Wind Up, Derek Jeter [little red riding hood read aloud .txt] 📗

to get used to, I’ve got to make new friends from scratch—I’m sick of it!”

No wonder Dave’s friendships here in Kalamazoo were so precious to him, Derek realized. No wonder he was so upset!

Chase rolled the driver’s window down. “You okay, Dave?” he asked. “Hi, Derek.”

“Hi, Chase,” Derek said. “I guess you’re leaving too, huh?”

“No, not me. The Hennums want me to stay and look after the house. And they’ll be around more for Dave over there, so…”

Derek suddenly felt the weight of this new reality pressing down on him. Chase must have sensed how he felt, because he added, “You know, two years isn’t really that long; you have your whole lives ahead of you. In the meantime, you guys can write to each other, even call once in a while. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world.”

Derek nodded, but he had a hard time believing it. Two years might as well be forever. By that time, Dave would have made all-new friends. And who knew if the Hennums would move back to Kalamazoo?

“We’ve got to get back, Dave. Your folks said six o’clock for dinner.”

“I’ve got to go too,” Derek said. “See you tomorrow in school?”

Dave nodded, still looking at the ground. Derek turned and went inside. He heard the car door shut, and the sedan drive off. He closed the front door, as if he were closing it on his past life and leaving it behind forever.

Chapter Five END OF THE LINE?

“I’m so excited for my game, Derek! Aren’t you?”

“I am so excited, Sharlee. Very, very excited. I’ll be even more excited for you on Wednesday, when the game actually happens.”

Derek looked up from his math textbook. Sharlee was staring over his shoulder at the pile of review papers scattered around him on the coffee table.

“You don’t sound excited,” she said, pouting. “You sound annoyed.”

“Sorry,” he said sincerely. “I’m not annoyed. Not at you. More at life.”

“Huh?”

“Ah, forget it. It’s not important.”

“Well, my game is important. You could at least pretend you were excited about it.”

“Aw, come on, Sharlee. I really am excited—for both of us. But you know I’ve got a game on Wednesday myself.”

“You mean you can’t come to my game? Again?”

“Can I help it if we both have games at the same time? I don’t make up the schedules.”

“Can’t you just skip your game and come see mine? Pleeeeze?”

“You know I can’t, Sharlee. Remember, my team’s in the playoffs. It isn’t every year you get a shot at a championship.”

Sharlee seemed taken aback. “Yes, it is,” she insisted. “My teams win every single year.”

“So far. One of these years, you might not.”

“That’s just silly.”

“Sharlee, didn’t anyone ever tell you that you can’t win ’em all?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and grinning. “And I wouldn’t believe them anyway. You never think you’re going to lose!”

“Well, I’ve been on teams that didn’t go to the playoffs, so…”

“Yeah, but that’s you, not me.”

“Well, there you go. I can’t argue with that. Case closed.” Derek tickled her ribs, and she ran off, giggling.

Then she came back, keeping a safe distance. “What is all this mess, anyway?”

“It’s for school. Big tests coming up.”

“But it’s Sunday night, Derek! Aren’t you done studying yet?”

Derek shook his head and sighed. “Not yet,” he confessed.

“You’re being so boring!” she said, turning and heading for the kitchen. “I’m going to see if Mommy wants to play.”

Derek would rather have been playing with her than trying to pound numbers into his skull. His brain was so stressed, it was hard to concentrate on anything!

He still hadn’t told his parents about Dave. They’d asked him what was wrong over dinner, but he’d said he didn’t want to talk about it.

Derek shut his textbook, piled the mess of papers on top of it, and carried the whole stack upstairs to his room. “You okay, old man?” his mother called after him. He turned back to look at her and saw that Sharlee was clinging to her leg, dragging her toward the living room to play.

“I’m not feeling too well,” Derek said. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Oh dear. I’ll come up in a little while and see you.” Then, “Don’t pull, Sharlee. I’m coming.”

Derek washed up and got ready for bed. He had no energy at all, as if something had been drained out of him. He must have been lying on his back for a full half hour before he heard his mom’s soft knock on the door. “Come in,” he said.

“Still not feeling well?” She took one look at him and answered her own question. “What’s wrong, honey? What happened?”

Derek told her, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

“Oh, Derek.” She hugged him as they sat side by side on the edge of the bed. “That’s a hard blow. Really hard. I’m so sorry.”

She gave him a little squeeze, then let go. “But you know, it doesn’t have to mean the end of your friendship. If you two both want to stay friends, you can make it happen.”

“By writing letters?” Derek asked. “That’s what Chase said too. But I don’t know…. I’ve never been much good at writing stuff.”

“You’ve never had to be!” she said. “But if you knew it would help you stay friends, and stay in touch till you see each other again, why wouldn’t you do it?”

“I guess.”

“There you go.” Giving him a kiss on the forehead, she added, “Now, good night, early bird. Feel better in the morning.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Lying in bed, Derek pictured himself sitting at a desk, writing Dave a long letter, telling him everything that was happening—all the games on the Hill, school stuff, the basketball team this fall…

Dave wouldn’t be there for that, either. They’d been looking forward to being starters together on the Friars in September.

Well, thought Derek, if it meant he had a chance to stay friends with Dave, he would sit down and write letters, whether he liked doing it or not.

But what about