store. She didnât look at him as she headed through the red curtain.
âPhil, Iâm sorry⦠,â Matt began, waving to his friend. There was nothing else to say.
The next morning, Matt rose at 5:45, went directly to the basement and grabbed a can of white exterior paint and a brush that had been there since he had coated the fence the previous summer. He hung the paint can over his handlebars as he pedaled his way into a brisk headwind toward Wongâs Grocery.
He felt a little better after talking to Phil the night before, but as he reached the back of the store, the shame returned. The Wongs had scrubbed off most of the graffiti, but you could still clearly make out the outline of the horrible messages scrawled by Jackson and his friends.
There was no snow this morning, but it was cold and windy as Matt opened the can and slowly began to paint over the wall. He erased any trace of the graffiti, so it was as though the ugly incident had never happened. But Matt knew better.
The back door of the store opened and Philâs grandmother stuck out her head. She glanced at the paint can, then at Matt and the freshly painted wall. When she realized what he had done, she flashed the warm smile and sparkly eyes that he had seen so many times before. âYou lucky boy,â she said and she ducked back inside.
Matt returned home just in time to catch his mom at the kitchen table eating a bagel and reading the Post . âWhere did you get off to so early this morning?â she asked.
Matt gulped. This was it, he thought, his chance to tell his mother. And once he began, the story again poured out of him. He didnât stop, or even attempt to read his motherâs soft brown eyes, until he had finished.
She cleared her throat and looked directly at him. âWell, Matt, I have to admit Iâm disappointed you would agree to go along with boys who were planning to do something like that. That is somebodyâs property, and you should know better. But I am proud of the way youâve tried to make it right. Please, just promise me you wonât hang out with those guys anymore.â
Matt nodded. He had absolutely no plans to do that.
chapter ten
For the first time since the graffiti incident, Mattâs mind was finally clear, and he was looking forward to basketball practice the next afternoon. But when Coach Stephens blew his whistle to start the session at precisely 3:55 p.m., two players were missing.
âI have an announcement to make,â said the coach, speaking slowly and clearly. âAnd Iâm going to make this simple.
âGrant Jackson is no longer part of this basketball team. He was suspended earlier this year for a game and then given one second chance. Last week, as some of you might have heard by now, he did some tagging with Andrew McTavish â a really stupid, senseless, hurtful thing to do. As you know, I only give my players one second chance. Jackson is now off the squad.
âAnd thatâs not all,â the coach continued. âMcTavish has been suspended for one game for his part in it. He will be allowed back after the Churchill game and he, too, will get one second chance.â
Matt couldnât believe his ears. Jackson had been punished and so had McTavish. Philâs grandmother must have gone to the principal. But she must have kept quiet about Matt being there that night too. All this came as a shock. Matt had been so overwhelmed with personal guilt since Friday night he hadnât even thought about the implications for the basketball team.
There were more surprises. Coach Stephens informed the team that he was elevating Jake and Phil from the junior varsity to fill the vacancies created by the permanent loss of Jackson and White and the temporary absence of McTavish. Mattâs two buddies were going to join him on the Stingers. Normally, he would have been ecstatic to hear this news, but something new was now gnawing on his
âPhil, Iâm sorry⦠,â Matt began, waving to his friend. There was nothing else to say.
The next morning, Matt rose at 5:45, went directly to the basement and grabbed a can of white exterior paint and a brush that had been there since he had coated the fence the previous summer. He hung the paint can over his handlebars as he pedaled his way into a brisk headwind toward Wongâs Grocery.
He felt a little better after talking to Phil the night before, but as he reached the back of the store, the shame returned. The Wongs had scrubbed off most of the graffiti, but you could still clearly make out the outline of the horrible messages scrawled by Jackson and his friends.
There was no snow this morning, but it was cold and windy as Matt opened the can and slowly began to paint over the wall. He erased any trace of the graffiti, so it was as though the ugly incident had never happened. But Matt knew better.
The back door of the store opened and Philâs grandmother stuck out her head. She glanced at the paint can, then at Matt and the freshly painted wall. When she realized what he had done, she flashed the warm smile and sparkly eyes that he had seen so many times before. âYou lucky boy,â she said and she ducked back inside.
Matt returned home just in time to catch his mom at the kitchen table eating a bagel and reading the Post . âWhere did you get off to so early this morning?â she asked.
Matt gulped. This was it, he thought, his chance to tell his mother. And once he began, the story again poured out of him. He didnât stop, or even attempt to read his motherâs soft brown eyes, until he had finished.
She cleared her throat and looked directly at him. âWell, Matt, I have to admit Iâm disappointed you would agree to go along with boys who were planning to do something like that. That is somebodyâs property, and you should know better. But I am proud of the way youâve tried to make it right. Please, just promise me you wonât hang out with those guys anymore.â
Matt nodded. He had absolutely no plans to do that.
chapter ten
For the first time since the graffiti incident, Mattâs mind was finally clear, and he was looking forward to basketball practice the next afternoon. But when Coach Stephens blew his whistle to start the session at precisely 3:55 p.m., two players were missing.
âI have an announcement to make,â said the coach, speaking slowly and clearly. âAnd Iâm going to make this simple.
âGrant Jackson is no longer part of this basketball team. He was suspended earlier this year for a game and then given one second chance. Last week, as some of you might have heard by now, he did some tagging with Andrew McTavish â a really stupid, senseless, hurtful thing to do. As you know, I only give my players one second chance. Jackson is now off the squad.
âAnd thatâs not all,â the coach continued. âMcTavish has been suspended for one game for his part in it. He will be allowed back after the Churchill game and he, too, will get one second chance.â
Matt couldnât believe his ears. Jackson had been punished and so had McTavish. Philâs grandmother must have gone to the principal. But she must have kept quiet about Matt being there that night too. All this came as a shock. Matt had been so overwhelmed with personal guilt since Friday night he hadnât even thought about the implications for the basketball team.
There were more surprises. Coach Stephens informed the team that he was elevating Jake and Phil from the junior varsity to fill the vacancies created by the permanent loss of Jackson and White and the temporary absence of McTavish. Mattâs two buddies were going to join him on the Stingers. Normally, he would have been ecstatic to hear this news, but something new was now gnawing on his
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