A Brighter Tomorrow: My Journey with Julie

From our hiding place, we watch the man turn the basketball around in his hands as if looking for a clue. Then he disappears back inside his house. I whisper that we need to find the boys. Without them, the man will think we’re just making up a story to avoid getting in trouble.

We take off up the stairs. When we reach the top, we look around for Stinger and T.J., but they’ve vanished. We’re starting to walk back to the park when we hear a psst from behind us and T.J. steps out of a store alcove, holding the basketball. He asks if we’re okay. Julie crosses her arms and says that we’re fine, but they shouldn’t have left us alone.

T.J. looks at his shoes and says that he’s sorry. When he realized that we weren’t behind him, he tried to convince Stinger to come back and find us but he wouldn’t do it. He just ran off.

I ask what we should do. T.J. looks up and asks if we have to do anything. I mean, how would the man even know it was us? I know he’s right. If nobody saw us, we could just walk away and no one would know anything. The only thing we’d lose is a basketball.

Julie seems to consider this before she takes a breath and says that this is Stinger’s ball. So her ball is the one that broke the window. I remind her that it wasn’t her fault. It was Stinger’s. Julie says it doesn’t matter whose fault it was. Her ball has her name on it. J. ALBRIGHT in big, black letters. This accident has her name written all over it. So if anyone will be getting in trouble, it’s her.

We all fall silent as we think about what this means. I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I replay the image of the man examining the basketball. Surely he’s already called the police by now, reporting that a J. Albright damaged his property.

Julie says we have to go back. T.J. puts his hand on her shoulder and says that we’ll come with. We’re just as much to blame as she is. We slowly make our way down the stairs and pause in front of the red and white cottage, not saying a word. I give Julie’s hand a squeeze and reassure her that we’re doing the right thing. Arm-in-arm, we march up to the front door and ring the doorbell.

The dogs start to bark. The man opens the door. He’s frowning. Three dogs are jumping and yapping and pawing at the screen door. He tells us that he’s guessing one of us is J. Albright. Julie swallows and steps forward. He asks her if she can explain why there’s a basketball in his living room. Julie, T.J., and I take turns telling the story, being careful not to leave anything out.