Catch Me

Chapter 12

JESSE FLEW OFF THE SCHOOL BUS, slinging his Red Sox backpack over his left shoulder while dashing down the snowy street. Didn’t have a watch. Wasn’t sure about the time, but the bus had been late. Wouldn’t it figure that today of all days the bus would be late? Had to hurry, hurry, hurry.

He hit the front steps of the apartment building and jumped them two at a time before slapping the palm of his hand against the buzzer for his apartment. His mom, expecting him, buzzed back. He jerked open the heavy outer door and leapt for the stairs, missing the bottom two, hitting the edge of the third and sliding down on his knees before he got his feet beneath him and finished the long rat-a-tat dash up three levels. He was already digging in his coat pocket for the apartment key. He arrived at his unit’s front door, sweaty, trembling, and feeling a little sick.

Couldn’t be late, didn’t want to be late.

Helmet Hippo was depending on him.

Jesse jammed the metal key in the lock, got the door open, and burst into the apartment, already hemorrhaging boots, backpack, mittens, coat, hat, snow pants. No time for snack. Gotta move, move, move.

He sprinted for the table, hitting the power button above the keyboard of the computer as his mother yelled down the hall: “Jesse, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just gonna play a game.”

“Jesse?”

“AthleteAnimalz. Geez, Mom, everything’s all right!” Second the words left his mouth, Jesse bit his lower lip, realizing too late, he should’ve watched his tone. Sometimes, if he was “fresh,” his mother would take his computer privileges away. He paused, hand still on the computer, eyes on the screen as the old laptop slowly churned to life.

But his mother didn’t appear in the hallway, didn’t say anything more. Probably on a call, couldn’t tear herself away. Jesse felt guilty, but grateful. He darted away from the loading computer long enough to grab Zombie Bear and a glass of milk. The stove clock told him it was 3:42 P.M.

Yep, he was late. Very late.

He flew back to the table, sloshing some of the milk over the rim of the glass, then had to run back to the kitchen for a napkin, and by the time he returned and cleaned up the mess, his heart was really going thump, thump, thump and he didn’t feel well again. He was hot, like shaky and trembly and he wanted to cry, but he didn’t know why.

He was late and Helmet Hippo would be mad and he’d been fresh and now probably his mom was all mad and he just wanted a friend; he just wanted everything to be okay and for someone to like him, and for his mom to not have to work so hard and for their downstairs neighbor Mrs. Flowers not to bang on the floor all the time when he was trying to use quiet feet but still wasn’t so quiet.

Jesse plopped down in front of the computer, entered the AthleteAnimalz website, and did his best not to weep. He knew he was late. He still didn’t want to blubber like a big baby.

Homerun Bear had mail. Jesse’s arm was trembling so badly, it took him three tries with the mouse to click on the mailbox icon. The letter was from Helmet Hippo. It included a smiley face and a picture of a baseball mitt.

“Hey Bud. I’m here and ready to play. Find me when you’re ready. Your friend, Helmet Hippo.”

Then Jesse did cry. Giant tears of relief. Helmet Hippo wasn’t mad at him. Helmet Hippo still wanted to play.

Helmet Hippo was still his friend.

Jesse sobbed gratefully.