Finishing Kick by Paul Duffau

Author:Paul Duffau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: girls in sports, sports, couming of age, washington state, humor, strong female protagonist, inspirational story, running, running book, success stories, cross country, racing, carl hiaasen, high school sports
Publisher: Cruiser Publications, LLC
Published: 2013-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Paula Johnson said when Callie, alone in the house except for the dog, answered the chime of the doorbell. She stood there holding a white envelope while the warm sunlight streamed around her into the open doorway.

“Um, no,” said Callie to Mark’s mother. She looked over her shoulder. “My folks aren’t home, though.”

“Actually, I was hoping to speak with you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Mark took off this morning with his uncle Bennie for the Bay Area.”

“I thought he was leaving next week,” Callie said. A hollowness built in her stomach.

“He changed his plans. Bennie rolled into town last night and talked him into leaving early,” Mrs. Johnson said.

Callie grew aware that she was squeezing the doorknob. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m being rude. Would you like to come in?” She opened the door wider and stepped back to the side. Paula Johnson walked in, and together, they moved to the sofa in the living room. Mrs. Johnson sat on the far end, facing Callie, letter held in her hands in her lap.

“He left early? Because of what happened at school?” Callie asked, searching the woman’s eyes. “I didn’t . . . it didn’t end good.”

“It wasn’t school or the zombie,” she said, “and it wasn’t because you yelled at him.” Callie twitched and Mrs. Johnson clarified. “He told me about getting chewed out by you. It upset him—he doesn’t have many people he considers friends. I’m glad he heard it from someone other than me. Moms don’t get listened to like pretty little ladies.”

Callie stared at her. “Kemosabe called me that.”

“I know. Mark was jealous he hadn’t thought of it.” She paused. “English was always a second language for him. I think he thinks in math. Bill—Kemosabe—made quite an impression on Mark.”

“Bill?”

Mrs. Johnson smiled. “Kemosabe is not really a hobo.” She hesitated and then rephrased her statement. “He is a hobo, he’s just not a full-time hobo.”

“How can you be a part-time hobo?”

“When you’re a full-time English professor at a university in Iowa.”

“He’s a professor?” Too many new ideas were coming at Callie and she was struggling to get them organized. Mark gone. Kemosabe was a guy named Bill. An English professor. She remembered her Shakespeare challenge and blushed.

“He was on sabbatical and studying hobo literature and language before the last of them fade away,” Mrs. Johnson said. “How do people put it now? He was . . . living large.”

Callie sat there, a little stunned, trying to process the new information.

“Mark asked me to give this to you.” Mrs. Johnson was holding out the white envelope and Callie saw her name written in blue pen in Mark’s sloppy handwriting. She took it from Mark’s mom and, fumbling, opened it to find several handwritten pages.

She looked up to the woman.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Mrs. Johnson sighed. “I’m not sure I do either, Callie.

“If you like,” offered Mrs. Johnson, pointing to the pages in Callie’s hand, “I can wait while you read it. I think you might have some questions.

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