Hemingway Tradition Read Online Free Page B

Bank of Canada?”
    I laughed. It was so easy to rile Tess, sometimes I just couldn’t resist. “Gotcha!” I said. Then I nodded toward the exit where my mom was standing.
    Tess looked and waved, and my mom waved back.
    â€œThanks for the offer, Tess,” I said, “but I can’t tonight. I already have a date with another one of my fans.”
    Tess pretended to be miffed. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it, I’ll just have to feature some other lucky guy in my article. Have fun on your date.” Then she waved at my mom again and took off across the gym in Jai’s direction.
    â€œExciting game,” Mom said as we walked out to the car. “I was on the edge of my seatthe whole match.” She wiped imaginary sweat from her forehead. “It’s tough being a mother. I think I get as much of a workout as you do. My shoulders are still tight.”
    I held out my hand for the keys. “Then you better let me drive. We wouldn’t want to have an accident.”
    Mom and I rehashed the game the whole way home — reliving the big kills and great plays, and agonizing over lost points and questionable calls. We were still on the subject long after we walked into our apartment.
    â€œI am really glad I joined this team,” I said, flopping down onto the couch. “The guys are great, and Mr. Hudson is a fantastic coach. I’m learning a lot. And I don’t even mind the practices — not completely anyway.”
    Mom laughed. “Well, it certainly looks like they’re paying off. The way you smash that ball, I sure as heck wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.”
    I shrugged. “If we don’t hammer it down the opposition’s throat, they’ll pound it down ours. I just wish I could do it more consistently.”
    â€œYou will,” Mom said with the total confidence of someone who doesn’t actually have to do the deed.
    â€œBut you know,” I leaned back and put my feet up on the coffee table, “as much as I love to whale on that ball, I like blocking it even better. It’s like I’m a brick wall or a force field or something. When the ball bounces off my arms and back at the hitter, I feel so pumped I swear I could jump right over that net. I just want to … ” I noticed a faraway look take over my mom’s face.
    â€œEarth to Mom,” I said.
    Her eyes focused again. She gave her head a shake as if to clear it.
    Then she said, “Did you know your dad used to play volleyball?”
    I didn’t answer. It had been a good evening. Why did Mom have to spoil it by bringing up Dad?
    She kept on talking.
    â€œOf course you know he played volleyball. You’ve heard his stories almost as many times as I have. The point is, blocking was his favorite part of the game too. He described the adrenaline rush he got from it exactly the same way you described it. He said he felt like he was going to fly over the net.” She paused and waited for me to say something.
    I didn’t.
    So she started up again. “Don’t you think that’s interesting?”
    â€œYeah, real interesting,” I muttered, suddenly wanting out of the conversation. I pushed myself off the couch and headed for my room. “G’night.”
    â€œShaw?” Mom called after me. “What’s the matter?”
    I didn’t stop.
    â€œNothing,” I said. “I’m just tired. G’night.”
    I knew it wasn’t fair walking out on Mom like that. I also knew my dad wasn’t going to clear out of my life just because I refused totalk about him. What I didn’t know was that Mom knew all that too.
    Not five minutes after I shut my bedroom door, she was knocking on it.
    â€œShaw,” she said, “may I come in? I have something you might be interested in.”
    My jaw tightened. I didn’t want a repeat of the other night’s yelling