The Off Season by Catherine Gilbert Murdock Page B

said was doing pretty well but that I'd better keep resting and doing this boring PT stuff. And Mom's job as well, which I didn't know too much about but I bet being a school principal can add an ounce or two of tension to one's life every once in a while.
    "A little," Mom said.
    Which meant a big talk on how stress contributes to back pain, which I'm sure just added to her tension that much more. Although at least he said I didn't need my sling anymore. That was one good thing.
    Then I had to drive her home, although Dr. Miller gave her these pills that kind of took the edge off things. Maybe they were the same as Brian's dad's. I don't know if they stopped the pain or just got her not to mind it so much, but either one was fine with me.
    "Oh, D.J., what would I do without you?" she kept murmuring, which is exactly what I was thinking, but it sounded better coming from her. Now that I was home, I actually missed school. All those kids who'd badmouthed me about football were probably thinking I'd cut school because I'm a quitter, not because I was stuck caring for Mom. Besides, I was also, duh, missing classes, and a ton of homework that I'm sure the teachers weren't holding back on just because quitter D.J. Schwenk couldn't make it in.
    I was getting Mom another pop and me one too, to cheer me up, when my cell phone rang, lying there on the counter plugged into its charger because I forgot to carry it to the doctor's office because I always forget to carry it. Amber's name blinked in the little window.
    "Hey there," I answered, relieved it wasn't a kid from school calling to bawl me out.
    But it turned out that it was. "Where
were
you!" Amber shouted. "Why didn't you pick up?"
    "Whoa..." I slid outside, away from Mom's ears. "What's going on?"
    Amber took this big shaky breath. "We—we got back last night, you know, and it was really late and she never comes in—" It was hard to make out what she was saying because she was gasping so much, and also because a UPS truck was grinding up our driveway.
    "Who never comes in?" I asked, wondering what Mom had ordered. A new back, I hoped.
    "Lori! My mother? She just goes to work. But she came in!"
    "In where?" I asked. The UPS driver—how come UPS drivers are always nice? Is that part of their job description?—handed me this flat package, the letter kind, and drove off with a wave.
    "What, are you stupid? In my room! She caught us!"
    "Oh. Wow." I tried to sound concerned—I mean, I should be concerned, it would really concern me if Mom caught me with Brian, these days especially—but the UPS package was addressed to me of all people and I was trying to get it open.
    "Yeah! And she totally flipped. She was screaming, and hitting me, and she and Dale got in a huge fight, and she—she kicked me out."
    All of a sudden a copy of
People
slipped out. With a Post-it note signed "The Turkey Farmer" and another Post-it note sticking out of the pages.
    "We're taking off," Amber said. "Dale's packing the truck right now. I'm leaving this stupid town and my stupid mother and I'm never coming back."
    I opened up the magazine and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe.
    "D.J.! I want to see you. I want to say goodbye before I leave!"
    "Can I—can I call you back?" I didn't even wait for her answer, just hung up the phone and collapsed on our driveway, dropping my head between my knees so I wouldn't throw up.

12. "He's Just a Friend"
    T HE HEADLINE WASN'T SO BAD , really. It was a standard
People
story too, like those articles about a housewife who invents a new thing, or a cat that sails around the world by mistake. The article—well, I've got one here I can copy.
FOR THIS GIRL,
Football Is Part of the Family
    "It's just something we do." That's how Darlene Joyce Schwenk, a starter for the Red Bend, Wisconsin, High School football team, explains her part in a family gridiron tradition.
    Her oldest brother, Win, a quarterback at the University of Washington, admits