Samuel stepped over, anticipating a gag of some variety. The team quickly bunched around Devon, who said, “Say, look, Sooley, we know it’s been a rough summer for you, and we know today is special. Since you can’t be home to celebrate, we figured we’d do it here.”
A wall of bodies opened and Coach Lonnie Britt stepped forward with a large birthday cake, complete with candles and the words “Happy Birthday Sooley” scrawled in maroon and gray, the team colors. Like an amateur choir director, Devon waved his hands and the team sang a boisterous rendition of “Happy Birthday,” most of them deliberately bellowing off-key.
Samuel was stunned and speechless. Devon said, “We’re glad you’re here, Sooley. We know you’re playing the wrong sport, but we love our basketball players. Most of them anyway.”
Coach Britt handed the cake to Devon and hugged Samuel, the kid with the big smile and very sad eyes.
* * *
·?·?·
Beatrice and her little gang spent the third night on the ground but under a large military-style tent with a hundred others. After two meals that day, the hunger pangs were subsiding and the children were coming to life. The future was bleak and the past too painful to dwell on, but maybe the worst was behind them.
As she huddled with James and Chol and waited for them to drift away, she knew it was the middle of August. Samuel was turning eighteen, somewhere, and she prayed for his safety.
CHAPTER 20
The following Saturday, the team had a light practice in the morning and was released for the rest of the day. Samuel and the three other equipment managers finished the laundry and cleaned the locker room. He left the field house and returned to his dorm to find someone else moving in. It was Murray Walker, his new best friend. They said hello and shook hands and sat on their beds.
Coach Britt had given Samuel the name of his roommate and said he would call. Samuel, living online when he wasn’t working, had checked out the kid and knew he was a rising sophomore who had averaged only five minutes a game during his freshman season. Five minutes, two points, one rebound—the slimmest production of all thirteen players. He was six feet tall, had walked on, survived the cuts, and made the team.
“What’s all this?” Murray asked, nodding at the wall covered with maps and notes.
“It’s a mess, isn’t it? I’ll be happy to take it down.”
“No, that’s okay. Coach told me that you’re from South Sudan, in Africa.”
“What else did Coach tell you about me?”
Murray smiled and shrugged. “Well, he said you’ve been through a lot lately, I guess. I’m real sorry.”
Samuel rose and stepped to the wall. “I’m from a village near the city of Rumbek, in central South Sudan. The village is gone now, and my mother is somewhere there.” He pointed at the wall as if he had no idea where she was. “I’m hoping my brothers and sister are with her.”
“Refugees?”
“Something like that. My father was murdered by rebel troops last month.”
“Oh man, I’m real sorry.”
“Thanks. It’s been pretty bad.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
“The website says you’re from here, Durham.”
“That’s right. Born here.”
“Why’d you pick Central?”
“Because nobody else wanted me. I wasn’t exactly heavily recruited. Coach Britt invited me to walk on and I made the cut. My parents went to school here so I’ve always pulled for Central.”
“Your family’s here?”
“Yep. Ten minutes away. My Mom’s a lawyer and my Dad runs a food bank.”
“What’s a food bank?”
“It’s a nonprofit charity that collects food and gives it away to folks who’re hungry.”
Samuel sat down on his bed and looked oddly at Murray. “Hungry people around here?”
“Lots of them.”
“You’re not kidding?”
“I’m dead serious, man. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but here in the land of plenty there are a lot of poor people. You want to go see some? I need to make a delivery.”
“Not really. I saw enough back home.”
“Let’s get a burger and I’ll show you around. My truck is loaded with food for a pantry.”
“You have a truck?”
“It’s a hand-me-down but it works.”
“What’s a pantry?”
“Come on, I’ll show you. My Dad asked me to make a delivery.”