Boy21 (22 page)
Authors: Matthew Quick
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Boys & Men, #Social Themes, #Adolescence, #Depression & Mental Illness, #Social Issues, #Prejudice & Racism, #Sports & Recreation, #Basketball, #JUV005000
Dad carries my bag and basketball. I follow him into the building, through what seems to be a food court, and into a beautiful room with a high ceiling and great columns. It reminds me a little of the Franklin Institute, where I saw that IMAX movie about stars and repairing the Hubble Space Telescope. I remember how Boy21 freaked out and left when he saw the space shuttle. How I wanted to follow him but wasn’t allowed.
Dad and I check the departure times on a board that changes by flipping numbers and making this ticking noise.
“That’s your train,” Dad says, pointing.
We walk to the right staircase and I get in line with my ticket and Erin’s letter in my hand.
“I really feel like I’m going to Hogwarts,” I say.
“What’s Hogwarts?”
“Never mind.” I suddenly wish I’d told Dad about Harry Potter, but this isn’t the time. Maybe I’ll send him a copy in the mail.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you a better childhood, Finley.”
Dad’s eyelids are trembling now too, and in front of all these strangers. I really hope he doesn’t cry. I won’t be able to get on the train if he cries.
“Dad,” I say, but nothing else comes.
“Whenever you get to missing us—if you do—”
“I will definitely—”
“Think about your old man collecting tolls at three in the morning and your legless pop drinking beer all day, wearing a diaper. Go get yourself a better life. Do whatever it takes to make a good life for you and Erin. Irish people have been leaving their homes in search of better lives for many, many years. We’re very good at it. So go make the Irish proud.”
I hug Dad and start to feel the finality of what’s happening. I start to feel the tears coming.
But then the line starts moving and it’s time to board.
“Erin will let you know the best way to contact us, but don’t
worry
about us, okay?” Dad says. “Be a good man.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“We love you too.” Dad sticks his hand in my pocket, but before I can check to see what he put in there he’s handing me my bag and basketball, the ticket man is asking to see my ticket, and
then I’m halfway down the stairs, looking over my shoulder at Dad, who is crying now and waving good-bye from above.
The platform is full of hot sticky air, and I’m surprised that my train is air-conditioned.
After seeing other people do it, I shove my bag into the space above my seat, and then sit down.
My heart’s pounding.
I’ve never been on a train before.
I wonder if I’ll meet friends during the ride, like Harry Potter did. I start to look around, but all I see are tired and grumpy-looking adults.
I settle into the seat, reread Erin’s letter, and try to feel hopeful for the future. I wonder if New Hampshire is as beautiful as the Star Watcher’s Paradise. Erin was and is beautiful enough to make even Bellmont tolerable, so I close my eyes and imagine her face.
The train lurches forward and we pull out of Thirtieth Street Station.
A woman wearing a special train hat comes and inspects my ticket, which is sort of fun.
I watch Philadelphia and then so many towns I can’t name pass by my reflection in the window.
So much had to happen to land me on this train—thinking about that makes it feel like someone’s kicking in my skull, and then, suddenly, I’m thinking about the unfathomable stars Russ and I saw from the viewing station in the woods. We really don’t get to understand
why
most of the time. It’s true.
I reach into my pocket and pull out five one-hundred-dollar
bills, which is more money than I have ever held in my hand, and may very well be Dad’s life savings. I think about Dad and Pop living alone without me. Who will help Pop in the bathroom and put him to bed?
Why didn’t I think about that before?
They loved having Erin and me around. The house will be so quiet now. Pop will probably drink even more. I start to feel guilty about leaving, like I might even cry. I grasp a handful of shirt and the four points of my grandmother’s crucifix dig into my palm.
“Where you going?” the woman across the aisle says. She’s a big lady wearing a purple dress and a little hat that matches.
“New Hampshire,” I say, before I remember that I’m not supposed to tell anyone my destination.
“Pretty country up there.”
“Hope so.”
“First time?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You going to play basketball?” she says, eyeing my ball on the seat next to me.
“I hope so—with my girlfriend.”
“You sure do hope a lot.”
I smile at her.
“Nothing wrong with hoping,” she says, and then looks out her window.
Suddenly, the reality of what’s happened hits me. Everything’s swirling in my chest. I’m so nervous. I already miss Pop and Dad. It’s hard to wrap my mind around this moment. Life can change so quickly. Maybe this is how Russ felt when he first came to Bellmont? No wonder he invented Boy21.
I don’t want to cry on the train, so I close my eyes and visualize playing basketball against Erin, and we’re little kids again in my backyard, silently shooting on the old adjustable rim.
It’s a good image, but I force my mind to see the future, what will happen when I arrive in New Hampshire.
It takes some imagining, but finally I see myself playing H.O.R.S.E. with Erin as the sun sets through the trees and the stars poke through the endless sky above. I see us holding hands, getting older through the years, even raising kids in a nice neighborhood where they won’t have to worry about the things we had to worry about. And then Erin and I are kissing on a new roof, under the same endless unknowable space above, and somehow we’re okay.
Many, many people have helped and inspired me along the way, and I thank all of them. The following—in one way or another—are responsible for
Boy21
ending up in your hands: Doug Stewart and everyone at Sterling Lord Literistic; Alvina Ling, Connie Hsu, Bethany Strout, Emma Ledbetter, Ames O’Neill, and everyone at Little, Brown; Megan, Micah and Kelly, Mom and Dad, Barb and Peague, Uncle Pete, Big H and Dink; Roland Merullo; Evan James Roskos; Mark Wiltsey; Dr. Len Altamura and Kate Cranston; Bill and Mo Rhoda; Tim and Beth Rayworth; Jean Wertz; Wally Wilhoit; Canadian Scott Caldwell; Peruvian Scott Humfeld; Heather Leah; Liz Jensen; Sara Zarr; Dave Tavani; Kent Green and Ernie Rockelman (aka Emerald Productions); Lars and Drea (L.A. Auto!); Scott Warnock; Drew Giorgi; and, most of all, my wife / therapist / first reader / editor / cheerleader / love of my life / muse / best friend, Alicia Bessette (aka Al).
Copyright
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2012 by Matthew Quick
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
First e-book edition: March 2012
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ISBN 978-0-316-19314-6
