Beyond the Point(2)
The little boy had started to cry. He looked back over his shoulder at his classmates, who were busy running after Private Murphy and Sergeant Willis. Willis and Murphy were terrible at soccer, bobbling around with the ball, holding their M16s to the side so they wouldn’t swing around their backs. The children were laughing. It had turned into a game of chase.
“Look,” Hannah continued. “See?”
When he turned back to look at her, the little boy’s eyes narrowed with hate. Before she could move out of his way, a loogie of spit flew out of his mouth and landed on the shoulder of her uniform. Then he wiped his mouth, ran across the schoolyard to his classmates, and put his hands in the air. The boy was yelling. He pointed back toward Hannah, then at the soldiers, at the sky. Everyone froze, watching the veins in the boy’s neck pulse. Wetness spread across his cheeks as deep guttural screams flooded out of his throat.
Slowly rising from the ground, Hannah put her helmet back on her head and had a dismal thought.
How were they supposed to win the war if they couldn’t even give away a gift?
INBOX (7)
* * *
From: Avery Adams <[email protected]> Date: November 16, 2006 5:36 PM EST
To: Dani McNalley <[email protected]> Subject: hi
I just heard. call me.
From: Wendy Bennett <[email protected]> Date: November 16, 2006 6:24 PM EST
To: Dani McNalley <[email protected]> Subject: Hannah
D, we just heard. Please let us know when the funeral is set. We will be there.
We love you.
From: Locke Coleman <[email protected]> Date: November 16, 2006 02:59 AM EST
To: Dani McNalley <[email protected]> Subject: r u ok
this is so fucked up. r u ok?
From: Eric Jenkins <[email protected]> Date: November 16, 2006 5:58 PM EST
To: Dani McNalley <[email protected]> Subject: My deepest sympathy Dani,
I’m not sure if you remember me, but I was Class of ’03 at West Point, and Tim and I were both on the parachuting team. I’m stationed at Fort Bragg and my wife and I live right down the street from them. I got your e-mail address from Avery Adams.
We’ve decided to stay here through Thanksgiving. I just wanted to let you know that everyone here is in shock. They were an incredible couple. Again, I am so sorry for your loss. It’s a loss for all of us.
Eric B. Jenkins
Captain, US Army
82nd Airborne Division
From: Sarah Goodrich <[email protected]> Date: November 17, 2006 1:26 AM HST
To: Dani McNalley <[email protected]>, Avery Adams <[email protected]> Subject::-(
I can’t believe this is happening. Has anyone heard from Hannah’s family?
From: Avery Adams <[email protected]> Date: November 17, 2006 4:37 AM EST
To: Dani McNalley <[email protected]> Subject: re: re: re: **hi
I have a key to the house. Tim gave it to me before he deployed.
From: Laura Klein <[email protected]> Date: November 20, 2006 05:59 AM GMT
To: Dani McNalley <[email protected]> Subject: Bereavement Leave
Technically, you only get two weeks of bereavement leave. But that’s only for immediately family members. You should check with HR.
Can you resend me your latest draft of the insights deck? I can’t find it in my inbox.
Also, for future reference, if you need to leave a meeting, please say so. We have processes in place for emergencies.
I’m sorry to hear about your friend.
LK
Before
Senior Year of High School
Winter 2000
1
Winter 2000 // Columbus, Ohio
From the beginning, Dani McNalley wanted to be known for more than basketball.
Her father had introduced her to the sport in the driveway when she was three years old, teaching her the mechanics of dribbling and switching hands and dodging defenders. She’d grown used to the feeling of thirty thousand little bumps under her fingertips and the hollow sound of the ball hitting pavement. Over the years, she’d advanced from the driveway to club teams, from club teams to a travel squad, and from the travel squad to the roster of the top point guards in America. College scouts had written Dani McNalley’s name on their recruiting lists as early as her thirteenth birthday. That she would play NCAA Division I ball was a foregone conclusion—everyone said it was her destiny. What they didn’t know was that while athletics was a big part of her life, it certainly wasn’t her whole life.
That’s why, on a cold February morning of her senior year in high school, Dani didn’t feel nervous at all. What was there to be nervous about? She’d get up, go to school, go to practice, and then come home. Sure, there would be news crews, photographers, and a dotted line to sign. But once she announced what she’d decided, the story wasn’t going to be about basketball. Not anymore.
Her small-minded suburban town of Columbus, Ohio, had tried to put her into a box. After she’d earned a near-perfect score on the PSAT, a reporter from the Columbus Dispatch named Mikey Termini had arrived at her house with a camera and a recording device. He’d only asked her about basketball, and the photo that ran in the cover story was of her shooting baskets in her driveway. He’d buried the fact that she was a National Merit Scholarship finalist below a list of her basketball accolades, and when she’d tried to take him inside to talk, he’d stopped her and said, “I can’t take a picture of you doing calculus. People want to see you play.”