on the screen. âWatch this. Wait, waitâ¦now! Ooooh! I smoked that guy!â
âYou were, like, a star!â Mike cheered.
âHardly,â Dad told him. âMostly I warmed the bench.â
It surprised me to hear him admit that. I had always assumed he had been a big-shot soccer player in college. We all had.
âI had no one watching out for me,â Dad said as an explanation.
âWhat about Granddad?â I asked.
Dad turned away sadly. âWhat about him?â he asked. I suddenly realized that I wasnât the only one who had ever felt all alone. Dad had done it on his own, and it hadnât turned out as heâd hoped.
I recalled him saying that nobody got there on their own. He must have been thinking about his own life. Was that why he coached Johnny so hard? Was he trying to give him something heâd never had? Had he only lately realized that a daughter might need his help as much as a son?
Even if it was a little late, heâd realized it in time. I wasnât going it alone anymore. I had to admit it felt good.
My training put a strain on my friendship with Jena. Sheâd been grounded because of the Jersey Shore escapade, but when she was free again, she wanted to hang out like we used to. I no longer had the time, though.
âPeople are talking,â she said to me one day while I was training in the garage weight room. âYouâre committing social suicide.â
âLike I care,â I said, still lifting.
Dad came in with two cartons of eggs. Jena rolled her eyes at him as she walked out in a huff. I didnât blame her for being angry. She felt like Iâd abandoned her. If she was really my friend, though, she had to understand how much this meant to me.
Dad stood before me and I saw that he had no shoes on. He tossed an egg lightly into the air and, when it came down, he caught it on the toes of his right foot. âSoft as a pillow,â he remarked before tossing it up again with his right foot and catching it with his left.
I was impressed.
He gestured for me to stand and take off my shoes. âIâm going to toss you this little guy. Catch him on your foot and cradle him. Donât break him.â
There was no way I could do that! I tried anyway, but as Iâd expected, it broke, making a gooey mess all over my
bare foot. âIt didnât work,â I said, pointing out the obvious.
âYou didnât do it rightâ was all he said. He tossed another into the air for me to catch. It made another yellow, yolky mess at my feet.
âItâs impossible,â I wailed.
âI know,â he agreed, tossing a third egg into the air. âAgain.â
The egg tossing went on for the rest of the afternoon. I didnât catch one of them.
Catching the egg became an obsession with me. I knew it killed Mom to see all those eggs going to waste, and I appreciated that she didnât complain. One Saturday afternoon we were out on the front porch together. I was trying to catch an egg while she folded laundry. âI havenât seen Jena in a while,â she commented.
âMe, neither,â I said, sadly. Splat! The broken egg slid down the porch steps. Mom gave a look and sighed, but she didnât say a word.
As she walked away with the basket of laundry, I tried one more egg.
Got it!
Yes!
Twelve
Now the trick was to get it every time. That would take practice.
It wasnât easy throwing and catching on my own. I needed someone to throw for me. I couldnât ask Mom, and Dad had taken Mike and Daniel to another dentist appointment. It wasnât something I could ask Jena to do, either. There was only one person who might be home and might be willing: Peter.
I walked to his house, which was only around the corner. I knew where he lived, but I hadnât been there in years. When I got there, he was in his garage, which was set up for a garage band. I didnât even know he played.
âYou were, like, a star!â Mike cheered.
âHardly,â Dad told him. âMostly I warmed the bench.â
It surprised me to hear him admit that. I had always assumed he had been a big-shot soccer player in college. We all had.
âI had no one watching out for me,â Dad said as an explanation.
âWhat about Granddad?â I asked.
Dad turned away sadly. âWhat about him?â he asked. I suddenly realized that I wasnât the only one who had ever felt all alone. Dad had done it on his own, and it hadnât turned out as heâd hoped.
I recalled him saying that nobody got there on their own. He must have been thinking about his own life. Was that why he coached Johnny so hard? Was he trying to give him something heâd never had? Had he only lately realized that a daughter might need his help as much as a son?
Even if it was a little late, heâd realized it in time. I wasnât going it alone anymore. I had to admit it felt good.
My training put a strain on my friendship with Jena. Sheâd been grounded because of the Jersey Shore escapade, but when she was free again, she wanted to hang out like we used to. I no longer had the time, though.
âPeople are talking,â she said to me one day while I was training in the garage weight room. âYouâre committing social suicide.â
âLike I care,â I said, still lifting.
Dad came in with two cartons of eggs. Jena rolled her eyes at him as she walked out in a huff. I didnât blame her for being angry. She felt like Iâd abandoned her. If she was really my friend, though, she had to understand how much this meant to me.
Dad stood before me and I saw that he had no shoes on. He tossed an egg lightly into the air and, when it came down, he caught it on the toes of his right foot. âSoft as a pillow,â he remarked before tossing it up again with his right foot and catching it with his left.
I was impressed.
He gestured for me to stand and take off my shoes. âIâm going to toss you this little guy. Catch him on your foot and cradle him. Donât break him.â
There was no way I could do that! I tried anyway, but as Iâd expected, it broke, making a gooey mess all over my
bare foot. âIt didnât work,â I said, pointing out the obvious.
âYou didnât do it rightâ was all he said. He tossed another into the air for me to catch. It made another yellow, yolky mess at my feet.
âItâs impossible,â I wailed.
âI know,â he agreed, tossing a third egg into the air. âAgain.â
The egg tossing went on for the rest of the afternoon. I didnât catch one of them.
Catching the egg became an obsession with me. I knew it killed Mom to see all those eggs going to waste, and I appreciated that she didnât complain. One Saturday afternoon we were out on the front porch together. I was trying to catch an egg while she folded laundry. âI havenât seen Jena in a while,â she commented.
âMe, neither,â I said, sadly. Splat! The broken egg slid down the porch steps. Mom gave a look and sighed, but she didnât say a word.
As she walked away with the basket of laundry, I tried one more egg.
Got it!
Yes!
Twelve
Now the trick was to get it every time. That would take practice.
It wasnât easy throwing and catching on my own. I needed someone to throw for me. I couldnât ask Mom, and Dad had taken Mike and Daniel to another dentist appointment. It wasnât something I could ask Jena to do, either. There was only one person who might be home and might be willing: Peter.
I walked to his house, which was only around the corner. I knew where he lived, but I hadnât been there in years. When I got there, he was in his garage, which was set up for a garage band. I didnât even know he played.
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