West got quiet and the first boy walked up the steps of the stage they’d set up under one of the baskets, sat down, took a deep breath, held his hands above the keys for a second, then started to play.
The next time Billy looked up at the clock, after the third kid—and first girl—had played, it was 11:15.
Billy knew it was all classical music because his mom usually had that kind of music playing in the house when she was there, working or cooking or just reading. He knew, because his mom had told him, that Ben was playing the hardest piece of anybody in the program, something by Mozart.
And other than hearing when somebody would make a mistake, hitting some clunky key and making a clunky sound that was like dragging a finger across a blackboard, that was about all Billy knew about the music he was listening to in the gym at West.
But he knew he’d made the right choice.
For his brother.
The audience had finished applauding the girl. It was Ben’s turn now. He came walking up the steps, looking straight ahead, his face real serious. He sat down and had to move the bench a little closer to the piano. When he had it adjusted the way he wanted, he turned and looked down to where Billy and Peg were sitting.
Maybe just to make sure.
Billy wasn’t sure if you were allowed to do this at a piano recital, but he gave his brother a couple of fist pumps.
Ben smiled.
Billy thought it was for the fist pump and that he would start playing now.
Only he didn’t.
He just kept staring out at the audience and smiling, and it was then that Billy heard, “Is this seat taken?”
And looked up and saw his mom.
TWENTY
He and Peg were out the door after the applause for Ben had finally stopped.
Billy didn’t know how good the kids coming after Ben on the program were going to be. But from what he’d heard so far, he couldn’t believe any of them would come close to his brother, who had blown everybody away.
As Billy had listened, he realized he couldn’t tell the difference between his brother’s music and what he’d hear on his mom’s radio at home.
That’s how well Ben had played.
Afterward, Billy applauded harder than anybody, didn’t even get embarrassed when he looked around and saw that he was the only one in the gym giving his brother a standing O.
His mom finally touched his arm and said, “Go.”
The clock said 11:25.
Halftime.
Maybe.
Before he left, Billy said to his mom, “When did you . . . ? How . . . ?”
She said, “I was on my way to the airport in Boston about ten minutes after I talked to Ben and you. And I will give you all the other details later. But right now you have to go play your game.”
Billy changed in the backseat of Peg’s car.
Looking in the rearview mirror, she said, “I’m not peeking. But I didn’t notice you putting your uniform in the car.”
Billy said, “I was wearing it underneath my clothes. Just in case.”
Peg said, “Little bit like Superman changing in the phone booth.”
Ben was a Superman guy, because of his comic books. Billy had never even watched the cartoon show.
“What?” he said to Peg.
“I’m even older than I think sometimes,” Peg said, grinning at him in the rearview mirror. “Now I think I’ll just drive.”
The clock on her dashboard showed 11:40 when they pulled up in front of the gym, after having stopped at what felt like every single stoplight between West and the high school.
Billy ran up the front steps, through the double doors, past a table in the lobby where some girls he knew from school were selling drinks.
On his way across the lobby, he heard a horn sound.
And hoped it wasn’t the horn ending the game, that they hadn’t played faster than usual today. Or that they hadn’t started earlier than they were supposed to—
No. He was still in time.
They were getting ready to start the fourth quarter.
The scoreboard said the visitors were leading 28-24, but Billy had no way of knowing whether the Magic were the
The next time Billy looked up at the clock, after the third kid—and first girl—had played, it was 11:15.
Billy knew it was all classical music because his mom usually had that kind of music playing in the house when she was there, working or cooking or just reading. He knew, because his mom had told him, that Ben was playing the hardest piece of anybody in the program, something by Mozart.
And other than hearing when somebody would make a mistake, hitting some clunky key and making a clunky sound that was like dragging a finger across a blackboard, that was about all Billy knew about the music he was listening to in the gym at West.
But he knew he’d made the right choice.
For his brother.
The audience had finished applauding the girl. It was Ben’s turn now. He came walking up the steps, looking straight ahead, his face real serious. He sat down and had to move the bench a little closer to the piano. When he had it adjusted the way he wanted, he turned and looked down to where Billy and Peg were sitting.
Maybe just to make sure.
Billy wasn’t sure if you were allowed to do this at a piano recital, but he gave his brother a couple of fist pumps.
Ben smiled.
Billy thought it was for the fist pump and that he would start playing now.
Only he didn’t.
He just kept staring out at the audience and smiling, and it was then that Billy heard, “Is this seat taken?”
And looked up and saw his mom.
TWENTY
He and Peg were out the door after the applause for Ben had finally stopped.
Billy didn’t know how good the kids coming after Ben on the program were going to be. But from what he’d heard so far, he couldn’t believe any of them would come close to his brother, who had blown everybody away.
As Billy had listened, he realized he couldn’t tell the difference between his brother’s music and what he’d hear on his mom’s radio at home.
That’s how well Ben had played.
Afterward, Billy applauded harder than anybody, didn’t even get embarrassed when he looked around and saw that he was the only one in the gym giving his brother a standing O.
His mom finally touched his arm and said, “Go.”
The clock said 11:25.
Halftime.
Maybe.
Before he left, Billy said to his mom, “When did you . . . ? How . . . ?”
She said, “I was on my way to the airport in Boston about ten minutes after I talked to Ben and you. And I will give you all the other details later. But right now you have to go play your game.”
Billy changed in the backseat of Peg’s car.
Looking in the rearview mirror, she said, “I’m not peeking. But I didn’t notice you putting your uniform in the car.”
Billy said, “I was wearing it underneath my clothes. Just in case.”
Peg said, “Little bit like Superman changing in the phone booth.”
Ben was a Superman guy, because of his comic books. Billy had never even watched the cartoon show.
“What?” he said to Peg.
“I’m even older than I think sometimes,” Peg said, grinning at him in the rearview mirror. “Now I think I’ll just drive.”
The clock on her dashboard showed 11:40 when they pulled up in front of the gym, after having stopped at what felt like every single stoplight between West and the high school.
Billy ran up the front steps, through the double doors, past a table in the lobby where some girls he knew from school were selling drinks.
On his way across the lobby, he heard a horn sound.
And hoped it wasn’t the horn ending the game, that they hadn’t played faster than usual today. Or that they hadn’t started earlier than they were supposed to—
No. He was still in time.
They were getting ready to start the fourth quarter.
The scoreboard said the visitors were leading 28-24, but Billy had no way of knowing whether the Magic were the
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