Miss Nurse Calls the Shots

"Franklin, if you make yourself throw up in my office again, I promise, I will not be calling your grandmother for you. I saw you eating that fourth hot dog in the cafeteria and scarfing down that third carton of milk." The school nurse is used to me visiting her after lunch. I read the sign she has on her wall. It's a quote from someone named Jessica Brody. It says, "perseverance and effort count more than talent, and pushing through challenges makes the victory worthwhile."

I flop down onto the cot and dramatically let one arm fall off it, dragging my knuckles on the floor. Rolling my eyes back, I look in her direction to find her smiling and shaking her head. She swivels in her roller chair and turns back to the papers she has been shuffling on her desk. Ah, Miss Nurse, she knows me so well. I'm in her office on a pretty regular basis. If we have a test and I forgot to study, I'm here. If we have a game and I'm just not feeling it, you know I'm going to be here. Like today, because the idea of playing basketball after eating all that is filling my heart with dread.

"A kid needs his rest before an important game, you know. I mean, it's a lot of pressure." She crosses her arms and stares me down. She knows my grandpa is Bernard Riley, who is famous in these parts. He was a star basketball player for the University of Tennessee Volunteers back in his day, so everyone expects me to follow in his footsteps and be great. I'm what my grandmother likes to call husky. Translated that means slow. Which means my name kind of suits me. My mom was a big fan of this cartoon turtle named Franklin. She always liked the name, I guess. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I enjoy playing basketball, and I'm actually pretty good at it. I can shoot; I even like to shoot. I just don't like to run.

"So, what are you saying Franklin? You just came down here to get some rest? You know the game is at one o'clock. You don't have much time before they'll be calling you to the gym."

I dry heave a few more times for good measure, but it's been too long since lunch. "It's no use," I say. "I got nothing." I roll over and pick up a book from the table beside the cot. I've been reading a page in it each time I come. It's called Oliver Twist. "The kid in this story has it even worse than me." I tell her. My mom works a lot since my dad left and I spend a lot of time at my grandmother's house. Ever since grandpa died, she hasn't been the same. She used to make nice food and play Uno and Battleship with me. Now she just smokes cigarettes and stares at Facebook all day. Miss Nurse didn't believe me until one day she called and got my grandma's voicemail. The message literally said, " I can't come to the phone right now because I'm on Facebook. I might have stopped long enough to take a smoke break, but I'll be right back on." The look on Miss Nurse's face as she hung up the call was priceless. She understands where I'm coming from now. My mom works hard, but she almost never misses a game. She says she was Grandpa's biggest fan and now she's my biggest fan. I'm pretty lucky about that at least.

"Come on," says Miss Nurse, in her kind voice. "I'm going to walk up to the gym with you. They've asked me to be a backup player for the Students vs. Teachers game, just in case they need a spare player."

I come to a dead stop in the hallway. Miss Nurse is locking her door with her jangling set of a bazillion keys. "You?" I raise my eyebrows, "You, play basketball against us?" I repeat and we stare at each other frozen for a minute before I double over laughing so hard I can't breathe. Miss Nurse is old, like fifty or something.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything, Miss Nurse, but I've seen you playing with Jett when he comes over. Jett could beat the shorts off us probably, but you know you can't play, right?" Jett is Miss Nurse's grandson, and he has been playing all kinds of ball since he was big enough to walk. He takes after his dad apparently.

"He's been teaching me," Nurse says, with a shrug and a smile. "Besides, I'm sure I won't even be needed. They have plenty of teachers who have played sports in the past that love to compete. I'm mostly on standby in case anyone gets hurts." She raises her black and green canvas tote that she carries her nursing supplies in. "See, I have plenty of ice packs, and my pockets are filled with bandages." She means the tote pockets. It's bulging with various rolls of wraps, scissors, even popsicle sticks for making splints for fingers.

It's a good thing we came early before the rest of the team. "We could practice while we wait," I tell Nurse. It's kind of nice to get a minute to myself before the entire school fills the gym. I take a big deep breath and smell the cheap plastic scent of the mat on the gym wall. As I glide across the polished wood, I hear the familiar squeak of my shoes. I run my fingertips over the rough little bumps of the basketball. I feel the weight of it in my hands, and it fits just right. As I dribble past Miss Nurse, "I tell her I really do get a nervous stomach before games. It kind of weirds me out when everyone is staring at me. Sometimes, I'm not sure if I like it."

"I get that," she says. "That's how it was for me with piano recitals. I took lessons for nine years and never did get comfortable with playing a piano in front of a crowd. But I did it anyway, and I'm glad I did because my mom liked watching me play piano, just like your mom likes watching you play basketball."

I thought about what she was saying and realized that when I do something good out there, and the crowd is cheering me on, and saying my name, I love how it feels. It makes me wish I could look at my mom in the stands and yell; hey mom watch me, but then I know she already is. She isn't one of those moms who is on her phone or busy going to the concession stand. She is one hundred percent keeping her eyes on me. I shake my head as Miss Nurse tries to run with the ball and dribble at the same time. I bet she doesn't even know the rules of the game. I consider quizzing her on it just to psych her out.

Soon enough the gym fills with kids and teachers. How hard can this be to beat a bunch of old guys. The game gets going and wow am I in for a surprise. These teachers are playing hard. They're giving it their all. Sweat is pouring off their foreheads and they're breathing hard. Their big feet pound the gym floor, and it seems like their shoes squeak twice as loud as ours as they pivot and zip around. Mr. Monton, the principal passes it to Mrs. Goody the gym teacher and she runs hard and fast, leaps into the air, toes pointed and strong arms shooting, she scores again and again, but so do we my friend, so do we! It is good that Miss Nurse is here. I just hope she doesn't have to call 911 and bring the AED if one of these teachers has a heart attack on us. Mr. Monton has the ball again and he dunks. He actually dunks it. Mr. Clifford clearly doesn't want to be outdone. He charges from out of nowhere and steals the ball. He is barreling down the court and almost collides with Mick, our least coordinated player. Mick stumbles to the ground in front of Mr. Clifford, and I see it happening like it was on a slow-motion screen. The teacher flies over Mick and into the wall head on. If he had hit just two inches to his left all would have been well, but he missed the mat and his wrist made contact with a sturdy cinderblock wall. The crunch of bone, the look of agony, it was almost too much for the Elementary school cheerleaders to handle seeing. One of them put on a better 'almost vomiting' act than mine.

Miss Nurse is called over to help. She has Mr. Clifford's arm in a splint in no time. Using a Sams splint and some Coban wrap, she sets the wrist securely until he can get to the ER. Miss Nurse tosses an ice pack to Mrs. Brown, who volunteered to drive Mr. Clifford to the hospital. It's all happening so fast. The next thing I know Miss Nurse is in the game. She looks like a deer in the headlights. She obviously doesn't have a clue what to do out here. The boys' basketball team is a well-oiled machine. We are bringing our A game today! I almost feel sorry for my old pal Nursey. I might only be eleven, but I'm as tall as she is. When I see the ball heading her direction, I move to guard her. We stare into each other's eyes as she dribbles then moves the ball up into her right hand to shoot. No way I'm letting her get the ball in. One good jump and I will swat that ball from her hands like it was a pesky mosquito. I jump and smack! "What?" The ball doesn't budge. She used her other hand to brace the ball as it lay balanced on her right palm. Before I can get in another jump, she does the oddest thing. She lands the ball in the net with perfect execution. I mean, it's like she has been doing this all her life. It's like she was made to swoosh. "That was a three pointer," I say flatly. The buzzer sounds. "You got in the game winning shot."

"I know," she says. "That's what the chalk was for.

"Chalk? What chalk?"

" The chalk lines on the pavement in front of my house. Jett drew a blue circle for the three-point zone to teach me."

"Umm, cool." ...Cool? It's weird saying cool to Miss Nurse, but her grandson is pretty cool, and apparently, he is an awesome teacher.

"You should stop and shoot some hoops with Jett next time you and your grandmother are in the neighborhood."

"Really?" I ask, feeling the need to explain why we are in her neighborhood sometimes. "Once a month my grandma drives over to meet up with that mobile dog grooming van. We usually just go and park in the dollar store parking lot to wait for about an hour while her poodle gets a shampoo and trim. Spa day, she calls it."

"I'll check with your grandmother to see when the next spa day is and let her know she can bring you to play with Jett if he is going to be there that day. You know Franklin, it's ok to like both basketball and books," she says. She takes the little copy of Oliver Twist from her supply bag and hands it to me.

"Yeah, well I guess you ought to know," I tell her. Miss Nurse must like books a lot because she keeps her office filled with them and doesn't mind sharing. Now it seems she likes basketball too. Who knew? I shrug my shoulders and thank her for the book. "Now maybe I can finally finish this thing!"

"And you don't even have to throw up to get to read it. Imagine that." Miss Nurse has that twinkle in her eyes that she gets when she knows that I know that she knows.