Read Online Where I Belong by Gwendolyn Heasley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gwendolyn Heasley
Tags: United States, Fiction, Family & Relationships, History, Juvenile Fiction, Family Life, Social Issues, Love & Romance, State & Local, Texas, Schools, New Experience, High schools, Adolescence, Moving; Household, Parenting, Self-actualization (Psychology), Southwest, Grandparenting, Grandparents, Family life - Texas
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long time.
With Grandpa and his buddies, I get to relive Broken Spoke’s last State Championship season, game by game, play by play. Although it occurred fifty-two years ago, these men talk in the present tense as if it were days ago rather than a half century.
Grandma, Grandpa, and I eventually settle into front-row seats in the senior citizen section and the kickoff occurs. I sigh. Finally. An eerie, deadly silence takes over the Broken Spoke crowd until they score the first touchdown. I swear to you no one even breathes until the Mockingbirds are up by seven. Soon after, that kid Bubby from my Spanish class intercepts the ball and scores the second touchdown. Our section erupts into deafening applause; I’ve heard sirens that are more pleasing to the ears.
Grandpa points to number twenty, Bubby.
“You meet that boy yet, Corrinne?” Grandpa asks when the thunder of applause dies out. “They say he’sgoing to make it big-time. Division one, Longhorn scholarship, maybe even the NFL one day. We haven’t ever had a Spoker make it to the NFL. All talk right now, of course, but I think he’s got it. Real good kid, too. Academic as well, so your grandmomma says. Way back when, your momma knew his father.”
I don’t tell Grandpa that he’s the Neanderthal that calls me Manhattan, one of only two people at the whole school who talk to me. The game, despite the fact that I am the only teenager seated in the geriatric section, passes by quickly enough. For a few seconds, when the Spoke temporarily falls behind the Bluebonnets, I find myself clenching my fist, holding my breath, and praying that Broken Spoke wins. When I realize that I might actually care about the outcome of this barbaric game, confusion overcomes me. Newfound school spirit? Hardly. I chalk it up to the fact that this town’s depressing enough; I am not sure what a loss would do to it.
After the game, I see Kitsy skipping, yes skipping, toward the grandparents and me as she pumps one white pom-pom up and down. I wonder what kind of uppers she is on and if she can get me some.
“Can you believe it, Corrinne? Big win. Huge win. And did you see those lame Bonnets totally mess up their cheer? Amateurs. You ready to go? Oh, excuse my manners. I’ve seen y’all around town, but we’ve neveractually met. I am Kitsy Kidd, and it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran.”
“Houston,” Grandma quickly corrects. “Mr. and Mrs. Houston.”
“Hello, Miss Kitsy,” Grandpa says. “Any chance you are related to Amber Kidd?”
Kitsy pauses. “She’s my mom,” Kitsy says quietly, and bends down to tie her shoe.
Grandma nudges Grandpa in an obvious way, and I feel myself blush even though I don’t care what Kitsy thinks of me or my grandparents’ manners.
Kitsy stands up tall and takes a deep breath. “I promise that I am very responsible. My boyfriend, Hands, the quarterback, is an excellent driver. Corrinne will get home at a reasonable hour, and I’ll see to it. I can’t believe Corrinne’s from New York City. I have never met a New Yorker before and want to hear what it’s really like versus how it is in the movies. Someday I am going to move there. Or I hope so.”
Grandpa steps forward, shakes Kitsy’s hand, and says, “I didn’t realize that Corrinne had made such a nice friend.”
“And I didn’t know that you were going anywhere, Corrinne. We haven’t even discussed a curfew yet,” Grandma says as her eyes trace Kitsy’s frame.
Curfew? I wouldn’t even know how to convert NewYork time to Texas time. After all, they eat dinner at five p.m. here. Does that mean I need to be home by nine thirty p.m.?
“I’ll get her home by twelve, ma’am,” Kitsy says. I want to laugh. Midnight? Really? That was my middle school curfew.
“All right, Corrinne. I have your cell number, so go off with your friend. Try to have some fun,” Grandpa says, and Grandma turns to him, opens her mouth, but then closes it.
“No
With Grandpa and his buddies, I get to relive Broken Spoke’s last State Championship season, game by game, play by play. Although it occurred fifty-two years ago, these men talk in the present tense as if it were days ago rather than a half century.
Grandma, Grandpa, and I eventually settle into front-row seats in the senior citizen section and the kickoff occurs. I sigh. Finally. An eerie, deadly silence takes over the Broken Spoke crowd until they score the first touchdown. I swear to you no one even breathes until the Mockingbirds are up by seven. Soon after, that kid Bubby from my Spanish class intercepts the ball and scores the second touchdown. Our section erupts into deafening applause; I’ve heard sirens that are more pleasing to the ears.
Grandpa points to number twenty, Bubby.
“You meet that boy yet, Corrinne?” Grandpa asks when the thunder of applause dies out. “They say he’sgoing to make it big-time. Division one, Longhorn scholarship, maybe even the NFL one day. We haven’t ever had a Spoker make it to the NFL. All talk right now, of course, but I think he’s got it. Real good kid, too. Academic as well, so your grandmomma says. Way back when, your momma knew his father.”
I don’t tell Grandpa that he’s the Neanderthal that calls me Manhattan, one of only two people at the whole school who talk to me. The game, despite the fact that I am the only teenager seated in the geriatric section, passes by quickly enough. For a few seconds, when the Spoke temporarily falls behind the Bluebonnets, I find myself clenching my fist, holding my breath, and praying that Broken Spoke wins. When I realize that I might actually care about the outcome of this barbaric game, confusion overcomes me. Newfound school spirit? Hardly. I chalk it up to the fact that this town’s depressing enough; I am not sure what a loss would do to it.
After the game, I see Kitsy skipping, yes skipping, toward the grandparents and me as she pumps one white pom-pom up and down. I wonder what kind of uppers she is on and if she can get me some.
“Can you believe it, Corrinne? Big win. Huge win. And did you see those lame Bonnets totally mess up their cheer? Amateurs. You ready to go? Oh, excuse my manners. I’ve seen y’all around town, but we’ve neveractually met. I am Kitsy Kidd, and it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran.”
“Houston,” Grandma quickly corrects. “Mr. and Mrs. Houston.”
“Hello, Miss Kitsy,” Grandpa says. “Any chance you are related to Amber Kidd?”
Kitsy pauses. “She’s my mom,” Kitsy says quietly, and bends down to tie her shoe.
Grandma nudges Grandpa in an obvious way, and I feel myself blush even though I don’t care what Kitsy thinks of me or my grandparents’ manners.
Kitsy stands up tall and takes a deep breath. “I promise that I am very responsible. My boyfriend, Hands, the quarterback, is an excellent driver. Corrinne will get home at a reasonable hour, and I’ll see to it. I can’t believe Corrinne’s from New York City. I have never met a New Yorker before and want to hear what it’s really like versus how it is in the movies. Someday I am going to move there. Or I hope so.”
Grandpa steps forward, shakes Kitsy’s hand, and says, “I didn’t realize that Corrinne had made such a nice friend.”
“And I didn’t know that you were going anywhere, Corrinne. We haven’t even discussed a curfew yet,” Grandma says as her eyes trace Kitsy’s frame.
Curfew? I wouldn’t even know how to convert NewYork time to Texas time. After all, they eat dinner at five p.m. here. Does that mean I need to be home by nine thirty p.m.?
“I’ll get her home by twelve, ma’am,” Kitsy says. I want to laugh. Midnight? Really? That was my middle school curfew.
“All right, Corrinne. I have your cell number, so go off with your friend. Try to have some fun,” Grandpa says, and Grandma turns to him, opens her mouth, but then closes it.
“No
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