A Brighter Tomorrow: My Journey with Julie

From our hiding place, we watch the man turn the basketball around in his hands, then disappear back inside. I whisper that we need to find the boys. Otherwise, the man will think we’re making up a story to avoid 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 even have to do anything. The man has no way of knowing it was us. He’s right. If nobody saw us, we could walk away and lose nothing but 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 counters that 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, thinking about what this means. I imagine the man has already called the police, reporting that a J. Albright damaged his property.

Julie says we have to go back. T.J. puts his hand on her shoulder and adds 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.

The man 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.