The Great Shelby Holmes (20 page)

Shelby didn't have friends. She didn't need friends.

But I did.

And there was only one way I was going to get them.

“Ready.”

CHAPTER

23

A
s
I
took
a
few
steps
out
from
the
L
acys
'
building
into
the
sunny
day
, I
realized
this
was
really
my first time out in the city alone.

I was free!

Yet there was something that kept pulling me back to the building.

Guilt flooded me for leaving Zareen with people who were convinced that she stole her own sister's dog.

I looked at the already-half-eaten snack Shelby had given me.

Maybe I also felt bad for leaving Shelby. Although how many ways could one person let you know you weren't wanted?

This was always my problem. Even back on the post, I always felt bad for the one kid sitting by himself at lunch. Mom used to praise me for looking out for others. “The little guardian,” she used to call me when I'd bring the latest stray home.

Sure, I had a bunch of friends and probably could've been considered popular or whatever. But I always had a soft spot when someone needed help. I could never turn my back on anybody.

I guess when you'd lived in so many places, you knew what it felt like to be the new kid. I was that kid practically every other year. So there's that army-post mentality that we're all in this together. Sometimes there was such a small community you pretty much didn't have much of a choice.

But this was New York City. I could do anything and be friends with anybody.

Maybe that was what was terrifying about it. Before, if I made a bad choice about who I sat with at lunch or got on the bad side of a teacher, it really didn't matter, as I wasn't going to be sticking around for that long. There weren't real consequences.

Now everything seemed like a big deal. Maybe because this city was huge. The fact was that in a few weeks I'd be at a school where the only people I knew were Shelby, a genius with questionable social skills, and Tamra, a girl who might possibly be setting her sister up for a crime she didn't commit.

As I crossed Central Park West, leaving the tall, brick residences that loomed over the park's outskirts, I could see the signs up for Daisy.

Trust your gut, John
.

That was what my dad used to tell me all the time.

That was why I'd always sit down with the person who was alone, knowing how it would feel if that were me. That might be me at the Academy.

My gut at that moment was screaming to me that Zareen was innocent. It told me that she was being set up.

But my gut had been wrong before.

It had told me that Shelby needed a friend, when it seemed like she couldn't get rid of me fast enough.

It had told me that moving to New York City would make everything easier, when, in fact, it made everything harder. While I was used to new places, this was a whole new life.

My gut had also told me that things were going to be okay. That Dad was going to stay. But it was wrong.

Maybe I shouldn't ever trust my gut after all.

I'd been so lost in my thoughts that I suddenly realized I had no idea where I was. I looked down at the map. Everywhere around me, there were trees and grass, people riding bikes and lying on blankets, soaking in the sun. I spun in a circle trying to see if I could spot the two towers of the Lacys' building to get my bearings. Even though I was in the middle of this huge city, it felt like a regular park. Well, a giant, huge park that was easy to get lost in. You'd think I'd be able to find something called the Great Lawn.

Yeah, you'd think.

You'd also think a kid could believe his own father.

I turned around, trying to get a sense of north and south. All I wanted to do was start my new life with some new friends, but instead I was turning around like a dog trying to catch its tail.

“Excuse me?” I asked a couple walking by. They replied in some foreign language. I tried to stop a few others, but if they didn't have their headphones on or were distracted by their phones, they assumed I was trying to sell them something. Up ahead, I saw some kids walking in a group, one of them was dribbling a ball.

I sped up to follow them. Maybe they were going to the same court. Or they'd at least be helpful.

I was eager to start playing some ball. Not only because it would be with some new people, but it also reminded me of my time with Dad. We'd usually shoot some hoops on the weekend or if he got home from work early. It was a pretty simple thing, but every time I held a ball in my hands, it would remind me of him. And since he was currently hundreds of miles away and not taking Mom's calls, memories were all I had.

Was that how things were going to be now? Whenever I left a post, I had all these friends and we always promised to stay in touch. Sure, there'd be a few messages in the first couple of months, but then they'd stop. I'd made new friends, and they'd moved on. It was like that saying: Out of sight, out of mind.

But he wasn't a friend; he was my dad.

I shook my head to get back to focusing on the game and making some friends. After a couple more minutes, I finally arrived at the basketball courts. I started scanning the different games. There were so many people it took me a second to find Zane, but relief overcame me as I spotted him and his friends in a corner court.

Maybe things weren't going to be bad here after all.

Sure, I didn't know what was going on with Dad. I also had no clue what Shelby's deal was: one minute she treated me like a friend, the other she was dismissive of me. But now I could forget all that and have an afternoon of playing ball with some guys.

I waved at Zane as I jogged toward him.

“There he is!” Zane called out to me as I tried to silence the butterflies in my stomach.

It's only a game
, I told myself.
It's only meeting the people who could become your close friends
.

Yeah, no pressure.

“Yo!” Zane called out to his friends, who paused their game. “You got to meet my new friend.”

My head swirled with pride at the word
friend
.

The group of eight guys gathered in the center of their court while I was introduced around. Luckily, when you make new friends every couple years, you become used to
memorizing names pretty quickly. I made sure to say each person's name to try to get it stuck in my head. I decided to start filling my brain attic with a whole container filled with “new friends.”

“What's up? I'm Corey.” A tall guy who seemed much older than the rest of the group held out his fist, and unlike Shelby, I knew to return the bump.

“Hey, Corey, I'm Watson,” I replied, surprised that Shelby's new nickname came out of my mouth. I had to admit, I was getting used to it. Plus, it was better than being just another John.

“Cool.” Corey nodded at me.

You know what? It
was
pretty cool.

Another with a huge Afro lifted his chin at me. “Hey, man, I'm Jake, this is Antonio,” he said as he threw the ball to a guy in a Brooklyn Nets jersey.

“Let's see what you can do,” Antonio said as he passed the ball to me.

I had to remind myself that it had only been a week since I last played with my buddies in Maryland. It had seemed so much longer than that.

I found my rhythm pretty quickly. Did a few dribbles, then faked Corey out by pretending to go to my left, but went to my right instead and sank the ball into the basket.

“Nice shot, John!” Zane called out as we went on defense.
I was able to steal the ball away and pass it to Zane, who went in for an easy layup, but missed, much to the delight of the opposing team.

“Dude!” Antonio called out with a laugh. “That's what you get for bailing on us. You get rusty!”

“Please,” Zane retorted. “I figure you guys need a break every once in a while so you get a chance to score.”

“Yeah.” Corey bumped into Antonio. “You're just jealous Zane bought me these sick kicks. The sweeter the shoes, the sweeter our victory.”

They all groaned before continuing to play.

Just like that, everything felt natural, easy. This was where I belonged. With people who didn't overanalyze me the second they met me. Who simply wanted to spend the afternoon playing ball and hanging. They didn't make me feel stupid or useless.

We were equals. We could be friends.

No accusations. No drama.

Shelby's voice from earlier today came into my head unexpectedly:
Observe. Remember everything
.

I did want to remember everything about this afternoon, not because I had to report back to Shelby on her assignment but because it was fun. The other morning, sitting on that stoop, I felt so lost and overwhelmed, wondering how I was going to be able to make friends in this insanely large and intimidating place.

Here I was, a little over forty-eight hours later, playing with a new group of potential friends.

See, I didn't need Shelby. I was doing fine on my own.

Despite almost getting lost, I made it here.

Corey blocked one of my shots, which knocked me down to the ground.

“Sorry, Watson.” He held out his hand to help me up.

“No problem.”

These guys weren't so different from my old friends.
There was the requisite teasing that took place during any games between friends. We took a few breaks to hydrate. They all had those expensive (and sugary) sports drinks that I'd always seen on
TV
, while I drank the water that Shelby had given me. I was even more grateful for it now. Back on the post, we'd just run home if we were thirsty or hungry since the court was usually only a couple blocks away from home. It hadn't even occurred to me to bring anything.

“So where you from?” Antonio asked.

“All over,” I began to explain. “I'm what you would call an army brat, most recently from Maryland, but before that, Kentucky, Georgia, and Texas.”

“Sweet!” Corey replied. “I've lived here my whole life, but I'm finally breaking free in a couple weeks to go to school at Rutgers. Even though it's only in New Jersey.”

I didn't realize we were playing with a college kid. I felt even better about my basketball skills since I was able to score a couple points on him.

Corey continued, “Must be cool to see so much of the country.”

The others nodded, like spending your entire life in New York City was boring.

I was sure you could become accustomed to wherever you live, but I couldn't ever imagine having a dismissive attitude to living here.

“What's it like living on a military base?” Jake asked.

“It's called a post,” I corrected him, but then I felt like Shelby for doing it. So what if he wanted to call it a base? “It's pretty awesome.” I might have slightly exaggerated. I mean, I liked having a little community of friends who knew what it was like to move all over the place. Or to have a family member serving overseas. But this was New York City, and it was awesome from whatever angle you looked at it.