one ever called her on her dad’s cell.
Her dad raised his eyebrows in that all-knowing fatherlyway of his that Francine found so annoying. “It’s Kansas,” he told her.
Kansas?
Maybe her dad was right, Francine thought, looking at the phone in his hand. Maybe Kansas did just want to be friends. Maybe he wasn’t so terrible after all.
She took the phone.
“Hello?”
10.
A BASKETBALL
Kansas typed his message, stared at it for a moment, and then pushed Enter.
kansas_the_champ: Hey francine. yeah this is me.
In the kitchen Kansas could hear his mother putting away the Post-its in the drawer and sitting back down at the table. Probably back to studying, without even noticing he was gone. Kansas gazed at the computer screen. Twenty seconds passed. Then thirty. Still no reply from Francine.
Kansas took a deep breath. He had to type it, he decided. It was now or never. Before he chickened out. Heneeded to tell Francine that he’d read her note from the office and that his parents were getting divorced too. It would be nice to finally be able to talk to someone about his parents, someone who would understand. He just hoped she wouldn’t be too mad about the note.
But Kansas didn’t get a chance to type a single word, because suddenly there was another loud
bloop!
and a second message popped up from Francine.
FRANCINEHALLATA: we all took a vote on ur next dare
Kansas squinted as he read the words. Another message popped up. Then another.
FRANCINEHALLATA: i 2x dog dare u to wear ur sisters tutu to school tmrw
FRANCINEHALLATA: all day
What Kansas needed was to cool off. He couldn’t believe there had been a second in the day when he thought hemight actually tell Francine about his parents. All she cared about was the stupid Media Club and being the stupid news anchor. He’d wanted to make up a super-mean dare for her too, but he hadn’t gotten a chance, because she’d logged out of her IM right away.
He was planning on riding his bike, but the first thing he saw when he got outside was his basketball, sitting cold and lonely by the corner of the house. Ginny must’ve been playing with it. Which was stupid, really, because there was no basketball hoop. They’d had a hoop at their old house, and their mom had insisted they take it with them, but their new house didn’t have a driveway, so there was nowhere to put it up. Now the hoop remained stuffed inside one of the unpacked boxes. Which, as far as Kansas was concerned, was where it could stay forever.
Kansas stood in front of the screen door for a long while, just staring at the basketball. Then, almost reluctantly, he picked it up. It did feel pretty good. He tossed it up in the air and caught it, one-handed. Then he tossed it against the side of the house, at a spot just above his and Ginny’s window, and grabbed it as it bounced back his way.
As Kansas threw the ball—bounce and catch, bounceand catch—his thoughts began to focus on the dare war. Kansas needed to think of something truly awful for Francine to do, something even worse than wearing your little sister’s tutu.
But what?
Kansas aimed at the spot on the wall again—there was a scuff mark there now, exactly basketball-sized, and the dirt underneath his bedroom window was packed enough that he could almost pretend like he was dribbling. Kansas used to love playing basketball. Back in Oregon, he had even been on his school’s basketball team. He’d been good too. Really good. But that was when his dad had been around to help him practice, to show up at games, to cheer for him. Kansas didn’t really feel like playing much anymore.
He bent down low and dribbled five times. Then he grabbed the ball in both hands, straightened up, and shot.
The basketball hit the siding at a bad angle and flew across the yard, thumping into the Muñozes’ fence next door. Kansas crossed the brown patches of grass to retrieve it.
“Hello, young man!”
Poking over the top of the fence was the
Her dad raised his eyebrows in that all-knowing fatherlyway of his that Francine found so annoying. “It’s Kansas,” he told her.
Kansas?
Maybe her dad was right, Francine thought, looking at the phone in his hand. Maybe Kansas did just want to be friends. Maybe he wasn’t so terrible after all.
She took the phone.
“Hello?”
10.
A BASKETBALL
Kansas typed his message, stared at it for a moment, and then pushed Enter.
kansas_the_champ: Hey francine. yeah this is me.
In the kitchen Kansas could hear his mother putting away the Post-its in the drawer and sitting back down at the table. Probably back to studying, without even noticing he was gone. Kansas gazed at the computer screen. Twenty seconds passed. Then thirty. Still no reply from Francine.
Kansas took a deep breath. He had to type it, he decided. It was now or never. Before he chickened out. Heneeded to tell Francine that he’d read her note from the office and that his parents were getting divorced too. It would be nice to finally be able to talk to someone about his parents, someone who would understand. He just hoped she wouldn’t be too mad about the note.
But Kansas didn’t get a chance to type a single word, because suddenly there was another loud
bloop!
and a second message popped up from Francine.
FRANCINEHALLATA: we all took a vote on ur next dare
Kansas squinted as he read the words. Another message popped up. Then another.
FRANCINEHALLATA: i 2x dog dare u to wear ur sisters tutu to school tmrw
FRANCINEHALLATA: all day
What Kansas needed was to cool off. He couldn’t believe there had been a second in the day when he thought hemight actually tell Francine about his parents. All she cared about was the stupid Media Club and being the stupid news anchor. He’d wanted to make up a super-mean dare for her too, but he hadn’t gotten a chance, because she’d logged out of her IM right away.
He was planning on riding his bike, but the first thing he saw when he got outside was his basketball, sitting cold and lonely by the corner of the house. Ginny must’ve been playing with it. Which was stupid, really, because there was no basketball hoop. They’d had a hoop at their old house, and their mom had insisted they take it with them, but their new house didn’t have a driveway, so there was nowhere to put it up. Now the hoop remained stuffed inside one of the unpacked boxes. Which, as far as Kansas was concerned, was where it could stay forever.
Kansas stood in front of the screen door for a long while, just staring at the basketball. Then, almost reluctantly, he picked it up. It did feel pretty good. He tossed it up in the air and caught it, one-handed. Then he tossed it against the side of the house, at a spot just above his and Ginny’s window, and grabbed it as it bounced back his way.
As Kansas threw the ball—bounce and catch, bounceand catch—his thoughts began to focus on the dare war. Kansas needed to think of something truly awful for Francine to do, something even worse than wearing your little sister’s tutu.
But what?
Kansas aimed at the spot on the wall again—there was a scuff mark there now, exactly basketball-sized, and the dirt underneath his bedroom window was packed enough that he could almost pretend like he was dribbling. Kansas used to love playing basketball. Back in Oregon, he had even been on his school’s basketball team. He’d been good too. Really good. But that was when his dad had been around to help him practice, to show up at games, to cheer for him. Kansas didn’t really feel like playing much anymore.
He bent down low and dribbled five times. Then he grabbed the ball in both hands, straightened up, and shot.
The basketball hit the siding at a bad angle and flew across the yard, thumping into the Muñozes’ fence next door. Kansas crossed the brown patches of grass to retrieve it.
“Hello, young man!”
Poking over the top of the fence was the
Similar Books
