That one little extra rebound changed the entire flow of the game from that point on. The Celtics scored more than they should have, and the Pistons scored fewer. In the end, some chaos theory-induced series of events caused the Celtics to barely claim victory in a game they were not supposed to win.
This was upsetting to Pete, who had bet a couple thousand dollars on the game. “What the hell?!” he yelled at Arnesto the next day after school.
The results were even more upsetting to Arnesto, who had bet the same amount. “I don’t know!” Arnesto yelled back.
“You told me,” Pete said, gritting his teeth, “that the Pistons sweep the series.”
“They — they did!”
“Obviously, they didn’t!”
“I don’t understand. I clearly remember them winning all three games. As a Celtics fan, I would remember something like that.”
“Arnesto, are you sure it was this particular series? This season?”
“Well — yeah. Something’s wrong. One of us must have… changed history. Did you drive over Isiah Thomas on the way home from school today?”
“I don’t think so. Fuck. How can we ever bet on anything ever again?”
“Pete, I’m sure this was an isolated incident. I hope. The Pistons are still favored to win. I’m still going to bet on them.”
“Not me. I’m out.”
Learning Shortcuts
Shopping Mall
Thursday, June 29, 1989
Afternoon
At last, they were in the home stretch. It was the summer after junior year and senior year was coming. Pete was excited, not to be going back to class but to be that much closer to the freedom of college.
“Are you looking forward to Mr. Hinkley’s physics class?” he asked Arnesto as they browsed the video game selection at Babbage’s. “I get the feeling it’s going to be hands down our most interesting class this year.”
“I’m… not taking it.”
“What? You told me you were, C period, like me.”
“Pete, I have to tell you something. I got accepted to State Commonwealth University of Massachusetts. Early entrance.”
“What?! I mean, congratulations. When are you going?”
“September,” Arnesto said.
“This September?! I guess it would have to be. What about high school? Are you not going to finish?” Arnesto shook his head. “Jesus H. Christ. So you’re done? You’re not going back ever?!” Pete asked. Again, Arnesto shook his head. “Well, I knew high school wasn’t your favorite thing, but I didn’t know you hated it that much.”
Arnesto gave Pete a quick head jerk to indicate they should walk out into the mall where they could expect a little more privacy. “It’s not that exactly,” Arnesto explained. “Pete, you have to understand. You’ve had three years of high school. I’ve had seven. Seven years at that place. I’m ready to get my life rolling. I’m also eager to meet my wife.”
“Your wife?!”
“Technically, my first wife. We had many great years together, and I can’t wait to see her again.”
“I guess I can understand that. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t want to tell you until it happened. I just got in finally.”
“And your parents are alright with this?” Pete asked. Arnesto winced. “You didn’t. They don’t know? Are you kidding me! Wait, they must have had to sign something.”
“The process does require a parent’s signature, yes,” Arnesto confirmed. Pete stared at him in disbelief.
“You forged their signature?! Oh ho ho, you are in deep shit, buddy boy. There’s no way you can pull this off. What’s going to happen when, oh I don’t know, you don’t come home from school?” Pete was incredulous.
They paused by the top of the escalator outside Waldenbooks at the far end of the mall and looked around.
Arnesto shook his head. “She’s not here.” They went down a level then started walking back toward the main entrance. Arnesto resumed their conversation. “I have a plan,” he said, smiling.
“Here we go,” Pete said, not hiding his sarcasm.
“My parents are splitting up. I mean, not yet, but right before the start of senior year, assuming I haven’t mucked up the timeline. But judging by their increasing animosity toward each other, I feel pretty confident it will still happen. My dad’s going to move out. I figure after they announce it to me and my brother, that’s when I can swoop in and be like, ‘Hey, I have some good news. I’m also moving out because I got accepted to college early. Yay!’”
“Your parents are getting divorced? Wow, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No biggie,” Arnesto said. Pete gave him a look, the kind of look a person gives their friend who’s revealed his parents are getting divorced and then says, “No biggie.” Seeing Pete’s face, Arnesto felt compelled to explain, “They weren’t meant to stay together. They each marry someone better for them and even make amends down the road. It all works out in the end. Now, what do you think of my plan?”
“It’s atrocious. You’re kind of hitting them while they’re down,” Pete said, feeling a couple of loops behind on this emotional roller coaster Arnesto was making him ride.
“Hitting them with good news,” Arnesto corrected.
“Won’t they miss you?”
“No. They might think they will. Or maybe not. We aren’t getting along well at this point, and we definitely won’t next year.”
“Well,” Pete said, “this sounds like the dumbest plan ever made, but knowing you, you might actually make it work. It’s not like they can kick you out of the house, that’s what you want for crying out loud. You know, I kind of want to see if you can pull it off.”
“Thanks,” Arnesto said, beaming.
“And I am sorry about your folks.”
“No biggie.”
Sunday, September 3, 1989
Late Evening
Arnesto grew restless as he listened to the heated argument coming from upstairs. Come on, let’s get this over with, he thought. He was dying to know if his plan was going to work. What would he do if it didn’t, go back to his high school and say, “Hey, my stupid parents wouldn’t let me go to college early, can you give me some classes?” He shuddered at the thought.
Could he pretend to still go to high school while secretly attending college? He’d have to make that long commute back and forth almost every day. As he contemplated the logistics, he heard his parents’ bedroom door open.
“Kids, come upstairs!” Arnesto’s mom shouted.
Oh boy, here we go. Arnesto exhaled and headed toward the stairs. At the top, he met his bratty little brother Gerald, who had just come from his bedroom down the hall, and followed him into their parents’ bedroom. His mom, Nancy, was sitting on the bed with a tissue in her face, distraught and crying, while Arnesto’s father, Karl, packed a suitcase. The tension was palpable.
“Well? Tell them!” Nancy shook her tissue at Karl.
“I’m moving out.”
“Tell them why!”
“Your mother and I have been fighting for a while and finally realized we’re not compatible anymore.” Gerald started crying and ran to his mother who held him. This left Arnesto as the only one without anything to do except stand there looking and feeling awkward.
“It’s okay, Gerald,” his mom said through tears of her own.
“I’ll still be around,” Karl said, “I’ve rented an apartment a few miles down the road. Look, nobody’s hurt. It’s not like anybody has cancer.”