Chapter 9 Preview

The first draft is done! So if my proofreaders can get to it today, I should be able to post tonight. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this cute flashback :)

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Sammy

Luke and I met almost 10 years ago. We had both signed up for a little league baseball team. Right away I noticed him. His long hair that covered his eyes. How quiet he was. How he seemed to have his head in the clouds. I was fascinated by him. Who was this guy? Why is he just standing there? Why is he so quiet?

A lot of guys know me as Mr. Popular who is friends with everyone. And that’s true, I like meeting new people. But what they don’t know is that I have to cultivate it. Being a brown kid in the whitest of white suburbia means you have to be extra special to fit in. Sammy the friendly guy, the smart guy, the team player, charismatic, liked by adults and peers alike. So when I saw Luke, the desire to get to know him was partially based on me wanting to get on everyone’s good side, but there was also this undercurrent, this connection, that just drew me to him.

I jogged over to the outfield where he was standing. Right now we were just playing catch so Coach could teach us the fundamentals of the game. I noticed that he was using one of the mitts Coach had brought - he didn’t have his own. Ammi and Abah, on the other hand, bought me a brand new glove as soon as I showed the tiniest of interest in baseball. I guess they thought it would make me more American and fit in better.

“Hi! I’m Sameer,” I said, extending my hand. Abah always taught me to be polite.

Luke looked at me, scrunching his cute face in confusion. “Sameer?” he asked, clearly unfamiliar with my name.

“Uh, yeah. Sameer. My parents are from Pakistan,” I said, feeling defensive already. I’ve gotten teased by the other boys for my name before. For the weird-smelling food I bring for lunch. All because I’m the brown kid in this blindingly white town.

Luke scrunched his face even more. “Pakistan? What’s that?” Instead of mockery, I heard genuine curiosity in his voice. But he’d never heard of Pakistan?

“Is that when you put a guy named Stan in a suitcase?”

I was stunned at the wild conclusion this kid had jumped to. “No. It’s a country. It’s north of India.”

“Oh. I’ve heard of India,” Luke said, then went back to staring into space. He looked back at me. “I’m Luke. My name’s not as cool as yours, though.”

I balked at this kid. He thought my name was cool, not weird? It was honestly the first time someone had called it cool.

“Really? I kinda don’t like it. Makes me stand out too much. I wish I had some kind of nickname that wasn’t so… foreign.”

Luke suddenly squinted his eyes, making the hardest thinking face I’d ever seen. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, expecting smoke to come out of his ears like in a cartoon.

“I got it!” He suddenly said, “Sammy! That’s a good nickname, dontcha think?” Luke looked over at me, expectant. His enthusiasm, and the fact that he was clearly so proud of himself for thinking of that name, gave me butterflies in my stomach.