying about Wills and that it was Wills’s choice to run away. He should have stayed and faced his fears like everyone else, because everyone else would have been nervous too. Mom said Dad was being unfair. Wills had a lot to deal with, what with his Acts Dumb and Dumber and everyone expecting more of him because he was big for his age. Dad said she shouldn’t always make excuses for him. Mom began to get upset because she said that he had a good heart but his head sometimes told him to do the wrong thing. Some people behind us told us to shush because they were trying to watch the game, and I thought Dad was going to say something rude to them. Instead he said I should go back and get ready for our next game, and that they would worry about Wills later.

  “Go on, Chris, get out there and show them who’s who,” Dad urged.

  I said I’d try, but I didn’t really feel like it and I didn’t think Clingon would let me near the court again. Clingon took me aside for a talk and told me to forget about Wills and concentrate on my own game, otherwise I would be sitting on the bench for the rest of the afternoon.

  I did play better in our next game, when Clingon eventually put me in, but I wasn’t great and the team missed Wills’s strength. We lost again, and only managed to scrape a narrow win in our final game. That meant that we didn’t go through to the semi-finals, and I had to sit there and listen while the other boys bad-mouthed Wills for letting them down. Clingon didn’t say much, but I could tell he was annoyed and I guessed that he wouldn’t exactly welcome Wills or me to his next Sunday session.

  Mom and Dad came over to console me and to apologize to Clingon for Wills’s vanishing act. We headed off home then, me on my own in the back seat, Mom and Dad in front, just like old times except that we didn’t know where Wills was, and Mom and Dad weren’t really talking to each other because Mom thought Dad was too hard on Wills and Dad thought Mom was too soft. We were all sure that Wills would be at home sulking when we got there. He wasn’t though. The house was empty and there was no sign that Wills had been back and gone out again. Dad hovered on the doorstep, looking uncomfortable. Mom told him to come in, and she would put the kettle on.

  “He’s always going off for hours on end,” she said, but I could tell she was anxious.

  “Do you want me to wait with you until he comes back?” Dad asked, as we sat at the kitchen table.

  Mom nodded, but after he had finished his cup of tea he stood up and said he was going to have a look around. Mom began to busy herself with preparing food, and I went to see the soccer results on the television. I was tired and fed up. Our big day had been a big disaster. Not just on the basketball court. I realized that, like Wills, I had been harboring a tiny hope that Mom and Dad might just get together again as they shared the glory of our basketball triumph, however silly that might sound. Now I understood that they were further apart than ever, but it had nothing to do with what had happened.

  Dad came back and said that Wills was nowhere to be seen. I could feel the anxiety mounting, even though it still wasn’t very late.

  “That boy will be the death of me,” Dad said.

  Mom burst into tears and then got angry with herself for being silly. I couldn’t stand just sitting there any longer, even though there was a big game starting soon on the television. I jumped up and said that I was going out on my bike to have a look for him. I left Dad trying to comfort Mom, but he wasn’t very good at it any more.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It felt good to be out on my bike, whistling along the road down to the canal, away from the tension at home, away from the tension of the day. I wanted the wind to sweep up all th
e bad things into an enormous gigantic sack, and hurl it into space. In it would be me being bad at basketball, the tournament, Mom being angry with Dad, Dad being angry with Mom, Mom and Dad not being together, Wills’s horrible friends, the money under Wills’s mattress, the knife wherever it was, Wills finding my story, and Will’s Acts Dumb and Dumber.

  I was sure I would find Wills with his friends. If I found him, I was going to bicycle up to him, tell him Mom and Dad were worried about him, then cycle away again as quickly as possible before his friends could say or do anything horrible. If I found him, at least I would be able to go home and tell Mom and Dad that he was all right. Then they could stop worrying, Dad would be able to go back to his own home, and Mom and I could sit down and watch the television together like we normally did when Wills was out.

  I couldn’t find Wills though. I searched all of his usual haunts twice over, in case he was on the move from one to the other. I was about to give up and go home, when I remembered the scrap yard, and the time when I thought I had seen him coming out of the scrap merchant’s building. It was worth a try.

  I bicycled there as fast as I could, because it was beginning to get dark. The scrap yard was empty, probably because of the game on the television and because it was nearly dinnertime for most people. It wasn’t the sort of place I wanted to be on my own. In the gloom, the scrap merchant’s building looked spooky and unwelcoming. The danger signs with their white backgrounds shouted their message out louder than ever. I couldn’t believe anyone would want to go inside, even on the brightest, sunniest day. I laid my bike down on the ground and walked slowly over, ready to turn around and run if Wills’s friends suddenly appeared. I stood outside the building and listened. I couldn’t hear anything, and it didn’t look possible to get in through the heavily barricaded doors. Perhaps I had been wrong about Wills and his friends coming from inside the building. Perhaps they had just been walking by.

  I went around to the back. There was another set of doors, padlocked and with large planks of wood across them. I reached through the planks and rattled the doors halfheartedly, knowing already that they would not give way. I felt defeated and relieved at the same time.