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Authors: Kim Heacox
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his head. How much was 750 percent? And what about Neptune?
Gracie pointed a spatula at Truman. “Did you know that student debt is now more than total credit card debt in this country, almost a trillion dollars? How insane is that?”
Keb thought: There’s my Gracie, the firebrand she used to be. He watched James squirm to see his mother become a little strident.
“I did know that,” Truman said.
“I didn’t,” Carmen said. “That’s terrible, students going into debt while coaches get superrich. Neptune is still a planet by the way, Keb. But it doesn’t have the cosmic influence that Jupiter or Mars or Mercury or Venus have.”
“I can’t believe you buy into that astrology crap,” James said.
“I can’t believe you buy into basketball,” Daisy fired back. “What does it matter what team wins? Does it feed the hungry or comfort the weak or shelter the homeless? All it does is entertain people who should be out doing something better with their lives.”
“Basketball was charming once,” Stuart said. “Today it’s big business.”
“Welcome to the United States of Money,” Truman announced. “That’s why PacAlaska wants to get into Crystal Bay. It’s all about money.”
“Mining, timber, and tourism,” Gracie said. “What better way to screw over a people’s homeland.”
Again, James squirmed.
“What’s so wrong with money?” Coach Nicks asked. Old Keb could see him chewing on Truman’s comments, wiping his plate with waffle number six. He had blue eyes and butch-cut blond hair, and came from Kansas, where basketball, according to Gracie, was a religion. He taught history at Jinkaat High School and volunteered at the local library and read books the size of concrete cinder blocks and never missed church and was considered the most learned man in Jinkaat until Truman showed up with his dark ponytail and goatee, the coach’s mirror opposite. Truman was from New York. He said that his hippie parents conceived him at Woodstock while Jimi Hendrix played “The Star- Spangled Banner” left-handed and upside down. He was born eight months, three weeks, one day, and fourteen hours later, at the exact moment the Ohio National Guard opened fire and killed four students at Kent State University. It was destiny, Carmen said, that Truman should become a writer and antiwar activist, and make cosmic babies with her or Daisy, which he had yet to do, butboth women remained hopeful. Truman Stein was a genius in their eyes, an almost-Einstein, given his name, a partial visionary, a thinker of almost-great thoughts, which for Carmen and Daisy, was enough. He never went to church, and once told Coach Nicks that imagination was more important than knowledge, and knowledge more important than faith, but Keb could tell the coach had a hard time imagining it. The Kansas conservative said, “You reward excellence with money. A good professional athlete deserves a good income.”
The New York liberal replied, “What’s the dollar limit?”
“As much as somebody’s willing to pay,” James said. He sat aslant of the table, his body turned so his braced leg could extend from his chair, his eyebrows stitched together as the discussion spiraled onto sports and money. Not good topics, Keb thought, for a wounded warrior feeling trapped by the bland inevitability of the rest of his life. So much heart and heartache over a game.
He needs to beat on a log
, Keb thought.
He needs to work with his hands. Build a boat
.
Gracie said, “Who wants another waffle?”
Hands went up. Little Mac dumped more bacon onto the table and it disappeared. She said, “How’d everybody get so hungry?”
Stuart said, “I think Tommy and Charlie are up on Pepper Mountain looking for something.”
“What, exactly?” Carmen asked.
“Probably whatever it is they said broke that day, when the logs came loose on the skid trail.”
James huffed.
The table went quiet.
“Tommy’s the dangerous one,” James
Gracie pointed a spatula at Truman. “Did you know that student debt is now more than total credit card debt in this country, almost a trillion dollars? How insane is that?”
Keb thought: There’s my Gracie, the firebrand she used to be. He watched James squirm to see his mother become a little strident.
“I did know that,” Truman said.
“I didn’t,” Carmen said. “That’s terrible, students going into debt while coaches get superrich. Neptune is still a planet by the way, Keb. But it doesn’t have the cosmic influence that Jupiter or Mars or Mercury or Venus have.”
“I can’t believe you buy into that astrology crap,” James said.
“I can’t believe you buy into basketball,” Daisy fired back. “What does it matter what team wins? Does it feed the hungry or comfort the weak or shelter the homeless? All it does is entertain people who should be out doing something better with their lives.”
“Basketball was charming once,” Stuart said. “Today it’s big business.”
“Welcome to the United States of Money,” Truman announced. “That’s why PacAlaska wants to get into Crystal Bay. It’s all about money.”
“Mining, timber, and tourism,” Gracie said. “What better way to screw over a people’s homeland.”
Again, James squirmed.
“What’s so wrong with money?” Coach Nicks asked. Old Keb could see him chewing on Truman’s comments, wiping his plate with waffle number six. He had blue eyes and butch-cut blond hair, and came from Kansas, where basketball, according to Gracie, was a religion. He taught history at Jinkaat High School and volunteered at the local library and read books the size of concrete cinder blocks and never missed church and was considered the most learned man in Jinkaat until Truman showed up with his dark ponytail and goatee, the coach’s mirror opposite. Truman was from New York. He said that his hippie parents conceived him at Woodstock while Jimi Hendrix played “The Star- Spangled Banner” left-handed and upside down. He was born eight months, three weeks, one day, and fourteen hours later, at the exact moment the Ohio National Guard opened fire and killed four students at Kent State University. It was destiny, Carmen said, that Truman should become a writer and antiwar activist, and make cosmic babies with her or Daisy, which he had yet to do, butboth women remained hopeful. Truman Stein was a genius in their eyes, an almost-Einstein, given his name, a partial visionary, a thinker of almost-great thoughts, which for Carmen and Daisy, was enough. He never went to church, and once told Coach Nicks that imagination was more important than knowledge, and knowledge more important than faith, but Keb could tell the coach had a hard time imagining it. The Kansas conservative said, “You reward excellence with money. A good professional athlete deserves a good income.”
The New York liberal replied, “What’s the dollar limit?”
“As much as somebody’s willing to pay,” James said. He sat aslant of the table, his body turned so his braced leg could extend from his chair, his eyebrows stitched together as the discussion spiraled onto sports and money. Not good topics, Keb thought, for a wounded warrior feeling trapped by the bland inevitability of the rest of his life. So much heart and heartache over a game.
He needs to beat on a log
, Keb thought.
He needs to work with his hands. Build a boat
.
Gracie said, “Who wants another waffle?”
Hands went up. Little Mac dumped more bacon onto the table and it disappeared. She said, “How’d everybody get so hungry?”
Stuart said, “I think Tommy and Charlie are up on Pepper Mountain looking for something.”
“What, exactly?” Carmen asked.
“Probably whatever it is they said broke that day, when the logs came loose on the skid trail.”
James huffed.
The table went quiet.
“Tommy’s the dangerous one,” James
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