Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Not Growing Up (8 page)

Aurora took Mr. Radonski's hand. “Well, we all have to grow up sometime, don't we, honey?” she said sweetly.

“We sure do,” he said back to her. And then they kissed.

Now I've seen everything
, I said to myself.

“So what do you say?” Mr. Radonski asked. “Jookie's?”

Megan looked at me. “Your birthday, your call,” she said.

“Sure, I guess, for a little while,” I said.

“Let's do this!” Mr. Radonski said.

On our way out, Megan elbowed me in the ribs.

“Katie is going to be thrilled,” she said.

 

9

1:56 pm

Once I convinced Katie
that we'd only stay for twenty minutes, and once I kept Moose and Coco happy by giving them six French fries each, we headed over to Jookie's.

“Stop giving the dogs all that human food, they're going to get sick,” Megan said. I waved her off. Make them sick? Dogs
lived
for human food.

At Jookie's we ran into our first problem at the front door.

“Wait a second,” said Artie, the guy who worked there forever. He looked at Megan. “You're way too old for this place.”

Megan was shocked. “Seriously?”

Artie nodded. “Oh, yeah. You have to be in middle school or below to get in here. This is a youth-friendly environment.”

I laughed. “Jeez, Artie, if that's true then I can't get in, either. I'm graduating from middle school today.”

I liked Artie, but he didn't have much of a sense of humor. And he was definitely a stickler for the rules.

“Nice knowin' ya then,” Artie said.

My turn to be shocked. “Wait, what?”

Mr. Radonski, who was already inside, came to see what was going on. “Is there a problem, Artie?”

Artie shook his head. “No problem. Was just telling these high schoolers here that Jookie's is for youngsters.”

“Great rule following!” Mr. Radonski said. “Thanks, Artie! Only, I need Charlie Joe because he's my assistant referee for the air hockey tournament.”

“Well now, that's a horse of a different color,” Artie said. “Go on in.”

As we walked by, Artie grabbed my arm. “I was just giving you a hard time,” he said. “You're still welcome here right up until you graduate.”

“That's in four hours,” I told him.

“Well then, you better get on with it,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. Maybe he had a sense of humor after all.

The air hockey tournament was in full swing. Kids were running all over the place, screaming their heads off, generally having a blast.

“I thought you said this was a middle school tournament,” I said to Mr. Radonski.

“It is,” he said. “These kids are going into sixth grade.”

I couldn't believe it, and neither could Katie. They practically looked like toddlers. “No way,” she said.

Mr. Radonski laughed. “Yup. Incredible how young they seem, isn't it?”

“They've probably never even heard of high school,” said Megan.

Suddenly I heard a familiar voice. “CHARLIE JOE!”

I turned around and saw Timmy McGibney's little brother, Michael, running up to me. He seemed upset.

“Hey, dude!” I said. “Are you playing in this tournament?”

“I was, but this bratty kid over there said I can't play!”

“What bratty kid?”

Michael didn't answer. Instead, he took my hand and walked me over to the table, where a scrawny little kid was running around with the air hockey paddles, yelling, “Who thinks they can beat me? Who thinks they can beat me?”

I tapped him on the shoulder. “I think I can beat you.”

The kid looked up at me and laughed. “Forget it, Grandpa.”

“What did you just call me?”

“How old are you?” the kid said.

“Old enough that you should be afraid of me, and not calling me Grandpa!”

The kid didn't look scared at all. “Whatever,” he said.

“Wow, I like this kid's nerve,” Megan said.

“Reminds me of someone,” Katie said.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I said, but Katie just smiled.

Michael tapped me on the shoulder. “His name is Gerald, and he's the best air hockey player in our grade,” he whispered.

“Oh, is that right?” I said, turning back to Gerald. “Well kid, it looks like you're about to get schooled by Grandpa.”

Gerald blinked. “Wait, you really want to play me?”

“That's right.”

He blinked faster. “That's not allowed. You're not in sixth grade. Unless you've stayed back, like, sixteen times.”

I leaned over until my face was about four inches from his. “Watch it.”

By now, a bunch of other kids had gathered around to see what was going on. Mr. Radonski came running over. “What's all this about?”

I pointed at Gerald. “It's about this little twerp here, thinking he can bully my little buddy Michael off the air hockey table, and calling me Grandpa.” I grabbed one of the air hockey paddles out of Gerald's hands. “So now we're going to play a quick game.”

Mr. Radonski shook his head. “Now hold on a second, Charlie Joe, you're a little bit too old—”

“Will everyone stop worrying about how old I am?” I snapped. Mr. Radonski looked a little shocked, so I took a deep breath. “Besides, it's my birthday. One quick game?”

“Fine.” Mr. Radonski clapped his hands together. “Okay, listen up, we're going to put the tournament on hold for a minute while Gerald and Charlie Joe duke it out. First one to five wins.”

Pretty much everyone at Jookie's was watching us by this point, and believe it or not, I started to feel a few butterflies in my stomach.
You're going against a sixth grader!
I said to myself.
Relax!

I took a deep breath and we started playing. Two seconds into the game, I knew where his confidence came from. Thirty seconds later, I was losing, 2-0.

“Wassup, Grandpa?” Gerald crowed. “Lost your reflexes over the years?”

His classmates started a chant: “Gerald! Gerald! Gerald!” But I managed to block his next five shots, score on a couple of my specialty ricochet bouncers, and win the next three points.

“I was Jookie's air hockey tournament champion two years in a row,” I told my pint-sized opponent.

“Whoop-dee-doo,” he said.

“Man, I can't believe what a wise guy this kid is,” I told Megan.

“I can,” she said. “I've lived with one most of my life.”

Soon, it was 4-4.

“Next point wins!” hollered Mr. Radonski.

I was just about to serve when Katie elbowed me in the ribs.

“Maybe, uh, go a little easy on him,” she said.

I couldn't believe my ears. “Are you crazy? This little brat thinks he's God's gift to air hockey! I need to finish him off right here and now.”

Katie rolled her eyes. It was her go-to move, and it got me every time. “Just … remember that he's a little kid,” she said. “And you're not.”

“So what? This is war!”

I served, and we bashed the little puck back and forth. Gerald smacked a laser that was headed right for the goal, but somehow I managed to make the save at the last second. Meanwhile I was firing away, but his incredibly quick reflexes made it seem like he knew what I was going to do before I did it. I had to admit—the kid was good. Very good.

Finally, after an incredibly long rally, I had an opening. Empty net! I could have totally smacked home the game-winner, but for some reason, I let up on the shot just a tiny bit. Maybe Katie's voice was in my head. In any case, it was all Gerald needed. He saved my shot, then ripped one of his own right past me, into my net.

Mr. Radonksi blew his whistle for three deafening seconds. “That's the game!” he announced. “Gerald wins!” He threw a Jookie's hat at me. “Nice try, kid. Here's a consolation prize.”

Gerald threw his hands up in the air in a champion's pose, while all his little sixth grade friends piled on top of him. The kids were laughing, and screaming, and pounding him on the back—even little Michael McGibney, that traitor. I felt like a giant Great Dane, staring down at his playful puppies. It looked like they were having the best time ever, and part of me wished I was right in the middle of it.

“Jeez, it's like he just won the World Series of air hockey,” Megan said.

“He did,” I answered.

After a minute or so, Gerald came up to me. “You got owned!” he said, strutting around in circles like a half-crazed peacock.

I was about to talk smack back to him, but I decided to be the bigger man. “I guess I did,” I said. Then I put out my hand. “Good game.”

Gerald looked suspicious for a second, but then he shook it. “Good game to you, too. See you around.”

“Not here you won't,” I said. “It turns out I'm too old for this place.”

“Oh,” said Gerald. “Bummer for you.”

He was right about that. “Yeah, bummer for me.”

Katie came up to us and grabbed Gerald's shoulders. “Kid, I got one piece of advice for you as you head into middle school,” she said.

Gerald looked at her. “What's that?”

“Don't be a jerk.” Then she nodded her head in my direction. “We already got enough of those in this town,” she said.

 

10

2:40 pm

“Guess what?” Megan said,
as we walked to the car after the Great Jookie's Air-hockey Extravaganza.

Katie and I looked at her. “What?” I said.

Megan giggled. “Now it's
my
turn to say where we're going.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “We need to go home. I have to get ready!”

“Nope,” said Megan, shaking her head. “We've still got a little time. And I promised Willy I'd meet him at Rogers Field to watch his brother pitch.”

“Now?” Willy was Megan's boyfriend, and a really nice guy and everything, but I had to be at the awards ceremony in under an hour and a half.

“Yup, now,” said Megan. “It's the playoffs. I can't not go.”

“It's fine,” Katie told me. “We'll only stay like forty-five minutes. We can walk the dogs while Megan hangs out with Willy.”

“I'll buy you a frozen Milky Way,” Megan told me. “It's your birthday, though, so this is the one day of the year you can overrule me, if you want to.”

I scratched Moose on the back of the ear. “I don't know.” The thing is, I had mixed feelings about Rogers Field. It was the sight of some of my happiest Little League memories, but it was also where I saw Jake Katz make the catch that turned him into a hero, which was how I got the idea to set him up with Hannah, which ended up being the decision that changed everything.

Anyway, I hadn't been back to Rogers Field for two years.

I was about to say no … but then I remembered how Willy had helped me out a while back, when I had my one-day dog-walking business. He helped me drive all the dogs to the lake, and didn't mind at all that they slobbered and drooled all over his beloved Jeep. Willy was a good guy. And it seemed like he was really nice to my sister, and she liked him a lot.

“Okay,” I said. “For a little while, I guess.”

On the way there, I clipped the dogs' leashes back on, which made their tails start going a mile a minute. Leashes meant getting out of the car! Leashes meant taking a walk! To me, leashes meant two sore shoulders, but for them, leashes meant happiness.

But that was nothing. As soon as Moose and Coco saw us pull up to the baseball field, their happiness turned into complete and utter joy. Even though they hadn't been there in a long time, they could still taste all the half-eaten hot dog buns that had fallen off the bleachers, and the melted ice cream that had fallen out of cones.

“Arf! Woof! Arf!” they said. Which basically meant, “Get us out of this freakin' car before we hurt somebody!”