Bobby the Brave (Sometimes) (5 page)

L
uckily for Bobby, he didn't have PE every day. It was Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, leaving him Tuesday and Thursday, plus the weekend, to recover. Mr. Rainerhaus was a very stern teacher. Each class started with fifty jumping jacks and a brisk run around the playground with him yelling, “Faster! Go faster!”

Bobby didn't like it when people yelled at him. Some kids didn't let it bother them when they were yelled at, like St. James. St. James got yelled at all the time. But when someone yelled at Bobby, even if it was a despicable person like Jillian Zarr, it made him feel bad for a long time.

“Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty!”

Mr. Rainerhaus blew his whistle. Everyone stopped, except for Jackson. Jackson was weird and loved jumping jacks as much as Bobby loved skateboarding. If there was a world record for jumping jacks, Jackson could probably break it. Bobby wondered if one day he'd ever break any records, like Troy Eagle. Troy held the world-record ollie — fifty-two inches in the air. That was taller than Bobby.

“I know we've been playing soccer for a while,” Mr. Rainerhaus announced, “so it's time for a change. And this one will be quite a treat! We'll finish up soccer today and start a new sport on Monday.”

Bobby blinked several times. It looked like Mr. Rainerhaus was smiling at him.

“What do you think we'll play next?” Chess whispered.

Bobby shrugged. He was fine with soccer. Soccer wasn't so bad. All you had to do was run up and down the field. He could do that. During the last game, he scored a point when Swoozie, who was the goalie, was watching a butterfly.

Bobby hoped they wouldn't be playing softball. Softball was bad news. You could get hit by the ball and get a concussion. His dad had gotten a concussion more than once when playing football.

At the end of soccer, Mr. Rainerhaus gathered the students. “We have a celebrity among us!” he announced. Bobby tried to spot the celebrity, but all he saw was one of the boys picking his nose by pretending he had an itch, and a girl scratching her armpit and then looking horrified when she saw Bobby watching. Maybe Swoozie was the celebrity because she was such a good singer.

Then Mr. Rainerhaus winked at Bobby and proclaimed, “I can't believe I've gone all this time without realizing that the son of my all-time favorite football player is in this class!”

Bobby flinched.

“Bobby Ellis-Chan, why didn't you tell me that The Freezer is your father?” Mr. Rainerhaus squatted, put one arm out, and growled in an imitation of The Freezer's most famous move. “Best linebacker the LA Earthquakes ever had. Best darn football player this country has ever seen!” Mr. Rainerhaus enthused. “My world stood still when Sam Benzoni tackled The Freezer and busted his knee. The day he retired from football was one of the saddest days of my life. I even cried. And I'm man enough to admit that!”

He looked like he was about to cry again.

Bobby decided to change his superhero power from superhuman strength to invisibility. He would give anything to be invisible right now.

“So!” Mr. Rainerhaus said, clearing his throat, “in honor of The Freezer, and because we have his very own son right here in this class, next week we will start — FOOTBALL! Bobby Ellis-Chan, I'm going to be watching you,” he said, wagging a finger at Bobby. “I'll bet you can teach this class a thing or two. Heck, I'll bet you could teach
me
. Perhaps,” Mr. Rainerhaus laughed, “I'll just have you take over.”

Bobby glanced at Holly. She looked as worried as he did.

“Okay then,” Mr. Rainerhaus called out. “Class dismissed!”

Before Bobby could make his way back to Room 15, Mr. Rainerhaus stopped him. “It really is an honor to be your teacher,” he said. Then he shook Bobby's hand so hard it made Bobby's head bobble up and down. “I wonder …” Mr. Rainerhaus hesitated. “Is there any way I could meet your dad? Maybe he could come to PE. It would mean so much to me.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Bobby mumbled. He flexed his fingers to see if they still worked. “But my dad's pretty busy, you know, with stuff and things and stuff and … um, stuff. So he probably can't come to school.”

Mr. Rainerhaus grew solemn. “I understand,” he said, nodding. “A man like The Freezer probably has lots of important things to do.”

W
hen Bobby got home, he found his father unsuccessfully trying to remove the living room curtains from the vacuum cleaner. Bobby was feeling on edge. It was like that queasy feeling he got when watching scary movies with Annie — he knew something bad was going to happen, but he didn't know when. Except that Bobby knew he was doomed next Monday at 10
A.M.
during PE.

After greeting his dad, Bobby ditched his backpack in favor of his board and skated up and down his street. With each shuv-it, as he spun his skateboard 180 degrees, he loosened up. There was something liberating about skating. Planting your feet on the deck and the feeling of the sidewalk beneath you. The freedom of flight when you got air, and the hard solid landings when you ollied just right. Getting speed and then cruising. With skating, it was just Bobby and his board. No teams. No teacher. No rules.

Casey was squealing as she ran around the front lawn and pretended the lawn gnome was chasing her. “Gnomey Gnome Gnome was abandoned and I rescued him,” she had told her mother. “You said you wanted something for the garden, and he's practically as good as a moat!”

“Hey, Bobby, can I try?”

Bobby was surprised to see his father watching him from the driveway. “Oh, uh, sure,” he told his dad. “You'll need a brain bucket, though.” Mr. Ellis-Chan looked at him blankly. “A brain bucket is a helmet,” Bobby explained.

“How's this?” his father said, returning with his LA Earthquakes football helmet.

Bobby nodded. “That'll do.”

When his dad stepped on the skateboard and it bowed in the middle, Bobby grimaced. That was the board that Grammy and Gramps had let him pick out over the summer — the new Troy Eagle Pro 99 deck with Eagle trucks and Greased Lightning smooth-action titanium bearings. “Wait!” Bobby shouted. He ran into the house and brought out his old Troy Eagle Super 74 board. It was worn in all the right places from grinding the axles on the curb, the nose was battered from tricks, and there were Go Girly Girl stickers all over it courtesy of Casey, but otherwise it was in great shape.

“Here, use this,” Bobby said, offering up his old skateboard.

Mr. Ellis-Chan leapt on the board, then slowly he pushed off and headed down the street, gaining speed until …

CRASH!

“Are you okay?” Bobby yelled, running to his father.

“Wipeout!” Casey cried, hopping up and down and clapping. “Daddy wiped out! I'll get my doctor's kit.”

Mr. Ellis-Chan looked stricken as he got up. Bobby stared at the skateboard. It had snapped in half.

“I owe you one,” his father finally said. “I'm sorry, Bobby.”

Bobby clutched his broken skateboard. That was the board he had learned kick turns on. He wanted to cry, but held back. “That's okay, Dad,” he said. “I've got my new board.”

“But I broke it. I should have known better.”

“Really, it's okay,” Bobby insisted.

“Guess I should just stick to football,” his dad mumbled. “I'm no Troy Eagle. Well, I'd better go start dinner.”

Bobby stood holding his broken board as he watched his father trudge down the street toward home.

 

Later, while his father was downstairs in the kitchen stirring a big pot of something orange, Bobby checked in on Koloff and Beatrice. They looked bored. “Here,” he said, nudging the soccer ball with his finger. “Try pushing the ball.”

Neither appeared interested.

Rover could push his soccer ball into a net, and maneuver in and out of the hoops. Rover could follow Bobby's hand signals to swim back and forth, and even do flips. Even though it had been nearly a month since Rover died, Bobby still thought about him every day. Sometimes he would go into the backyard where Rover was buried and leave little presents, like a shiny penny or an interesting rock. He missed talking to him. Rover had been an excellent listener.

“Hey, you guys,” Bobby said as Beatrice circled the castle. “Do you have a couple of minutes to chat?” When they didn't say no, Bobby took that as a sign that he should continue. “My PE teacher thinks that just because I'm The Freezer's son, I'm good at football. I've got until Monday to figure out what to do.”

Koloff and Beatrice were silent for the longest time.

“I know,” Bobby agreed. “This is a tough one. I'm eating seven meals a day, and I'm doing a hundred sit-ups and push-ups every morning. Well, starting tomorrow I'm going to do that. I figure, if I'm bigger and stronger, I'll be better at football and won't embarrass myself in front of Mr. Rainerhaus and my class.”

Koloff did a spin around the aquarium.

“What was that?” Bobby asked. He sensed that Koloff was trying to tell him something. But he couldn't figure out what the fish wanted him to know. “What is it, Koloff? Is it about football?”

Koloff swam around the tank again.

“Something about not embarrassing myself?”

When Koloff rested inside the castle, Bobby gave up trying to guess what his fish was trying to tell him. Koloff wasn't like Rover, who was easy to understand. “Well, okay then, thanks for listening. We can talk more later. In the meantime, look what I have for you!” Bobby brought out one of the hoops that Rover used to play with. Carefully, he placed it in the water.

“Hey, squirt!” It was Annie. Her football jersey was covered in dirt. She looked into the aquarium. Koloff stared back at her. “What's up?”

“Not much.”

“Well, guess what?” Annie said. Even though she was wearing her helmet, Bobby could see her smile. “Coach says I'm one of the best quarterbacks Rancho Rosetta High School has ever had. Can you believe that?”

“I can believe that,” Bobby said. His voice was flat.

“You don't sound too happy,” Annie said. “What's with you?”

“What's with
you
?” Bobby shot back. “Why do you have to be so good at football?”

“Whoa, what's your problem?”

Bobby stared at Diver Dave. “I don't have a problem,” he said as his jaw tensed. “Everything's fine. Now leave me alone.”

“Geez,” Annie muttered as she backed out of the room. “And you say that
I'm
moody!”

Bobby waited until he was sure she was gone to start talking to his fish again. “It's not fair,” he told them. “I'll never be like Annie, no matter how hard I try.”