

Five on the Other Side

Phil Wohl

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Phil Wohl

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1

It was the battle for a town on the verge of being literally torn in two. The baby boom had pushed administrators to draw the line on the town of Meadow Brook, Long Island. It was 1970 and the town's only high school was overwhelmed with the influx of teenage residents, at least that what was on the table in a smoke-filled back room at the Heavenly Bodies gentleman's club at the edge of town.

Town Supervisor Frank Palumbo was running out of chips and had just slipped a five-dollar bill into the G-string of a stripper giving him a full-contact lap dance. He took a $50 bill out of the breast pocket of his white dress shirt and waved it in front of the young lady's eyes, gaining her attention like she was a fish focused on a wriggling worm. She slithered off his lap and he cocked his right hand and smacked her bare ass just enough to make it red. She reached for the fifty and he pulled it away like the neighborhood bully and said, "You come back and take care of me later."

She nodded with a grin and swiped the $50 bill with the enthusiasm of a child grabbing her favorite piece of candy.

"Don't make me look for you," he said trying to keep the wild child in line as she exited the room.

It was time for Frank to focus. He had set the poker game up in order to get to the point where he could finally bet on something of substance – something he could actually sink his teeth into.

"I'm running out of chips," Frank said trying to lure the amateurs into his betting web.

Meadow Brook High School Principal Charles Bruegen has been winning all night and Superintendent Gerry O'Brien wasn't far behind. The other two guys at the table were "associates" of Palumbo and were helping him guide the game elsewhere.

O'Brien had been hitting the sauce pretty hard when he exclaimed, "C'mon Frank, just a few more hands!"

Principal Bruegen got up to go to the bathroom and Palumbo made eye contact with another girl, who was foretold to "take care of" anyone he saw fit.

"I'll be right back," a slightly tipsy Bruegen said as he staggered toward the bathroom located beyond the room, "Don't start the next hand without me. I'm on fire!"

Janis McCauley, alias "Denver" for her mountains high, prowled behind Bruegen like an animal moving in for the kill. In the meantime, Palumbo motioned to the other two players at the poker table to "beat it," and then they proceeded to gently excuse themselves from the table.

"It looks like it's just you and me, you grease ball," O'Brien said with all of the anger and prejudice of an old-school superintendent.

Palumbo reached for the brass knuckles in his pocket, but decided instead to take his Irish friend for a different kind of painful ride. He knew that the town of Meadow Brook could ill-afford another high school to be built on the other side of town, but he had friends and they needed a fresh construction project.

Palumbo smiled as he put both hands on the table before replying, "Why don't we up the stakes a bit."

O'Brien was too polluted to realize he was staring a con man in the face and that any subsequent game would certainly be fixed against him. He smiled back, as if he was luring Palumbo into certain defeat, "What did you have in mind, Frank?"

"Remember Bruegen was complaining last month that the high school was becoming overcrowded?" Palumbo asked.

O'Brien had let go of any modicum of professional integrity when he stepped through the door of the club, "Yeah, whatever."

"So, I want to play to split the district up in half," Palumbo said sipping his water, which the other men thought was vodka on the rocks.

"Didn't we decide to expand the class sizes?" O'Brien countered.

Quick-draw Bruegen staggered out of the bathroom with his pants around his ankles.

"Let's play for the town!" he exclaimed.

"So, what are we playing for?" O'Brien inquired.

"If I lose, I'll match your annual salaries with cash right here, right now."

O'Brien was smiling and rubbing his hands together as Bruegen sat down without picking his pants up.

Palumbo continued, "But if I win, then we will split the town in half and build a new high school."

Bruegen looked at O'Brien, and then they both said to Palumbo, "Works for me."

Texas Hold 'em poker was a simple game, and it became even simpler for Palumbo to win with a stacked deck. Not only did he win the hand, he also decided to take back all of the chips of two men who barely knew what planet they were on.

He flipped the construction contract on the table and had the two men necessary to initiate the project, sign on the dotted line. O'Brien thought about standing up to Palumbo but two large men entered the room almost on cue and he decided to take the high road to preserving both his career and his health.

All Bruegen could say was, "Where is Dallas? I'm ready for round two."

Bruegen signed and then the two men escorted him to the back alley. "She's back here," one man said as they guided him to the street and then closed the door, "You freakin' retard." Although when he said it in his Brooklyn accent, there was no second 'r' pronounced in the word retard.

O'Brien on the other hand, wasn't as lucky. Palumbo and his human vises worked him over for a few minutes and then dumped his unconscious body in the back alley, where he slept it off until the sun came up a few hours later.

Palumbo and O'Brien shared a healthy kickback for the huge construction project but their windfall was short-lived. Ten years later they were jointly prosecuted for their participation in a massive money laundering scheme.

2

At the time of the north-south split, a surveyor made the break-up official when he divvied up the land to the tune of 4.32 square acres for the north and 4.31 square acres for the south. That tenth of-an-acre difference has been debated ever since, even though the south got a brand new high school out of the deal.

Somehow the school systems were an excellent blend of both white and blue collar neighborhoods. The bell-shaped demographic dispersion was a masterful blending of plumbers and lawyers on both sides of the Meadow Brook line. The new school was built quickly because the money was paid up front, thanks to a bond initiative approved by a rigged town vote. The eventual maturing of the bond years later almost caused the town to file for bankruptcy.

Normally, Rugeri Brothers Construction would have taken over two years to finish the job, but they slapped up the high school in only eight months. The building was opened for the 1972 school year, amid much fanfare and excitement. It has been one of the more "drafty" schools ever since, as the Rugeri Brothers drastically increased profit margins by cutting corners in every corner except the gymnasium and the athletic fields.

The early days of the split were fairly acrimonious, with the South Meadow Brook Lions and the North Meadow Brook Tigers coexisting without incident. School chums had been split in distance but the ties they forged could not be easily broken. So, athletic competitions between the schools tended to be rather subdued by high school standards.

There was the occasional lacrosse game or wrestling match that got a bit warm in the mid-1970s, but the schools tended to focus on their previous rivals instead of taking their teenage angst out on each other full force.

It wasn't until 1975 that the town separated its junior athletic development system. Boys started playing sports at age eight, with Little League Baseball being the common jumping-off point. This was well in advance of Title IX and the equality of girls' sports – so there really wasn't much of an opportunity for girls to participate in organized sports before they entered middle school.

The hopes of family happiness could rest on how 'little Johnny' played on a Saturday afternoon, being that dad was 'all in' managing the youngster's athletic career. Most 1970's generation fathers had fathers that basically worked themselves to death because they didn't know any other way. So there was no time to watch their son drive in the winning run on the street in the local stickball game. However, this breed of fathers was going to make a supreme effort to be there at every turn, especially on the weekends. Mom's were also given the essential task of keeping the budding star on track by making sure that the kid arrived on time for the games during the week – at least until dad's chariot screeched into the parking lot after dodging rush-hour traffic on the Long Island Expressway.

"You have to get me on the same team as Bruce, mom!" the high-pitched voice of David Lewis exclaimed.

Bruce Meyer was standing next to his buddy and was quick to back him up, "Yeah. Mrs. Lewis!"

Edna Lewis, a 35 year-old housewife – appeared middle-aged at the time – shook her head and replied, "I don't know what I can do boys? I'll talk to your father when he gets home, David."

Bruce looked at David and then at Mrs. Lewis before stating, "My dad says that you have the juice, Mrs. Lewis."

Kids often repeat what their parents say without knowing the true meaning behind the words. Mrs. Lewis looked shocked at first and then she smiled and laughed almost awkwardly, "Well, I'll see what I can squeeze out, boys. Why don't you go to the schoolyard and practice?"

It was 1971 and all David wanted to be was George Thomas Seaver, right-handed pitcher for the New York Mets, while his friend dreamt about flying around the bases like Roberto Clemente of the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Salisbury Woods Elementary School was around the corner from David's house and a few blocks from Bruce's house, which was on the other side of Salisbury Avenue. The "Avenue" was a fairly busy two-lane road that the boys had become adept at crossing with their bikes without incident.

Isaac Lewis was a city planner by day and a baseball team coach at all other times. Keep in mind, this was an area before faxes, e-mails and any other form of written communication that could potentially speed things up. Isaac knew the head of the farm baseball league because they had played softball together on Sunday for many years. He used his rotary phone at work to make the call.

"Mel Lipper," a strong, low-tone voice came through the line.

"Mel, its Isaac Lewis."

Lipper instantly brought his work guard down. "I-man! How have you been? Did you register 'Little I' for the farm league?"

It was an era when nicknames became all the rage.

"Well ML, that's why I'm calling. My kid and his best friend..."

Mel listened but only had one thing on his mind in return. "It's been awfully lonely on the left side of the infield since you stopped playing. I might be influenced if I see you standing on third base with your glove this weekend?"

Isaac was usually exhausted by Sunday, and he stopped playing in his mid-30's because kids starting getting in the way. David's younger sister had to be driven to one club even though it just seemed that she was just barely out of diapers.

"I'll do it if you put that catcher \- Vito Rialto's kid – on the team along with the two boys," Isaac said knowing that he would take some heat from his strung-out wife.

Mel whipped out the rosters of all of the farm league teams and penciled in the boys to David's team, while switching players to other teams.

"Done!" Mel proudly exclaimed. "See you Sunday at the usual field." And he hung up the black corded phone without another word, proving that Accountant Mel was all business.

3

It had been 30 years since the graduating class of 1981 roamed the hallways of North and South Meadow Brook High School. Reunions had been planned for over a year but the prolonged drain from the economy forced a consolidation of sorts, nearly 40 years to the day that the town was torn in two.

"This thing is costing way more than we had initially anticipated," North Meadow Brook reunion organizer Beth Lancer said to her South counterpart, Shari Giacome.

"We booked The Sands in Sound Beach and they just raised our fee by thirty percent. The guy said something about passing on the costs and helping them absorb the increases in gas prices and food costs."

Lancer asked, "Do you think your people would be against a Meadow Brook unified reunion, the way it was in the early days?"

Giacome thought for a moment, "I would agree to it under one absolute, unbreakable condition."

"What's that?" Lancer countered.

"We can't tell anyone!" she said emphatically. "Because if we do, it will be a disaster."

Lancer scratched her head, "Won't it be a disaster once everyone realizes what's going on?"

"Our mission is to make this as nice and as affordable as possible. I don't think we can do both," Giacome said on her way to skimming 20 percent off the top of the gate.

Lancer was on a similar wave-length because the mortgage was due, "Agreed," she stated on her way to a 15 percent take.

The North Meadow Brook basketball starting five had not seen each other since the 10th annual reunion. The 10 years had gone by quickly and the cohesive unit was really looking forward to seeing each other again. Of course, social networking sites made it easier for old friends to stay in touch.

It was a much more tenuous situation on the other side of town, however. Relationships had become rather strained among the starting five of the South Meadow Brook Basketball Team at about 9:15 p.m. on February 24, 1981. Losing was such a derisive element for this seemingly unbeatable team.

There was no 10-year reunion for Bruce Meyer. In fact, he barely acknowledged the invitation for his 20th reunion, but the last decade had been particularly rough for him.

Back in 1981, Bruce was living the dream. An injury to a starting player near the end of his junior season opened the door for him to help carry the team into the playoffs. The 6'2" lefty had spent much of the year in the weight room and now had a rock-hard 180-pound body to match his deft shooting touch.

When number 24 entered the school his senior year, he wasted no time conquering the first major social hurdle. The summer between his junior and senior years was spent at a local day camp that was stocked with a plethora of local female talent.

Bruce's 17-year dating resume was a bit thin on volume but it didn't lack in interest. He had been with three girls in high school and one in middle school. His relationships never lasted more than 62 days, unless you count the two stints with Simone Rogers in tenth grade.

His 'scoring' stats looked something like this:

Name Age 1B 2B 3B HR

Wendy Rappaport 14 4 2 0 0

Kelly Parker 15 6 4 2 0

Simone Rogers 15 10 7 4 1?

Kelly Burgess 16 12 9 7 5

The question mark was placed next to the statistical query on the Simone Rogers home run. "I was in there," Bruce said when asked by a group of friends at the lunch table one afternoon.

"What did it feel like?" then buddy and teammate Scott McPartland asked in order to get confirmation and officially score the event as a round-tripper.

Bruce tilted his head back and looked toward the sky for the answer. "It was slippery," he said, not realizing the significance of his statement.

Scott looked around, "And..."

"And..." Bruce said, not expecting to have to enhance his original account of excessive moistness.

Scott wanted more, "And, what else was going on down there?"

Bruce really needed the street cred, so he opened up like a steaming baking potato split in half by a sharp knife.

"Well, at first I was on top – you know – doing my thing, and then she jumped on me and..."

"And?" Gary Bellmore prodded.

"I shot my load."

Scott banged his fists on the table and exclaimed, "That's sex!"

Bruce received pats on the back and slapping fives from the crowd now gathered at the lunch table, where secrets and hugely fabricated tales were exchanged.

Meanwhile, across the cafeteria, Simone Burgess was giving her account of the supposed round-tripper.

"It wasn't bad for the first 20 minutes when we were fooling around. He's a good kisser. Then he pulled a condom out of his pocket from his pants, which were around his ankles," she said, slapping hands with any girl within reach.

Kelly Rogers was light-years ahead of this group, so she cut to the chase, "Was he packing?"

Novice Amanda Clemens walked right into the brick wall, "Packing what?"

The other five, 15 year-old girls broke out in laughter, prompting the guys at Bruce's table to look up and see what the ruckus was about.

Bruce knew Simone and the girls were talking about him, but he had already told his side of the story and there was no turning back.

Kelly loved the shock value of her often outrageous statements, so she motioned for Amanda to come toward her and then whispered in her ear.

Amanda turned bright red and then slid back to her place on the bench. The girls then turned their full attention back to Simone.

Simone swiveled her head toward Kelly and said, "Yeah, he's packing."

The girls looked at Bruce and then he turned red because he recognized the look of a pack of hungry wolves.

Simone continued, "At least for the first 15 to 20 seconds."

Everyone at the table exploded in laughter except Kelly Rogers, who had a smile of a different variety on her face. She thought to herself, "Little girls! They don't know that it takes a few times before a guy lasts longer. I can work with the speed. She looked at Bruce and said, "Time to pick up the package."

It took a few months to be able to access the package, because Simone first broke up with Bruce following the cafeteria incident. Then they got back together in the middle of their junior year, only to have him end the relationship a few weeks later in favor of Kelly.

He was becoming frustrated with his small role off the bench on the team before he got his big break. No promise of more sex with Simone could shake his anger about the team and Simone's public display of humiliation. Once she broke up with him, he was hell-bent to get back in there so he could return the favor.

In the window of a four-day period in January 1980, Bruce up-shifted from Simone and the basketball team's bench to Kelly and a spot on the starting five. His relationship with Kelly mirrored his play on the court: fast and furious. The couple omitted much of the awkward petting and pawing most teenagers go through in order to hopefully get to the next step. Once the season ended, however, Kelly gave Bruce his pink slip, leaving him feeling empty, and leaving her free to pursue various members of the lacrosse team.

4

It became clear once the guest list was compiled for the reunion that it would be the first time the 10 players from the neighboring basketball teams would be in the same location in over 30 years. There was no doubt that all five North Meadow Brook players would be in attendance, but the other side seemed to come together by a stroke of divine intervention.

As usual, the South Meadow Brook squad waited for its leader to make the first move. Bruce's last move a few years earlier was out of his dream house and into a small apartment. Old habits die hard – it wasn't easy for a 45 year-old man to leave a life he had basically built from the ground-up.

He had so many thoughts darting through his head leading up to the reunion, including reaching out to his old friend Dave Lewis. The impact of his solitary confinement was quite profound, with images and events of the past playing a key role.

David Lewis' life wasn't without incident, either, although he tended the keep the details of his life as close to the vest as possible. He, too, had moments when he wanted to contact Bruce, but he didn't want to cause his friend any more pain than he had inadvertently inflicted.

South Meadow Brook went into the February 24, 1981 showdown with North Meadow Brook with as much momentum as a runaway train. After two early-season losses, the team raffled off eight straight conference wins, including a four-point victory versus North at home. North also had two losses, but was coming off a convincing 21-point thumping of second-place Eastwich, vaulting them into the title game versus South.

It was the first time in the short eight-year history of the match-up that either team was in first place that late in the season, and it was the first time a Meadow Brook basketball team was playing for the Division I-A title since 1967.

The worn, 424-seat, North Meadow Brook High School gymnasium would be filled beyond capacity for this battle of the ages. There had been brief discussions about moving the game to a larger venue – say the 750-seat, South Meadow Brook high School gymnasium – but north coach Clarke refused to relinquish the team's decided home-court advantage. Any sane individual that had coached his team to a perfect 12-0 record at home would have acted accordingly.

Bruce Meyer started playing serious minutes too deep in his junior year to get much of a piece of David Lewis, who started every game in his junior year and was the team's leading scorer at 19 points per game. Lewis had grown steadily over the years and now was a good four inches taller than Meyer. But what Meyer lacked in size he made up with strength and partially-controlled rage.

The boys hooked up often at local Preston Park, and had to be restrained from fighting on several occasions in recent years. Bruce was always trying to get into laid-back David's head by playing physical and bending the rules, but David would have none of it.

Their full-court battles were both entertaining and nerve-racking for the crowd outside of the park's fence, which usually included both of their fathers and David's little sister, who tagged along because she had a never-ending crush on Bruce.

There were times when the action got so heated that the dad's had words:

"Why don't you talk to your son about playing so dirty?" 6'3" Isaac Lewis would say to 6'1" Oliver Meyer.

The elder Meyer, not Oscar Meyer, taught his son well in the art of cutting opponents down to size.

"You Lewis' are all soft!" Oliver yelled at Isaac and then got all soft with little Jackie, "Sorry to yell, little J," connoting a relationship in day's past.

It was only a handful of years prior that the two families were completely inseparable.

Just after Isaac called his friend, Mel Lipper, years earlier to ensure that Bruce and David would be on the same farm baseball team, the team had its first practice. A manager had not been appointed yet, but Isaac quickly took it upon himself to organize the boys to get things underway. He thought he was standing by himself studying the team's roster until his son tugged on the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Dad," David said.

"Not now, David," Isaac replied with his back to his son.

"Dad!" David said little louder and with a hint of whine as he tugged harder.

Isaac had his hand cocked, ready to smack his son upside his head if he bugged him again while he was trying to concentrate. Instead, he turned around and saw Oliver Meyer standings in front of him, David moving out of range.

"Oliver Meyer," he said as he extended his Popeye-like forearm.

Isaac shook his hand and immediately wished he had stronger hands. At first, Isaac wondered why this guy was introducing himself, but then he looked at David who said, "This is Bruce's dad."

The light went on in Isaac's head and he smiled.

"Thanks for getting the boys together on the same team," Oliver said.

Isaac replied, "I know this shortstop... it's a long story."

He looked over Oliver and said, "You look like a first-baseman. Are you available on Sunday mornings?"

They immediately became co-managers, as Oliver took the infielders and catchers and Isaac took the outfielders and pitchers. They also terrorized the Sunday morning softball league hitting behind Mel Lipper in the three and four holes, as Mel and Oliver usually set the table for the bog stick of Isaac Lewis to clear the bases.

The Lewis and Meyer families also vacationed together for three straight years – the women grew up in the same neighborhood in Brooklyn but were a few years apart with Edna Lewis being Joyce Meyer's elder.

The inflection point of the relationship came one early evening while the men stood around the barbecue in Isaac's backyard.

"What's the deal with this whacky splitting of the district? Oliver asked with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"I don't think it's going through," Isaac replied in words of defiance.

"What sense would that make anyway?" Oliver asked as they watched their sons throw a football back and forth.

"The schools are getting crowded..." just then, Edna Lewis opened the back door with Joyce Meyer closely trailing her. She waved the newspaper in anger and shrieked, "They're going to do it! Splitting the town into north and south!"

While the hamburgers cooked to perfection and the hot dogs got a little too much heat for your average weenie, Isaac read the article out loud. The crude map in the paper with the line through the middle of the town did little to detail the exact split and how it would impact the two families. It wasn't until two weeks before school started that year until the real truth came to light. David would be assigned to nearby Brushfield Junior High School and his buddy Bruce would be shipped across town to matriculate with the students of Parkway Junior High.

5

Word began trickling out about the joint 30th-year reunion – not to be confused with a gathering of marijuana cigarettes a few towns over – but that chatter was mostly contained. The people that were the real gossips had the most to lose if the reunion was cancelled. Beth Lancer and Shari Giacome seemed to be on Facebook 24/7 and quickly diffused any rumors with sound, rational rebuttals.

By sending the invitations out with only a month until the party, the late notice seemed to catch people off guard, or possibly it was just part of the advanced aging process that caused the impending co-mingling to largely unnoticed.

Most people from the graduating class of 1981 lived outside of Meadow Brook and were not as familiar with the new bar/nightclub in town called The Meadow Club, which was a cheaper venue than originally planned. This establishment was also known as da Vinci's Supper Club to the locals. So, Lancer sent out her invitations with The Meadow Club and Giacome with da Vinci's Supper Club with identical addresses: 119 Hilliard Turnpike.

The Hilliard Turnpike address must have sent most of the former town members into instant flashback mode. The huge thoroughfare was only a mile or so from North Meadow Brook High School, and it was also a destination that many of the South residents would have frequented because it was the unofficial town center.

While most cool town centers have quaint little shops and park-and-walk layouts, Meadow Brook's Hilliard Turnpike was a massive eight-line, bi-directional road. It was more of a park-and-shop destination filled with every big-box chain store cluttering up every town – that all look the same - in America. Growing up, such gems as Mr. Donut, Hardee's, and Mel's Discount World lined the street, only to be replaced with chains Dunkin' Donuts, McDonald's and Home Depot.

The 30th reunion was deemed a 'no spouse' affair for the South Meadow Brook team primarily because its captain, Bruce Meyer, had been through a painful divorce. Two of his teammates, Gary Bellmore and Trent Berkman, were also divorced and a fourth, Walter Thomas, had his wife pick up and return to Poland one day while he was at work. The fifth member of the starting team, Scott McPartland, was openly gay and had been living with his partner for 12 years.

Since the reunion was so close to North Meadow Brook High School, the north team decided to meet on their court to celebrate their years of success before joining their classmates. Restaurant owner, Chris Fowler, was responsible for bringing the libations and food, and David was going to bring a DVD – which he burned from the original VHS tape – so the team could watch their triumphant moment in the Meadow Brook moonlight. Also invited was their 64 year-old mentor, Coach Proctor, who had just retired from his administrator's job after 35 years, and the other three members of the starting five – Keith Oldham, Seth Conroy, and Billy Holland, who was David's best friend since he was 16.

It was a tough pill to swallow for both David and Bruce when they were 12. Relationships are often tested through the tween and teen years regardless of the relative distance between friends. Once Bruce was ripped out of Brushfield Junior High, which was five blocks north of the Meyer house, and he was forced to attend Parkway Junior High, which was five miles from their house, the bond between the boys began to wither from neglect.

Oliver Meyer did not go down without a fight, however. He ignited a groundswell of support, which started with a petition with hundreds of signatures, and ended with an emergency board meeting three days before school was scheduled to begin.

Before there was South and North, there was a town unified in the common cause of Meadow Brook solidarity. Long before there was the inter-town rivalry and "the game" in 1981, there was a meeting of which the outcome already appeared to be signed, sealed and delivered.

Town Supervisor Palumbo stood in Principal Bruegen's office and said to Superintendent O'Brien, "We have to nip this in the bud."

The men initially looked worried, but after talking it out for the better part of an hour they had concocted a sure-fire plan for what was setting up to be a quite hostile assembly.

It was the last day of August and summer was flexing its heat and humidity muscles for a final time. The 1958-built Meadow Brook High School was equipped to counter extreme cold, not extreme heat. There were only two locations in the school where air conditioning units were in operation: the main office and the janitor's room, and it was doubtful if 500 people could be jammed into either limited location. It was also doubtful whether the two in-window units could cool even the last two rows of the school's auditorium.

Two large fans were brought in to cool the area, but they were so loud that the speakers were only marginally effective. People started trickling into the front doors at 5:45 p.m. for the 7:00 p.m. town meeting. It would have been easy for Superintendent O'Brien to fire up his laptop and roll out a PowerPoint presentation, but sadly, the technology had not been invented and dispersed to the mainstream population yet. So he would have to rely on an overhead projector and a few large color charts that were picked up at the printer before they closed at 5:00 p.m.

The Meyer and Lewis families walked through the back door of the school because there was no parking available near the front. The two men and boys walked ahead of the ladies, so they made a quick trip into the gymnasium. They stopped just short of center court and Isaac put his arms around both boys.

"We're going to do our best to make sure you guys play together when you get here."

"We need to stay together," an emotional Oliver added.

"C'mon, we're gonna' be late!" an amped-up Joyce Meyer shrieked from the hallway, propelling the four males out of the dimly-lit gym.

Space was saved up front for the families to sit, being that they were instrumental in everyone being there in the first place. There was an audible buzz throughout a room where the acoustics were especially crisp.

Any military general will admit that if you gave them higher ground, they would have a distinct advantage in most battles. So, General Palumbo, Colonel O'Brien and Sergeant Bruegen walked onto the wooden stage, which was elevated a good five feet above the first row of the auditorium.

The three men walked toward the front middle of the stage to a raucous Bronx cheer, which is more commonly known as a chorus of boos. Even beloved Principal Bruegen, whose years of service to the community had been fondly appreciated, was dragged down into the black hole by his politically-infused counterparts. They sat in three plastic-backed chairs and seemed to be swallowed up by the massively-deep stage that was cut in half by a 60-foot, beige, floor-to-ceiling curtain.

Isaac nudged Oliver, who was sitting next to him, and said, "You're on."

Oliver reached over and grabbed his wife's hand for some added strength and then made – in what felt like an eternity—the long walk up to the five wooden stairs and onto the stage, where a silver microphone on a long metal stand was waiting for him.

As Oliver approached the microphone he thought about flipping off the panel of 'gentlemen' on the stage, but thought better of it because there were children in the audience. The crowd roared and arose in unison to give him a standing ovation for his tireless pursuit. He turned around and nodded at the men, which basically affirmed to them that they would be in the fight of their lives.

Two men on the stage were swayed by the volume of the angry mobs' cheers, but Frank Palumbo barely flinched, for he knew who was swinging the big club on this night.

Oliver gave a rousing, two-minute speech and ended with, "This is our town! These are our children! No line can ever tear us apart!" He looked down at his family and then at the Lewis family. They all teared up and then Oliver returned to his seat into a sea of hugs and kisses.

Palumbo concerns about Superintendent O'Brien were quickly confirmed. He had graphs and charts but the crowd was just too strong for him. Palumbo looked down the bench at Principal Bruegen after repeated shouts of "We want Bruegen!" bounced off the auditorium walls. Palumbo could see that Bruegen was reluctant, so he leaned over and said, "I think you should get up there and talk like your very survival depends on it."

Bruegen leaned back to see if Palumbo was kidding, but then a chill went down his spine when he realized that cold death was in Palumbo's eyes.

He stepped up to the mike after patting a battered O'Brien on the back. He put his arms up in the air to quiet the angry mob down – good thing he was wearing a dark suit jacket because the underarms of his dress shirt were sweat-stained from the heat and stress.

Bruegen stroked his full mustache, which usually meant he was formulating one of his great pearls of wisdom. Any conflict he had about selling these good people down the river were quickly banished by his desire to live.

He quickly eased into a public-speaking role that he was entirely familiar with, "It is my job as principal of your school to make sure that our students are educated, and that they can excel in a safe environment."

A man yelled from the back, "Are you with us, Mr. B?"

Bruegen slowed his roll for a moment and tried to see through the lights where the voice came from, "Who said that?" he said in his best authoritarian voice.

The man walked down toward the stage, "It's me, Mr. B, Kevin Watts."

Kevin Watts was one of Bruegen's first students as principal to graduate from Meadow Brook High School. He couldn't have planted a better person in the crowd himself. Bruegen looked back at Palumbo, who had a wicked smirk on his face. Palumbo then stood up and told O'Brien to take his chair with them as they walked off the stage.

Watts came on stage after being motioned to do so by Bruegen and the two men shook hands and then met in a brief hug. Watts was all of 26 years old, but he had moved back to the community with his wife and kids the previous year.

Bruegen took a mike in his hand and tilted another mike toward Watts, who was instructed to sit down. The placement created sort of a talk-show format for the two men to interact.

Bruegen looked out at the audience, "Kevin was one of my first students to graduate with honors." A few people clapped, "What are you doing now, Kevin?"

"I am an engineer for Grumman," he proudly replied. And a few more people clapped, signaling that the crowd was turning.

The principal beamed, "Are you married?"

Kevin replied, "Yes."

"Kids?"

"Two," Watts replied.

"Ages?" Bruegen questioned.

"Four and two."

Bruegen nodded toward Watts in approval and then turned toward the crowd, "By a show of hands – how many people here have more than two children under the age of 10? And if you're a child, also raise your hand."

The hands were raised—one by one—until there was a sea of respondents that enveloped the auditorium.

"You see, this is the tidal wave that will hit us if we don't do something about it now. Ladies and gentlemen, as much as I would love to guide all of your sons and daughters through this school, I'm afraid that we are about to be plowed over by a baby boom. Unless you want more than 30 children in each class, then I suggest we follow the plan that is already in place."

The crowd became subdued as if playing the part of the trained dog to the master.

Bruegen continued, "Don't see the move as a split into north and south, view it as a community that will be twice as strong!"

6

"That's not the way I heard the story!" an exasperated Gary Bellmore exclaimed.

"Bullshit!" Bruce said as he sipped his third beer in less than an hour. "I was there!"

Before the reunion the five South players agreed to meet at the bar, no matter where it was situated at the reunion. It would be fiction to say that the meeting was joyous upon initial contact, but the bond seemed to grow stronger with each sip of beer. These guys were so locked in and drinking that they failed to realize that the reunion was anything but copacetic.

However, other sober people walked in and steadily complained about the joint reunion with little impact. The bar was located in the front of the restaurant and the check-in table – replete with about six-hundred name tags – was just outside the main party room down a short hall from the bar.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away, the North Meadow Brook five were saying goodbye to their coach.

"You guys shouldn't drive, even if it is so close," Coach Proctor said.

They walked out through the back of the school much the way they had 30 years earlier, as conquering heroes.

"Pile into my Caddy, there's plenty of room," Proctor instructed and his players were quick to follow their leader.

"Fowler, you sit on Conroy's lap in the front," the coach barked as the big men, Lewis and Oldham, sandwiched shooting guard Holland in the back seat.

Chris Fowler, the team's point guard, was uncomfortable on the ride but was never at a loss for words, "You've been trying to get me on your lap for 30 years, 'Roy'."

Seth Conroy, the team's small forward, was generally quiet but was the wrong guy to mess with. The last time Fowler tried to embarrass Conroy was in eighth grade when a bunch of the guys were playing street hockey in the parking lot of Salisbury Elementary School.

The guys in the back of the car started laughing because they knew what was coming.

"You little bitch!" Conroy said in his assassin voice. "Didn't you learn the first time I fucked you up?"

The car was now a few-hundred feet from the destination, "Coach, stop the car and let me out!" a frantic and squirming Fowler screamed.

The coach pulled over to the side of the road and Conroy dumped Fowler out of the car and put his well-clothed butt on the curb. Conroy closed the door and the coach drove to the adjacent light and made a left turn into the parking lot.

They pulled in front of the restaurant and Conroy said, "Good thing he wasn't wearing that Ron Duguay jersey. I would have smacked the Ranger off his face again."

The guys busted Fowler's chops by not waiting for him to walk into the restaurant.

"You guys want to get a drink before we start the festivities?" Conroy asked taking the lead for a change.

David smiled, "Whatever you say 'Roy'."

They walked up to the right side of the rectangular-shaped, dark wood bar and David ordered five beers, knowing that the team's court general was close behind.

Directly across the bar, the South Meadow Brook five were about to make an incredible discovery, like they had all had instantly become Columbus.

"Oh man," Trent Berkman, the team's center and enforcer muttered.

Bruce picked up his head and scanned the crowd, "Do you think we'll see any talent tonight?"

Berkman nudged him and then guided his gaze with a nod across the bar.

"What the fuck?" Bruce fumed as his blood pressure shot up with every breath.

He walked to the other side of the bar and his teammates followed.

"What the fuck are you carpet-munching bitches doing here?" Bruce yelled at the North Meadow Brook four.

"Oh, hey Bruce," David calmly replied. "We're here for our reunion."

"Fuck if you are!" Bruce shot back as he carried the look of impending aggression.

Just then, Fowler and his big mouth walked in, "Oh, crap! What are they doing here?"

Both sides were ready for battle, just as they were on February 24, 1981. The legs and the body might betray athletes as they get older, but the mind always wants to compete.

It had been an especially difficult week for both Bruce and David leading up to the big game, because both of their fathers were quite antsy. Emotions were running so high in the town that there were fights in the parking lot between fans while waiting to get into the school for the 7:00 p.m. game.

The two teams almost started brawling before the referees walked onto the court, prompting the referees to bring the two coaches and captains to center court for a talking to.

"We're here to play basketball, gentlemen," John Casey said trying to enforce his power as an experienced referee. "Any nonsense other than shooting, passing, rebounding and running will not be tolerated." He looked at David and Bruce, "Mr. Lewis and Mr. Meyer, I'm counting on both of you to set the tone for your teams. Especially you, Mr. Meyer," Casey said as he looked at Bruce with the eyes of an educator that had circled the block a few times.

Bruce glared at David hinting that the warning was not one that was received with any effectiveness whatsoever.

The lead changed hands six times in the first quarter, and then another four times by halftime. The South Meadow Brook team went into the visitors' locker room, which happened to double as the girl's locker room, with a three-point lead.

Bruce was having his best game of the season and his timing could not have been better. Eighteen points and six rebounds easily bested David's 12-point, four-rebound effort. But the momentum of the game shifted once again as the two teams emerged for the second half.

David was in 'his house' and the guests had been a bit rude in the first 16 minutes of the game. By the end of the third quarter, North Meadow Brook gained what looked like a commanding seven-point advantage on the strength of David's ten-point outburst.

But, as soon as the North faithful was making after-game drinking plans, South came storming back and took a one-point lead with 20 seconds remaining in the game. Trent Berkman was fouled while dribbling near the top of the key and went to the line for a one-plus-one, which meant that if he made the first shot he would be rewarded with another – if not, only one shot would be taken.

Bruce and David were standing next to each other on the foul lane and Bruce was trying to kick a dog when it was down.

"Dave, your sister is looking good. Didn't think she would develop that nicely," Bruce said as he waved at Jackie Lewis, who looked behind her and then said, "Me?" when she realized he was looking at her. Jackie turned beet red and shyly waved back.

"Fuck you, Meyer. She's 14!"

Bruce was relentless, "I think I'm gonna' take her out after the game. Does she still like Chinese?" he said as the second free throw found the bottom of the net just as the first had. David boxed out Bruce hard, caught the ball after it came through the net, and then signaled for a time out.

Referee Casey said, "Easy boys."

Bruce slapped hands and celebrated with his teammates, and then looked back at David with the biggest 'fuck you grin' he could muster. David showed little emotion but nodded at Bruce that he understood that this rivalry was for real – not between their competitive fathers or a town split in half by greed, but between two old friends.

Coach Proctor devised a strategy that excluded a three-point shot, because the line did not exist in high school basketball back then.

"Okay, let's dump the ball into Dave, score fast, and then call a time out." The coach then looked at David, whose eyes were blazing with determination.

David looked around the huddle and then at his coach, "Work it down to six seconds and then throw me the ball." He paused for the effect and then stated, "I'll get three."

The coach thought about it for a split second and then responded, "All right! Get it in here. On three – one, two, three..."

And the 12 players yelled, "North!" as the five starters broke the huddle and walked to set up on the side of the court away from their bench. David liked to get the ball on the left block for turnaround jumpers, hooks, and fade-aways, although none of those shots were in the cards for this possession. So, he set up on the left block with the intention of receiving the ball just below the right block in the lane.

Bruce walked right down to where David was standing and lodged his right elbow into the small of David's back, applying just enough pressure to let him know he was there.

The South team was prepared for a quick shot and was surprised when the ball was passed to Chris Fowler and he stood near half-court and held the ball. The clock ticked down from 20 to 15, then to 12 seconds, as the North faithful were confused and started to get anxious.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" a cocky Bruce Meyer mocked David.

David smirked, "I wanted to get a good view of your mother. Didn't see much of her face when she was blowing me last night."

Although David was fond of Mrs. Meyer, in a non-cougar way, he knew Bruce would be easily persuaded to act when presented with the right stimuli. Instead of wasting his best material for the local park or the first matchup, David remained quiet for years until he waited for the right moment to exact his revenge.

It was Bruce that had destroyed their friendship, not the physical splitting of their lives. David had unsuccessfully tried on several occasions to get through to his friend, and then he was just confused by the hateful treatment. In his book, brothers were always brothers, no matter what they go through... unless it involves girlfriend stealing or other such nefarious activity.

The clock ticked down to six and Fowler made a quick move the left and then crossed-over the dribble while David nudged Bruce to free up some room to move through the paint. Fowler zipped a bounce pass in the lane to David, who caught the rock and then rose to the hoop in one motion.

A confused and angry Bruce trailed David as he went up. Coach Sherman of South Meadow Brook yelled, "No foul!" but Bruce took both hands and pushed David in the back as he used the extra four inches to rise up toward the rim.

Referee Casey saw the obvious push and blew his whistle as the ball caressed off the middle of the fiberglass backboard's white square and then gently tickled the twine.

Casey skipped a few steps to his left and raised his right first before demonstratively whipping it forward toward the ground and yelling, "Basket's good, and the foul!" before being drowned out by the thunderous applause of the home crowd.

David crashed to the floor and was mobbed by his other four teammates, who helped him to his feet. In the modern game, the foul by Bruce would have been flagrant – because he made no attempt to go for the ball – but David had to settle for a single, game-tying free throw in 1981.

Coach Sherman called a time-out to try to freeze David and make him think about the magnitude of his free throw. The disappointed South players did everything but yell at Bruce for his selfish act. Bruce wasn't so lucky with the North faithful, though. A chant of "Oscar Meyer" bounced off the aged gym as the cheerleaders took the floor for one more stirring rendition of "Go, Fight, Win!"

After the two-minute time-out, the buzzer sounded and David walked to the foul line as the crowd cheered and the visitors jeered. He dribbled the leather ball three times, like he always did, and then calmly sank the free throw. The score was tied at 66 with two seconds left; South was out of time-outs, so Bruce rifled the ball with a baseball pass to half-court and then Walter Thomas heaved a shot that sailed to the right and came up short of the basket.

As the North Meadow Brook five raced back to their bench before the five-minute overtime period, Coach Proctor wondered to himself, "What else does this kid have up his sleeve?"

The overtime period was a continuation of the first four quarters, with the lead changing hand three times in the first four minutes. North was up one when Bruce banked in a 17-footer from the right side. Then David caught the ball on the left block and banked in an eight-foot turn-around jumper over Bruce.

Thirty seconds remained when South worked the clock down to eight seconds before Bruce drove past David and hit an impossible reverse lay-up. Four seconds glowed brightly in red on the digital scoreboard, and victory was once again within South's reach.

Coach Sherman was about to pull the four remaining hairs from his head, because his star player had once again 'gone off the reservation' by ignoring his pleas. In regulation, the "Whatever you do don't foul!" directive was quickly forgotten and then before his eyes, his star player ignored the "Start your move with four or five seconds" request.

Four seconds was an eternity in basketball, especially when the other team had a shooter that could light it up from the parking lot.

Billy Holland and David had often thrown a football around and would need that familiar interaction for the last play. Holland was handed the ball by referee Casey who said, "You can run the baseline. The ball is in play!" and blew his whistle.

The other North players scurried around like mice that knew where they were going in a maze. David started on his customary left block and then ran toward Billy and half-court, until Seth Conroy and Keith Oldham stepped up and set a crushing double-pick on Bruce. Bruce managed to absorb the blow from the brick wall by grabbing a hold of David's jersey and running along for the ride. David curled toward the right sideline and Bruce was now a few steps behind.

Holland ran to his right to shake his harasser and then planted his feet, cocked his arm, and fired a bullet pass to his intended receiver. David caught the pass about neck-high, took one dribble to his right to gather himself, as the crowd held its breath and rose to its feet. The clocked ticked down to two seconds as he jumped in the air - some 27 feet from the hoop \- cocked his right arm toward the front of his head, and the flicked the shot as he and Bruce crashed to the floor from the momentum of the pass route.

The ball floated through the air as the action seemed to be moving in super-slo-motion. There were only two people in the gym that had the vantage point to see what everyone else couldn't. Referee Casey first made sure that David got the shot off in time, then he smirked as the ball floated toward the goal. Billy Holland spent many hours shooting baskets with David over the years, and could tell when the ball left his friend's hands if a shot was true. He raised his firsts in the air and started galloping in celebration a few moments before the crowd erupted and David was swarmed on the floor of the court.

The town picked David off the floor, but his old friend was left to pick himself up after a career-high 32 points and 16-rebound effort that people would only remember that he blew the game.

7

After the game, a somber Bruce took an extra-long hot shower in the locker room and made sure he was the last person out of the surprisingly pleasant-smelling room. Team 'mascot' Harold Pulaski was in the hallway waiting for him with his customary greeting. Harold was autistic in the days when they called anyone with a severe learning disability mentally retarded. He was 42 years old and was a life-long Meadow Brook resident that attended all Meadow Brook basketball's home games.

Although Bruce wasn't in the mood, he always had plenty of cheer for Harold, who would ask for an autograph after every home game.

"Hey, Harold," Bruce said as he approached the stocky, balding man with a navy blue "Meadow Brook Basketball" jacket with his name "Harold" sewn in gold script on the front left breast.

Harold handed Bruce a pen and said, "Sign near your name," like he always did with a game program.

"Thirty-two points and 16 rebounds. Career highs!" Harold proudly exclaimed.

Bruce finished signing his name and #24, and an excited Harold said, "Give me five!" So Bruce gently slapped his hand.

"On the other side!" Harold said as he flipped his hand over and Bruce lightly tapped it.

The Harold's truth-telling continued, "Bad foul and you shot too soon."

Bruce was exhausted and said, "What?"

"Bad foul and shot too soon," Harold repeated.

Bruce would have walked away from anyone else, but he said, "Maybe next time."

And Harold replied as he flipped his hand over, "On the other side."

A few minutes later, David emerged from the locker room after an extended celebration with his teammates. Harold was all excited and bypassed any unnecessary chit-chat.

"Give me five, champion!"

And David slapped Harold's hand a little harder than Bruce, but just as hard as Harold wanted.

"On the other side, champion!" Harold yelled.

And this time, David was much gentler on the softer, knuckle-up side of Harold's hairy hand.

David took the pen from Harold and signed his name and the number 44, and wrote, "Division I-A Champions!"

Harold loved that and was in heaven for a moment until his brain quickly switched gears.

"I wish you could both be champions," he said, almost as if he was talking to himself.

"Both? Who else are you talking about, Harold?"

Harold shot right back, "You and Bruce Meyer. Number 24 of the South Meadow Brook Lions. "

"Bruce?" David questioned.

"You guys won championships," Harold explained.

It took David a few seconds but he flashed back to a time when he and Bruce terrorized the local Police Boys Club Basketball League. Their team won back-to-back championships and didn't lose a game in the process. He then flashed on Sam Pulaski, the commissioner of the league, and his son Harold, who was the team's de-facto assistant coach.

"Holy shit! How could I forget?" David intensely mumbled out loud.

"Curse word! Bad word!" Harold exclaimed and then placed his hands over his ears.

David put his hands up and apologized, but still had to wait at least 10 seconds for Harold to uncover his ears.

"Do you think you can do it?" Harold asked.

"Do what?"

"Win again. Together."

David knew a straight 'no' or 'yes' answer would lead to more questions, so he stated, "If the town never split apart, we would have been champions together."

Harold's usually uncontrollable face turned into a steady, almost-demonic grin, "On the other side," he said and then walked away from David without another word and out of the back door of the school, leaving David to shake his euphoric head.

Back at the bar I present day, things were about to get ugly until one of the few uninvited Meadow Brook guests walked into the first bar of his 72-year life.

Bruce looked at David and David asked, "Is that Harold?"

He was wearing the same Meadow Brook Basketball jacket and had only a few gray hairs left on his round head. Harold walked up to his two favorite players and exclaimed, "Give me five!" and he extended both hands and the guys lightly slapped his palms, as the other eight ex-players chuckled in the background.

The cylinders started clicking in David's mind as Harold said, "On the other side."

The guys lightly slapped the knuckle side of Harold's hand as David said, "Oh, shit!"

The guys got sucked into a vortex of colors and lights as they heard Harold yell, "Curse word! Bad word!"

The completion of the ritual propelled the guys backward through life, as each man viewed and experienced the major milestones in their lives since they were split up.

David saw one joyous event after another flash by his eyes and then the one event in his life he wished he could have back – he never got to say goodbye to his father because they weren't talking when he died.

Bruce's relationship with his dad went downhill after the big game, but they managed to remain on life support when his dad was actually was taken off life support shortly after his divorced was finalized.

Events flashed through their senses like they were being uploaded to a brain in need of a memory update. The ride picked up speed until they virtually crashed into a wall of darkness. Then a flash of light hit their eyes like they were being reborn. The next thing they knew, they were standing on a familiar court and Isaac Lewis had his arms around them.

"We're going to do our best to make sure you guys play together when you get here."

"We need to stay together," an emotional Oliver Meyer added.

"C'mon, we're gonna' be late!" an amped-up Joyce Meyer shrieked from the hallway, propelling the men out of the dimly-lit gym but the boys stayed behind on the court.

"You guy's coming?" Mr. Lewis said to the boys.

David looked at Bruce and he fumbled for an answer, "We'll be there in a minute. Save us seats."

Bruce rubbed his eyes and shook his head to try to shake whatever cob-webs that were causing him to have a flashback. He patted himself down and looked over at David, "How did we get to be small again?"

"I don't know? I didn't ask to be 'small'!"

"What is going on here? Is this the day of that emergency meeting?" Bruce asked.

"I think so," David replied. "Well, we've been brought back to this day for a reason, so we should try to make the best of it."

Bruce was still furious at David, "That's easy for you to say! You didn't fuck up the biggest game of your life!"

David was fed up with his friend's belly-aching, "Would you shut the fuck up with that stupid game already!"

The two Tweens standing there cursing at each other like adults was quite a scene.

"What are you talking about? Weren't you just watching the game in this gym with your North buddies?" an outraged Bruce countered.

David smiled, "Yeah, you should have seen the look on your face when I told you that your mother was blowing me."

Their moods turned rosier when Bruce's mother – the alleged falatio artist - stormed into the gym and yelled, "Are you coming?"

Bruce turned to David and asked, "Well are you?"

They both cracked up and ran toward Mrs. Meyer, who was now a good four steps ahead of them going toward the auditorium.

Bruce said, "Hey man, we have to get to Principal Bruegen. I heard they got to him and made him turn against us.

David replied, "But it won't change what will happen, because they will kill him if he resists." He then stopped and thought for a second, "We don't have to change the outcome, what we have to do is move that line over a few blocks."

"We could change it in the computer... I'm pretty decent at hacking into things," Bruce said and then realized where he was.

They both said, "No computers."

David said, "I have an idea."

Bruce and David signaled for their dads to come over near the left, front exit of the auditorium and they obliged.

"What's up boys? This isn't really a good time," Isaac Lewis stated.

David pulled it out of his butt, "We just heard Palumbo talking..." and Bruce continued, "and he said that the split will go through no matter what is said tonight."

David nodded to Bruce in thanks for picking him up, as the fathers talked about what they should do.

"I also heard him say that there is toxic waste on the South property where they want to build the new school."

Bruce looked at David and nodded, "Good one!"

The fathers were so nervous that they didn't really notice their sons displaying advanced maturity for their age. Each boy might have looked young, but in reality they were more than 10 years older than their fathers and had more life experience.

"I say you corner Palumbo and squeeze his balls?" Bruce said, not realizing his place.

"What did you say?" an amped-up Oliver Meyer asked his son.

David interjected, "What Bruce meant is that there might be a way to keep us together after all."

Isaac and Oliver cornered Palumbo back stage, as their sons waited and listened in the shadows.

Palumbo had limited patience at first, "This is not the appropriate time to have a conversation. This is why we scheduled this meeting, so you people can air your grievances."

"Yeah, that's fine, but can you step over here into my office for a moment," Oliver said.

Palumbo looked over at Principal Bruegen and Superintendent O'Brien and said, "Give me a minute."

The three men went into the vacant hallway and Palumbo was irritated, "So what is this about gentlemen. Time is money."

Oliver went right for the jugular, "We have information that details the toxic waste at the new South High School site."

Palumbo was a born poker player and showed no emotion in his face or eyes, "Who told you that lie?"

Isaac Lewis said, "That's not important. What is important is that my friend is about to go out there and blow the lid off this thing."

Palumbo never backed down, "Are you threatening me? Because if you are threatening me, then I will have no recourse other than to release all hell on you."

"No, no, we are just coming to you with information," Oliver stated.

Palumbo knew the shake-down game better than anyone, "So, what do you want?"

Isaac and Oliver did not think about what it is they wanted other than to have their families stay together, so Oliver said "Excuse me for just one second" and raced quickly to locate the boys.

Meanwhile, Isaac stood with Palumbo as he waited awkwardly for Oliver to return.

The boys were eavesdropping down the hallway and were surprised to see Oliver, who said, "I'm not sure why I'm asking you guys, but you seem to know what's going on here. What is it that we want?"

"We want to stay together," Bruce said.

"I know that, but how are we going to do it without getting killed?" Oliver asked.

The light bulb glowed over David's head, "Have them move the line two blocks."

It sounded too simple at first to carry any more weight than a strand of pasta, but it quickly made sense to Oliver and Bruce.

"Thanks boys," Oliver said and then raced back to give Palumbo the solution.

"Where did you go?" Isaac said as he leaned over to Oliver.

Oliver replied, "I had to check something."

"So, do you have an answer? What do you want?" Palumbo repeated.

"We want you to move the line between north and south over two blocks, so our kids can stay together."

Isaac almost jumped out of his clothes at first, but he quickly came to like the idea.

Palumbo replied after letting the idea wash over him for a few seconds, "So, all you want in return for your discreetness is for me to move the line a few blocks?"

Oliver looked at Isaac, who nodded in agreement, "Yes."

"And if word gets about the South site, then I can hunt you and your family down?"

The two men weren't sure how to reply to such a barbaric question, but they looked at Palumbo's dead-serious expression and said, "Yes."

"Good. Then I'll hook you up with the surveyor tomorrow and you can reposition that line."

Palumbo didn't care just as long as the South High School was staying where it was and the construction company could not be implicated in building on a cheap property full of toxic waste – a common trick they utilized to expand profit margins.

Palumbo then helped Oliver's street cred, "Hey, you should give the same speech you were planning to do."

Oliver didn't see the need, but wasn't going to disagree with a powerful man such as Frank Palumbo.

The men walked toward and the stage and were met by Bruegen and O'Brien, "Let's put on a good show, gentlemen."

The next day, Oliver and Isaac went to the surveyor's office and they worked on a map of the town for all of five minutes. After all, the surveyor was also 'on the payroll'.

He said, "The new north/south split will be 51 percent south and 49 north with square acreage of 4.4 and 4.2 miles for each."

"Deal!" Oliver exclaimed, as the men shook the surveyor's hand.

Since only a small area of land was impacted by the change, Bruce and Isaac hand-delivered the new/old assignments to the mailboxes, delighted the parents and children without making them aware that they had anything to do with it. The one thing they didn't want was publicity, because that would surely have triggered questions that they wouldn't dare answer.

8

"Dude, we have to talk," David said to Bruce while they were playing Ping-Pong in Bruce's basement.

Twelve year-old Bruce replied, "Let me win this point and then I'll get us a couple of beers."

The little white ball floated toward Bruce's side, bounced off the green table, and then he swung mightily with his left arm and smashed the ball with his red-faced paddle to the other side of the table past David.

"I could never beat you at Ping-Pong," an exasperated David said as he tossed his blue-faced paddle on the table.

"Yeah, but you always got the best of me when we played tennis," Bruce replied.

"I'm better now than I was as a teen," David stated with the view of a forty-something.

"I'm sure you are," Bruce said in his most sarcastic voice. "Put the TV on, and I'll go get us a couple of beers."

It was the days just before cable television had penetrated every household, so David found the bulky clicker and turned the faux would-trimmed television on. He then wrestled with the antenna on top of the TV to get a clear picture.

David heard Bruce galloping down the stairs and said in a frustrated tone, "There are like five or six channels on this thing and only NBC and ABC come in clearly."

Bruce sat down on the couch facing the TV and said, "Put on channel 11."

So, David clicked on the huge channel button on the remote until suitable afternoon programming was found. He took a seat on the coach and Bruce handed him a beer and said, "Good health," and they clanked beers.

"Now we're talking!" David said as a familiar show flashed on the screen.

"Is that... Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse?" Bruce exclaimed.

"It is!" David replied as he took a swig of beer. "Ahhh! This beer tastes awful!"

Bruce took a swig and said, "Yeah, so does mine!"

They took another less-generous sip and David concocted a theory, "It's either old beer, or we're 12 years old and our taste buds have not been educated yet?"

"When did you have your first beer?" Bruce asked.

"16. You?"

"15," Bruce replied.

"See all the shit we missed doing together!" David said angrily.

"Are you saying that was my fault?" Bruce said in an indignant tone.

"Are you serious?" David stated rhetorically.

Bruce's mood shifted quickly, as the beer rocketed through his 5'2" frame.

"You know, we are going to get hammered," Bruce chuckled.

David forgot why he was mad and said, "I haven't been buzzed in so long. All of that wine is bullshit!"

Bruce looked at David and said, "What happened to us, Dave?"

"So, you get all sensitive when you drink?" David countered.

"You know I love you," Bruce slurred as he chugged and finished his first beer. He then staggered up the stairs and weaved toward the fridge.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" David said, not realizing that his friend had flown the coup.

Bruce swiped two more Bud bottles from the fridge and instinctively ducked as he descended into the basement. At 12 years old, he was far from his full height of 6'2" but his still-mature head was telling him that the obstacle was a lot closer than it appeared.

The boys drained the second beers and Bruce staggered up the stairs to get another beer, but passed out on the basement stairs mid-way. An hour later, Edna Lewis entered the house through the garage, which was one level up from the basement on the den level.

"Bruce, I'm home!" Edna yelled and then she saw the lights on in the basement. She took two steps down and then noticed a body spread all over the carpeted stairs.

"Oh my god!" she yelled as she dropped her packages on raced down the stairs.

9

Time accelerated five years into the future, and the boys were now young men and in their junior year of high school. Bruce was sleeping soundly and was awoken by the buzzer on his alarm, which confused him because he was usually inclined to set the alarm to wake him musically.

"What the..." Bruce grunted and then was going to follow it up with a pointed curse word, but he stumbled over a pair of sneakers he didn't anticipate on the floor. He staggered out of his room and into the hallway where he almost bumped into this father in the dark hallway.

"Easy there, champ!" Oliver Meyer said as he tried to slow his son's roll.

"Hope you're a little more under control at tonight's game," he added.

"Dad?" Bruce said in a surprised tone as he moved over and embraced his father.

Oliver hugged back briefly and said, "While I appreciate the affection, Bruce, I really have to get to work."

The two men said goodbye and then Bruce walked into the bathroom and flicked on a light, which nearly blinded him before he shut it off, closed the door and then reacquainted himself with the bathroom he knew during his formidable years. He located the cushioned, espresso brown toilet seat cover and then lifted it in preparation to lighten his liquid load. But time had dulled his memory of the cushioned toilet seat that would never stay in the upright position.

The light thud of the seat on the toilet base and subsequent contact with his stream instantly awoke Bruce's senses as he fumbled to coordinate the somewhat-complicated hold and pee.

"Who invented this stupid seat?" Bruce angrily mumbled with a lack of patience stemming from his adult mind.

"Even when you sat down, this thing pinched your butt," Bruce continued to talk to himself as he wiped the seat clean with toilet paper.

A few blocks away, David Lewis awoke to his alarm playing "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang and was also greeted by a rather stiff surprise in his gym shorts. He stood up and his erect posture was instantly altered by his father, who was so excited for the day that he entered the room without knocking.

"David, are you excited for the big day?"

David quickly sat back down on his bed and replied, "Yeah, big day!" without actually knowing what the hell his dad was talking about.

"Make sure you get plenty of fluids in you today," coach wanna-be Lewis said to his son.

"Yeah, fluids," a distracted and confused David replied as he could barely see his father in the dark room.

"I'll see you at the game," Isaac said as he reached over and kissed his son on the cheek.

"Okay, I'll be there!" David countered and then added "I think?" once his dad cleared the doorway and was out of whispering earshot.

He then searched for a small lamp on his desk and turned on the faint light, as he frantically searched for the one device that would help him answer a ton of questions.

"Where is my cell phone?" he said as he looked around the room for 20 seconds before the reality of the situation sunk in.

"Right, its 1980 and cell phones had not reached the general population yet. Crap! That also means that I don't have a computer, either!"

Once his erection subsided, David raced through the shower with the speed of an accelerated car wash and then was out the door wearing a gray New York Knicks t-shirt, basketball sneakers, a pair of jeans and his team jacket with the leather sleeves. He looked down at the navy blue jacket with gold lettering like he was wearing it for the first time, when in fact he was viewing it for the first time as a member of the Meadow Brook South squad. He looked over at his left sleeve and the familiar number 44 was resting comfortably in its desired location.

He breathed a sigh of relief and said, "At least that hasn't changed."

As David sped toward his friend Bruce's house, Bruce was doing exactly the same thing with his more familiar number 24 team jacket around his shoulders. They were both so intent on getting to each other that they almost stopped at a neutral site and missed the bus. In that case, it was good to be 17 again and filled with energy and more speed than either one of them could remember.

Bruce was slightly out of breath as they jumped on the big yellow bus, "Was I always this fast?"

David looked around the bus and replied, "I don't know, but you were always faster than me."

It would have taken an almost 40 year-old Bruce a few minutes to calm his heart rate, but not this in-shape teenager. He looked back at David and made a face, "Like that is a challenge. That guy with the slapping trick that sent us back here is faster than you."

David couldn't believe his ears, as they walked to the back of the bus, "Are you saying that I can't beat Harold in a sprint?"

Bruce was always the more outgoing of the two, and he nodded at people that he barely knew and said hello. The natural salesman was becoming reacquainted with people that he went to high school with, but the learning curve was still rather steep. Things would be different for David, who was almost starting from square one in his new school.

"Dude, I'm saying that you would have a tough time outrunning your little sister."

David's feelings were still hurt from Bruce's mind trick during a rivalry game in their initial lives, "You're not going to start talking about my sister again? Because if you do, we're gonna' be throwing down right here, right now."

Bruce never gave an inch to his friend, "Everyone stay off of Lewis' sister!" he said in an impromptu announcement to the bus riders.

People laughed at the two supreme beings on the bus on one of the biggest sports days in the history of the school.

The only seats available were the two last seats on the bus, so the guys sat down.

"Are you going to win the championship tonight?" a chatty junior varsity cheerleader named Sandra Perkins asked David.

David looked over at Bruce and innocently asked, "That depends on who we are playing?"

Bruce concurred with the rational response as people on the bus laughed and then broke out with a repeated "DOWN WITH NORTH! DOWN WITH NORTH! DOWN WITH NORTH!" chant.

"I guess we're playing your old school tonight," Bruce laughed as he looked over at David. "It would have been nice to get drunk as 12 year-olds and then wake up a few days before today so we had a little head's up."

David nodded and replied, "At least we're finally together again."

Bruce smiled and stuck out his fist, and David returned the smile and banged fists with his running mate.

"Let's go win a championship," Bruce stated.

10

Things didn't get any easier when they guys arrived at school. David initially marveled at how new and shiny the Meadow Brook South was compared to the old, broken-down, dilapidated school they called Meadow Brook North.

"I wonder where we are playing the game, because I would love to shoot at familiar rims in our first game."

Bruce took offense to the statement, "Why, what's wrong with my high school?"

"Nothing, this place is beautiful," David replied, momentarily diffusing Bruce's infamous hair-pin temper.

"Of course, if you like to go to a school built on a toxic waste dump and people start dying of cancer before they're 40, then..." David stopped dead in his tracks when he realized other people were listening besides Bruce. The guys had picked up the three other players from their starting five, Gary Bellmore, Trent Berkman and Walter Thomas.

"And I would smack you upside your head if you weren't so good with a basketball in your hands," Bruce said, trying to get off the sensitive and secretive subject.

Berkman, the resident enforcer, hauled off and smacked David in the back of the head, and said, "What the fuck is this guy talking about? He's finally going to get laid after the game and all he can talk about is cancer!"

The other guys walked ahead and Bruce and David looked at each other and David said, "This should be an interesting evening."

The guys walked into the principal's office and requested a copy of their schedules from the secretary's who were busy putting up blue and gold streamers in advance of the big game. The two stars of the team could have asked for just about anything at that point.

"I'm sure the teachers wouldn't mind if you guys skipped class today," a leggy, 40-something Mrs. Chambers said. She bent down and removed the two schedules out of a file in the pre-computer era and then made copies.

"Do you remember this woman ever looking this good?" David asked Bruce.

"No, but I do remember her hitting on me every time she saw me. She likes to use her hands, so watch out."

Mrs. Karen Chambers, who just happened to be recently-divorced and exceptionally horny, walked mid-way from the copy machine and the front counter and utilized her right index finger to motion for the boys to come to her.

"Eight ball, front pocket," Bruce panned as he and David walked toward her.

She folded up Bruce's schedule and placed it in his front jeans pocket, lingering for a few seconds to check out his package. Bruce had experienced such treatment before but was equal to the task, as usual.

As Chambers approached David, a happily-married man, images of his wife flashed across his brain, and instead of paralyzing his being, his loyalty had the opposite effect. David grabbed the schedule out of the politically-incorrect secretary's hand and then raced out of the office, saying "Thank you."

"Wow, he was in a hurry," Chambers said to Bruce. "He must really love school."

Divorced Bruce had no allegiances, so he just stood there and smiled and looked down at the bulge in his pants. Mrs. Chambers looked down at her handy-work and said, "You win that game tonight and I'll see about taking care of that," she said as she slapped him on the butt as he turned to walk out.

David waited for Bruce to limp out of the office, but someone was hiding around the corner for him. And just as he was going to talk to Bruce, a spunky blonde ran past him and literally jumped through the air and her legs were around Bruce's waist before he could say "Hello."

She reached down between his legs and knew what was happening, "Was Mrs. Chambers hitting on you again?"

Bruce had no time to respond as his mouth was busy kissing what amounted to his girlfriend, Caroline Chesnut, or C-squared as she was called.

David turned away from the couple and was headed to any place that he could get some quiet. But his refuse was short-lived, as his progress was thwarted by the body of "Double-D," Deborah Drasher, who had spent more than a few nights steaming up the windows with the big guy in this alternate universe. She recently let him pass second base and he was about to slide into third, but the coach was about to wave him on through.

"You ready for tonight?" she purred.

"The before or the after?" he replied as their cheeks were touching.

He marveled at how quickly the sexual engine of a teenager could rev, in contrast to the occasional rendezvous he had with his wife that usually took some coaxing and prodding. But he still wasn't ready to give into the temptation of the other side, at least not yet.

He looked over his shoulder at his schedule, which was propped up in the hand of his extended right arm.

"I don't want to be late for homeroom with..." and since only the last name of the teacher was listed, he couldn't risk trying to take a 50/50 shot at guessing the gender, "Burroughs."

Deborah started laughing as David stepped back and starting walking away, "That old lady is probably still drunk from last night!" she yelled. "Hey, where are you going?" she wondered, as guys rarely slipped through her web once she had successfully lured them in with excessive cleavage.

"Oh boy..." was all David said as had to figure out where the classroom was in a building that he had only seen the inside of the gymnasium.

11

The mood was so upbeat at the school all day, and both guys flashed back to their previously-distant memories of the North-South battles that were unearthed during the reunion. It had also been so long since they played together on the same team that doubt started creeping in by lunch time.

"Wow. I haven't been under this much pressure since my wife wanted me to get a colonoscopy," David said as they sat down to eat at a long rectangular table.

"To hell with that! I can eat hamburgers and fried foods again without worrying about loading on the pounds," Bruce replied, trying to ignore the big pressurized elephant in the room by digging into a plate of processed foods.

David laughed, "You always did try to drown your sorrows with food and I'm sure that you also used alcohol in the same way."

Bruce shoved a handful of fries in his mouth on top of the huge chunk of cheeseburger that preceded it. However, he still managed to emit words through the rubble, "Dude, we have to stop talking like adults and start talking like teenagers."

It took David a few seconds to decode the garbled message and then he replied, "I'm in," just as the other guys from the team came over and sat down.

"What the fuck, Lewis? Taking a break from your usual lunch?" Scott McPartland asked, trying to cover his homosexuality up with some machismo.

David looked at Bruce, whose eyes were burning in anticipation of a sophomoric response.

"That's not what your mother said a few minutes ago, McPartland," David said and then looked down at his crotch. Bruce obviously knew McPartland a lot better than David, and was perplexed that his friend blindly chose to bring up the one and only thing that would instantly infuriate McPartland.

McPartland reached into his pocket and fished out a switchblade-looking device. Bruce tried to swallow whatever food he could before making a dive across the table to break up the certain impending melee. McPartland touched a button on his black switchblade and a comb emerged instead of a knife. He slid the black comb through his shiny black hair and said to David, "You're lucky you're so gorgeous, you huge slice of Boston cream pie, because I love my mom and don't appreciate references to her sexual orientation."

Bruce looked curiously over at McPartland, who was obviously comfortable with being all the way out of the closet in this dimension.

David had trouble coming up with the words that would adequately describe his nausea, so he simply said, "Thanks. Sorry, Mac."

Bruce could sense that David was about to go into a session of psychoanalysis, so he headed him off at the pass.

"One thing I do know is that your mom wants us to kill North tonight!" Bruce grunted and then pounded the table as he took another huge bite of his burger.

The other guys at the table roared as Bruce looked at David and smiled. David smiled back and wondered what the hell was going on inside of the Meadow Brook South locker room. Although he was in an alternative universe, his knowledge of the previous world generally overrode anything he might have known about his current situation. It was almost like he and Bruce were learning on the fly and had to cope with each situation as things progressed.

Later that day, the guys were trying to figure out how they got along on the court, since it had been so many years since they were on the same team. Being introduced to new stimuli almost by the minute was shattering their equilibrium and making them completely paranoid about what was going to happen next.

Edna Lewis dropped off the boys in the back of the school and said, "Go get 'em guys! We'll see you in a few hours!"

David yelled, "Thanks, mom!" and Bruce followed with "Thanks, Mrs. Lewis!"

Once Edna was out of range, the guys quickly cut the nice, innocent teenager bullshit and were back to their old, much older, selves.

"What are we supposed to do now?" David asked.

"Yeah, I know. We have to find out what we've been up to this year because everyone is treating us like we're royalty, or something."

Bruce stopped just in front of the doorway and asked "Is this what it felt like when you beat us?"

David smiled as they started walking again, "It was real good for a few days, maybe even a few weeks, but it was nothing like this. I've had more women throw themselves at me today than in the entire 48 years in my previous life."

"Tell me about it! I hope we don't faze out again before I get a crack at a pile of cuties at some mad party we'll hit after we win this thing," Bruce boasted.

They walked into the gym and made a bee-line for the glass window outside of the coach's office. Bruce located a press clipping primarily because he was the shorter of the two, "Got it!" he lightly exclaimed, so as to not arouse suspicion.

Just then, Coach Jonah Sherman saw his star players through the clippings in the glass and came out to greet them.

"Don't you boys get enough from beating down the competition?" he said as he stood on each side of them and patted them on the back. "I'm surprised they have enough room to fit all of the stats you guys put up on such a small piece of paper!"

Coach Sherman guided the guys into the locker room effectively putting the kibosh on their brief foray into statistical reconnaissance. As they walked alone down the stairs to the varsity locker room, a feeling of extreme pressure set in.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" the usually confident and unflappable Bruce asked.

David took a deep breath and replied, "I don't know. But whatever it is, I doubt we're going to get out of here alive."

Bruce was half-listening because his thoughts had taken him elsewhere, "What?" he exclaimed. "You think they're going to kill us if we don't play well?"

David smiled, "No! But now that we're both thinking of the worst of all possible outcomes, let's try to piece together how we do this."

Bruce recovered enough to respond in jest, "I think the shorts go on one leg at a time and the jersey goes over your head."

David looked over at Bruce because he had left a Grand Canyon-sized opening for the obvious joke, "It's good to know."

"I thought you would appreciate that," Bruce countered as they stopped at their lockers, which were adorned with streamers and pictures of the boys in some of their triumphant moments.

"These people go all out!" David stated, liking his new digs on the other side of the Southern fence. "There's definitely something to be said for buildings that are new..." he then whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Even if they are built on top of a toxic waste site."

"Yeah, I remember how dingy and gross your locker room was..." he quickly corrected himself, "I mean the locker room at North."

"It was, and I'm sure it still is a pit," David replied.

The guys both marveled at how well the tight uniform conformed to their taught bodies. Tucking any kind of garment had become increasingly difficult with time, but it felt good to be amongst the living and breathing again.

Bruce looked over at David, "Well, at least you've had a great marriage all of these years."

David shot him a look and rolled his eyes, "Appearances can be deceiving. We'll probably get divorced once the kids graduate high school."

"What is that like 10 years away... plus another ten for good measure once you get married," Bruce added, just in case someone was listening. He then whispered, "But that's 10 years away?"

David nodded his head, "Never hurts to plan ahead."

Bruce shook his head in disbelief, "You think you know a guy..."

12

Coach Sherman delivered a loud, but largely uninspiring pre-game speech and then the guys were waiting near the coach's office before hitting the floor and the layup line. David didn't feel like he really knew anybody at South, although people were frantically chanting his name from the stands. While Bruce was busy throwing kisses to girls in the stands that were flashes their boobs in hopes of getting a piece of him after the game, David ignored the Mardi Gras-like atmosphere and started strolling toward the window to get a look at that box score.

The tide of players rushing onto the court swept David and Bruce up and they were out into the bright lights of the big game.

"Dude, isn't this awesome?" David gushed. "I don't remember it being this crazy when we played."

"I got a look at the box score, and I think we both scored 40 in the last game."

Bruce looked back at David with an "Are you serious?" look and then scooped up a ball and made his way to the hoop. While his brain initially told him to dribble two times and then rock his left arm back and slam the ball down through the hoop, he was getting mixed signals after the first dribble. The Meadow Brook South crowd usually arrived early because David and Bruce would put on a dunking exhibition before the referees emerged from the coach's office, which doubled as their locker room. The zebras often peered through the glass to get an eyeful of the show, and this night was no exception.

David could see that Bruce had changed his mind mid-way down the line and that trouble was imminent, so he raced toward Bruce and tried to scoop him out of the air as he attempted a safe lay-up, not a dunk. The entire crowd was standing, and even the North supporters were eagerly anticipating the human highlight show about to take place.

The crowd groaned as David caught both the ball and his friend in mid-air and made a bee-line for the locker room. The initial discontent was soon transformed into amusement by David's slapstick smile and Bruce's mock confusion. He dropped Bruce down near the coach's window as the two initially gazed at the box score and then the smiling faces of the two refereed peering up at the through the window.

Bruce looked straight ahead and said, "I believe that's a couple of 40's."

David elbowed his friend and said, "We could use a couple of 40's of Bud right now."

They smiled and waved at the crowd and then slowly walked into the locker room as panic ensued.

"What the fuck are we going to do?" Bruce yelled.

"Hell if I know?" David replied, as the two had every ounce of confidence and ability drained from their bodies.

The crowd continued to be amused for the first few minutes of the game, as the guys looked lost as they watched Meadow Brook North build an early six-point lead on the back of their star, Billy Holland. Holland was David's best friend since he was in sixth grade back in the world they knew as real, but he was probably the furthest thing from a friend on this night.

"Fuck you, Lewis!" Holland said as the jockeyed for position near the basket.

David was not only confused by his surroundings, he was also mystified by all of the hostility coming from his best friend.

"What did I ever do to you, Billy?"

Seth Conroy took a shot from the top of the key and Holland concealed an elbow away from the referee and unceremoniously dumped David on the floor, as he floated into the air and tapped the errant shot back into the basket. He then bent over and taunted David, "That's for running my underwear up the flagpole in fourth grade, bitch!"

Referee John Casey had seen enough and blew his whistle and then strolled over to the scorer's table.

"Basket is good. Technical foul on number 14 of North for taunting!"

The two teams pushed each other back and forth and the crowd was starting to get hostile like it was an international soccer match in a third-world country – although, Long Island, New York can sometime be confused with such a venue. Bruce extended his left arm and picked up David, who instinctively strolled to the other end of the floor and the foul line to shoot the technical free throws.

Little did David know that he hadn't missed a foul shot all year, but he stepped back from the line after an audible gasp could be heard from the entire crowd, even the shocked North supporters. One student even had a board that reflected the amount of consecutive free throws at 144, and he was about to flip the number over to 145 as David released the ball toward the rim.

Bruce looked around the gym in horror after the ball caromed off the rim and crashed down to the hardwood. He tried to appear calm in his few-step stroll over to David.

"Something tells me that you don't miss many of these in this life."

David wasn't amused, "Like I missed so many in the other life?"

Bruce wasn't playing anymore, "If we want to get out of here alive, I think you better make this one."

"On it," David replied, as the referee flipped him the ball and Bruce nervously watched.

The crowd was in stunned silence as David's second free throw floating through the air and ripped through the twine without the hint of engaging the rim. The crowd breathed a huge sigh of relief in the belief that order had been finally restored.

David and Bruce recovered enough to play their normal pre-life games, finishing the half scoring 12 and 10 points, respectively, but the team was down 45-30. Usually, a walk into the locker after the first 16 minutes of a high school game would be fairly routine, but it never was during the Lewis-Meyer Show. Girls came up and wanted to pose for pictures and have their boobs signed with markers, while local kids yearned for autographs and had $20 bills at the ready to pay for such an in-demand item.

"Dude, we're like rock stars," a star-struck Bruce said to David as he was looking over the crop of female talent and telling a security guard which ones to keep aside for after the game.

Once the guys finished greeting the crowd, they walked into the locker room and were greeted by a group that had a lot of questions.

"Are you guys feeling okay? Because I don't think I've seen you miss a free throw since like seventh grade," Walter Thomas asked, turning to David and feeling his forehead with the back of his hand.

"He is a little warm," Thomas stated. "Come to think of it, I don't remember you ever being sick."

After a few minutes of strange questioning and observations, David exclaimed, "We have to go to the bathroom! We'll see you guys out on the floor!"

"What the fuck is going on here?" a freaked-out David asked.

Bruce laughed, "What's not to like? You were always the conservative one, questioning things and throwing a wet blanket on everything."

David barely listened to Bruce's response and came back with his own observation.

"We are obviously in some type of alternative universe but judging by our popularity, I would venture to guess that fuckin' Harold is trying to show us some sort of fantasy world before bringing us crashing back to reality."

"Harold?" a confused Bruce asked and then the light when on in his head. "Oh, Harold! He always did talk about how great it would be if we played together!"

Just then, Harold walked into the locker room and yelled, "C'mon guys, the second half is going to start!"

They ran at Harold to ask him some questions but his image disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"What the fuck?" Bruce said as they both witnessed the vanishing of the hologram.

"Wait a minute!" David yelled. "If all of this shit is happening around us, then none of it is real!"

"Meaning?" Bruce asked.

David rolled his eyes, "You always were a little slow, but obviously you make up for it with boyish good looks and charm."

They looked at each other, "See! I would never say that! I might think it, but I would never say it!" David said.

Bruce was now hip to the jive, "So that means that we can do just about anything we put our minds to, because this is our fantasy.

David smiled, "I always wanted my own Golden Retriever puppy."

And before Bruce could think of the hundreds of provocative and dirty things he always wanted to do, a cuddly Golden Retriever puppy appeared in David's hands.

"Cool!"

He then recovered quickly, "Before you go sleeping with all of the models you can get your hands on, I think we should go out there and give the people what they want."

Bruce thought about having infinite jumping ability and before he said another word, he was 15 feet in the air without even a running start. He settled back down on the ground in gentle fashion and said, "I think I can go much higher."

David put his hand on Bruce's shoulder while he cradled the puppy with his other hand, "Easy there, Casanova! Try to keep it in the gym!"

Bruce smirked, "I'll do my best, big guy," as they started walking back through the doors and onto the gym floor. "Really? Of all of the things you could have wished for and you picked a puppy?"

"I like dogs," David replied. "Besides, I wasn't the one that wished for some extra hops..."

And they looked at each other and David admitted, "That was pretty cool!"

To say the second half of the game was a lopsided affair would have been a blatant understatement, because the play got downright silly. Old statistics were thrown out the window and even the new normal was old within minutes. There was even a point late in the fourth quarter when the fans were brought to tears from the collective beauty on display in front of them. A combination of rainbows, fireworks and sunsets were inter-dispersed with flips, tricks and gravity-defying acrobatics from the dynamic hoops duo. The opposing North players and the referees even stood to watch the show in all of its splendor.

As the final buzzer went off, David hoped for a dose of reality because this alternative world lacked the substance he had grown to see as comfort. Bruce saw the serious look in his eyes and clutched on tight to a couple of hotties and screamed "NOOOOOO!" as the dream world went from the full spectrum of colors to black. Play time had come to an abrupt end...

13

Bruce was having the best dream of his life involving a pile of chicks and a bottle of baby oil, but that came to an abrupt halt and he was alone and under water. The startling transition from one virtual world to another involved his virtual rebirth. Just as Bruce thought he couldn't hold his breath anymore, he was thrust into the light and he violently exhaled and simulated coughing up fluid.

A few blocks away, David was experiencing a similar cross-dimensional journey, but his route was paved with more angst than lady bumps. His dream involved angry townspeople chasing after him with torches and clubs like he was Frankenstein. David ran so fast and so far that his collective force shattered the barrier between worlds before he jumped off a cliff and ascended brought a waterfall to the depths of the water below.

Again, both guys frantically looked for their cell phones before realizing that their only connection to each other was either a wired phone or causal conversation - dread the thought.

Bruce and David both walked out of their rooms and their fathers heard the loud gasps upon recently and said, "You having that drowning dream again?"

The boys were still shaking off the cobwebs but replied, "Yeah, how did you know?"

"I guess that was your alternate world, and something tells me we are about to get a dose of reality in my world," David said as they met on the way to the bus stop.

It was a cold, dark morning and Bruce would have preferred to be anywhere but outside waiting for the bus to go to school.

"Fuck. How old do you think we are now?"

David turned to a bespectacled kid waiting on the corner and said, "What year is this?"

The kid was so offended by the question, he didn't answer at first because he thought that David was making fun of him.

David took note of the eye-roll and took a chance, "Have I ever made fun of you in the past?"

The boy shook his head "No" and then talked, "But he has," looking at Bruce with disdain.

Bruce could not believe what he was hearing. While it was true that he had imparted his share of pointed comments at Stewart Blunt over the years, whether it was in this world or his original life, he still was not ready to shift gears and play nice.

"Fuckin' Poindexter!" he angrily muttered under his breath, although it was meant to be audible.

Stewart looked at David and exclaimed, "See!"

David then turned to Bruce and said, "You're really going to get into a pissing contest with a 17 year-old?"

Bruce was still angry, but he used some of his adult maturity to help settle down, "Okay, I'm sorry," he said loud enough that only David heard him.

"Not to me, to him," David replied.

Bruce looked over at Stewart and said, "I'm sorry Stewart," as he walked over and extended his hand.

Stewart shook his hand with all of the force of a wet noodle and said, "Only if you call me Stew."

It was obviously true that Stewart Blunt was true to his surname, and was one of the most abrasive people on the planet.

Bruce's calm turned back to anger as his grip tightened, "What did you say, Stewart?"

"Ow!" Stewart cried. "I didn't say anything."

"What year is it?" Bruce asked, as his tightened the vice grip.

"1981!" Stewart yelled.

Bruce released his new friend from the grip of death and said, "Thank you, Stew."

A mixture of pain and satisfaction dotted Stewart's mind, but the pain was winning out for the moment. Bruce looked back over at David and then saw a familiar figure running at them until the bouncy 14 year-old, Jackie Lewis was in front of them.

"What are you guys doing at the bus stop? Mom wants you to drop me off at school because I have to be there early to set up for the bake sale."

Bruce was both happy to see little Jackie and relieved that he would be able to be rescued from the cold, so he bounced over to Jackie and gave her a hug. The awkward length of the hug made Jackie an instant diva, as the news of the act would spread fast between the high school and the junior high school.

"All right, all right, break it up!" David playfully, but awkwardly, yelled. He grabbed Bruce's arm and dragged him a few feet before releasing him.

"You got me all paranoid since you said that crap to me at the end of the game the first time," David explained.

Bruce had to search his hard drive for that reference, "Yeah, but all that did was make you even more focused."

They walked fast back to David's house, where Jackie flipped him the car keys and they were off in his aqua Chevy Impala. "Man, was this thing a boat."

Bruce looked over the car, "I guess they weren't as concerned with gas mileage back in these days."

David warmed up the car for five minutes and then drove down the block and past a gas station, "Look, it's like a third of the price!" he said to Bruce.

Jackie was confused.

"What are you guys talking about? A third of the price of what?"

"Nothing! You would never understand," David replied.

Bruce looked back at Jackie from the front passenger seat and said, "Don't worry about it Jack. I'm also confused about the whole thing."

A few minutes later, Jackie bounded out of the car and said, "Later alligators!"

She slammed the door and David instinctively yelled, "Don't slam the door!"

"Sorry!" she innocently replied as she ran to the front door.

Jackie walked away and David said to Bruce, "I'm not even sure why I just yelled at her?"

"Must be that parental license you're wielding."

David pulled into the parking lot and Bruce yelled and pointed, "Take that space! That's where I always used to park."

As they walked from the car to the doors at the back of the building, Bruce felt a certain familiarity with his surrounding but also sensed that something was different this time around.

"My Spidey senses are tingling," Bruce said.

David was confused, "What are you saying?"

Bruce opened the door for David and said, "Age before beauty."

David rolled his eyes to the side and replied, "In your dreams."

"Something is not right here," Bruce stated.

"The school looks the same to me," David innocently interjected.

"It doesn't to me," Bruce replied. "Hold on tight, big Dave!"

The first person to approach Bruce as he made his way to his locker was Kelly Rogers. Their relationship had apparently stood the test of time, as she walked right up and planted a big kiss on his lips. He froze at first, because it had been 20 years since their relationship ended rather abruptly. He returned the kiss and then stepped back and attempted to reassess the situation... thoughts of being blindsided and having his heart broken on the last day of school flooding back into Bruce's mind. Kelly was going away to college in New England and didn't want to carry any excess Meadow Brook baggage with her. He realized she had shattered any image of relationship normalcy in the moment she chose to move on. Marriage eventually happened and then divorce was inevitable, but now Bruce had a chance to wipe the slate clean and start again.

Kelly must have seen a look in Bruce's eyes that she hadn't seen before because she became a bit spooked.

"What's wrong? Are you all right?" Petite cheerleader Kelly inquired.

Bruce displayed none of the wild emotion or indecision that he had been plagued with as a teenager when he calmly said, "We're over," as he shoved his coat inside his locker, grabbed a few books and then casually walked away.

She stood their stunned, not knowing whether to cry or scream, so she did neither. Kelly was months away from reassessing her priorities and felt like someone had just sucker-punched her in the stomach, proving that payback was quite the bitch, indeed!

14

David had absolutely no idea where he was going until he spotted a tall blonde leaning against a row of lockers to his left. When she smiled at him, he figured that this would be as good a place as any to start his day.

"Good morning," he said with all of the confidence befitting his advanced years.

There was a visible and noticeable change from this David as opposed to other versions of him that deferred to the conservative.

"There's my big grizzly bear," Belinda Carlson purred as she extended her long, thin arms around his neck and met him in a passionate kiss. He pinned her against the lockers and continued groping her as Calculus teacher, Mr. Walton, walked by and lost the visual once his glasses fogged over.

Bruce turned the corner and spotted two rather large figures going at it against the lockers. Since he had never seen his friend David so much as kiss another girl in their lives, even though the big guy was married in his real life, the thought of the male groper being the person he entered this world with was the last thing on his mind.

"What the..." was all he got off as he spied David's rather identifiable profile.

Thoughts of a world gone wrong were quickly diverted when William Rogers, Kelly's younger brother, came from behind to confront Bruce. He pushed Bruce in the back, which made him turn away from the make-out session and toward his pursuer. But once he saw that it was his little bro', Billy Rogers, his hands went from the ready fight position to his waist. The next thing he knew he was waking up in the nurse's office with a doozy of a headache.

Bruce strained to open his eyes and then tried to pick his head up but he felt hung-over.

"What's going on?" he said, without even knowing who he was talking to.

"Easy there, big guy," a now-confident David said as he put his hand on Bruce's shoulder and guided him back down to the pea green upright couch/chair.

"What happened?" Bruce asked.

"What is the last thing you remember?" David asked.

Bruce rubbed his head and replied, "We drove your sister to school, and... that's about it."

David turned around and Kelly Rogers bounced into view, as she was waiting for any sign of a green light.

The sight of Kelly lit a fire under Bruce's short-term memory and filled in the gaps of the day's events.

"Still not going out with you," he said as he pointed at Kelly and spoke in a tone befitting 20 years of frustration.

She picked up her backpack and was going to hit him over the head again, but her brother stopped the swing in mid-air and then escorted her out of the nurse's office.

"That is one crazy bitch," Bruce said to David.

"Is that the one?" David asked, alluding to the fact that Kelly was the one that had destroyed his faith in love.

"Yeah," Bruce said in a somber tone as David helped him sit up slowly.

"Well, now you have a chance to start with a clean slate and head in an entirely different direction.

Bruce grabbed on to David's arm and stood up, "Yeah, I was trying to go in a different direction in that other life we just left."

"Yeah I could see that. You better rest for a few days to avoid post-concussion syndrome. These people will probably want to slap a Band-Aid on you and send you on your way." David then spoke to the nurse when he peeled back the curtain.

"Excuse me, when is our next game?"

Nurse Walters replied, "Friday."

David looked at Bruce so he would ask the next obvious question.

"And what is today?"

She looked over at David, "He took quite a knock on his head, didn't he?"

David nodded in agreement.

"It is Wednesday."

David escorted Bruce out and said, "See, you have two days to recover."

15

It was Thursday afternoon and Bruce slept most of the day. He awoke with a headache and then called the local pharmacy after he discovered that his mother neglected to get him any drugs for his splitting headache. Normally, Bruce would have found a way over to Pinkerton's Drug Store, but the wave of nausea told him everything he needed to know about his limited mobility.

"Pinkerton's Drugs, how can I help you?" a perky female voice said on the other end of the line.

"Hello. I have a splitting headache. Do you guys deliver?" Bruce asked.

"I'm sorry, sir. We only make deliveries of $20 or more."

Bruce sat down and moaned from the pain in his head.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked.

"Yeah, I'll be all right. My psychotic ex-girlfriend blindsided me with a backpack-full of textbooks."

And, just then, Maxine Pinkerton finally realized who she was talking to.

"Bruce?"

"Yeah, this is Bruce. Who is this?" he asked.

"It's Maxine. Maxine Pinkerton. We were lab partners our sophomore year and dissected that poor little frog together."

While Bruce had no recollection of a 10th grade lab partner, either in this life or any other, he played along, "Oh, Maxine!" as he figured that her family must have owned the pharmacy that had a few good years left before being consumed by a national chain of drug stores.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do... I'll bring you over some of the good stuff on my way home in a few minutes."

Although Bruce only had a vague recollection of who this person was, he was appreciative that she was reaching out and trying to help him.

The chill of the early week turned into above-average temperatures by Thursday, giving Bruce an opportunity to get some fresh air on the back porch. Maxine stepped up to the front porch and a note with a piece of tape attached read, "BACK PORCH."

"Are you wearing your pajamas outside in the middle of winter?" she said as she stepped into the backyard and in view of Bruce.

Bruce looked over at his old lab partner, expecting to be underwhelmed by her appearance. But, when the setting sun hit her face pale just right it made her green eyes glow, and he had never seen something so beautiful before. With the impediment of a crushing high school relationship now moved safely aside, Bruce was able to see things more clearly, even though it could have been possible that the concussion combined with the first girl he saw was more responsible for the reaction than love magic.

She noticed that he looked a bit stunned and kept moving closer even though he didn't reply. Bruce was sitting a chaise lounge with his legs extended, but she seized the opportunity and straddled his legs while placing her cool hand across his forehead.

"You didn't deserve that knock on the head," she stated. "That girl is pure evil, anyway. Does that feel better?"

Bruce closed his eyes and let all of the tension in his head release as he focused on her healing hand. She reached into her pocket and popped open a plastic bottle with one hand, extracting two white pills. She then removed a bottle of water from her other pocket and quietly said, "Open."

He obliged and she dropped the pills on to his tongue and then poured just enough liquid for him to swallow the help.

"Before long you'll be sleeping and then when you wake up in the morning, you'll be right as rain again."

She stood up and helped Bruce to his feet, and then held his arm as they walked toward his bedroom.

"I always imagined that this room would be bigger," she observed.

He was so relaxed by the time she tucked him in that he barely responded to the statement. And, as she turned the light off in his room before leaving the house she said, "You'll probably wake up tomorrow and even forget I was here."

As she cleared the doorway he softly said, "No, I won't."

Bruce awoke in what he thought was the next morning, only the aches from his head were now all over his body.

"What the hell?" he grunted as he slowly stood up to go to the bathroom.

He was so used to living alone in his real life that he walked into the bathroom and kept the door wide open, which signaled his passing father that it was okay to approach.

"How you feeling, champ?" Oliver Meyer asked as he stood in the doorway.

Bruce's body jumped, which caused his stream to go slightly astray.

"Dad, you scared me. I wasn't expecting you to be there."

"Who else were you expecting, your girlfriend?" Oliver panned. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm achy but I'll be ready for the game tonight," he replied, thinking that it was Friday morning. "And, I broke up with Kelly."

Oliver couldn't believe his ears, "First of all, you better get your ass in the shower because it's Wednesday and you have to get to school. And, I wasn't talking about Kelly. What's with you, she's old news," he added as he walked away shaking his head.

Meanwhile, in the Lewis residence, things were certainly heating up.

While David's parents, Edna and Isaac Lewis were out at separate destinations all night, he took the opportunity to bring his girlfriend home for a sleepover. However, when he awoke in the morning, thoughts of adult responsibilities jammed his head until he felt a warm mouth greeting his lower and now more dominate brain.

"Well that doesn't suck," he thought to himself before he said, "Good morning."

Belinda Carlson emerged from under the covers and assumed the position on top of David.

"Well, I'll be the judge of how good your are this morning."

The euphoria of the mind-blowing sex was neutralized by the pain that wrapped David's body the morning after a tough game. While he wasn't as active as Belinda remembered, it was his lasting power that definitely ruled the day and conducted a few satisfying symphonies.

David got in his car and Belinda sat in the passenger seat, meaning that Bruce would have to sit in the back seat by himself once they picked him up. He groaned as he slid into the back seat and then waited to talk because what he had to say do David was more personal in nature. David made a few rights and then a left and stopped in front of a light blue split-level house that this Bruce was unfamiliar with. But when Maxine Pinkerton emerged from the house, many of his inquiries melted away. Questions were no longer important, for it was the answers - the living - that now took center stage.

16

It was no coincidence that the duo kept going to sleep the night before a game and then waking up days after the game.

"Why do you think Harold won't let us near a game in this life?" Bruce asked David as they sat in the vacant lunchroom after school before practice.

David pondered the question, which he had also thought about privately between sexual encounters.

"Well, it appears that we have been given a second chance to change our lives and it has nothing to do with basketball for a change."

Bruce was even more confused than before, "So are you saying that I won't be divorced when we get back?"

David laughed, "This is getting scary. You're starting to sound about as anal as I used to be, micromanaging every little detail of life. Who knows, maybe we'll just instinctively know what to do when we get back."

Bruce shook his head, "That Harold is certainly smarter than we gave him credit for."

David raised his left eyebrow, "If there really was a Harold to start with?"

They stood up as Bruce exclaimed, "There's my conspiracy theorist! I thought I lost you for a second," as he got David in a playful headlock.

This trip back in time was not only about the two guys, it also involved their families. While David would have probably been more outgoing and Bruce would have veered more to a thoughtful approach if they stayed in school together, it was their parents that would have added the most shock value.

David left Belinda in the shower and went downstairs to get something to eat. He opened the top kitchen cabinet and all he could see was sugar cereals, something he had given up at least 10 years earlier in his real world. But, he was 18 again and could easily tolerate his favorite combination of Cocoa Krispies, Cap'n Crunch and Sugar Pops without either passing out or running to the bathroom. He sat down at the ancient, oval kitchen table and started shoveling in the cereal blend, sans milk, until the front door opened unexpectedly.

Edna Lewis walked through the door with a slinky dress and hair that was far from looking its best. She sat walked over to the cabinet and pulled a bowl out and then fetched a spoon before pouring herself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch. David was about to inquire whether she had just come in from an all-nighter, but he already knew a credible version of the 'walk of shame' when he saw it. While he didn't get a full look at him mom, he thought that her dress might even be on backwards.

David then heard the sound of footsteps bouncing down the stairs and figured that it was an always-hungry Belinda. But, to his surprise, the sight of his dad with a pair of boxer shorts and no shirt and Joyce Meyer in a slinky teddy negligee made the usually simplistic process of swallowing a hat trick blend of cereals nearly impossible.

"Good morning, guys," a chipper Joyce Meyer stated, her body surprisingly kickin' for a mom.

Isaac Lewis then kissed his wife on the top of the head and Joyce Meyer sat on David mom's lap and Edna fed her some cereal. David dropped his spoon and stood up from the table, his mind having trouble processing the progressive swing in the room.

"Everything all right, champ?" his dad asked.

"Yeah, you look a little pale," his mom added.

Even at 38 years old in real years, David was at a complete loss for words. He became even more paralyzed when Belinda came downstairs and walked into the kitchen and acted like nothing was wrong with the groovy scene in front of him.

"Good morning, people," Belinda said. "I'll just grab a bagel and we'll get going," she added, talking to David.

"I got your everything bagels, kiddo," Isaac Lewis said to Belinda and then smacked her on the butt.

"Thanks, Mr. L," she said as she grabbed a bagel out of the bag and then kissed the three adults in the room before grabbing her boyfriend's hand and finally dragging him out of there.

"We'll see you kids later!" Edna Lewis exclaimed.

The drive from David's house to Bruce's house took a few seconds longer than usual because David's processing speed had been irreparably altered. He pulled into Bruce's driveway and then waited patiently for his friend to emerge from the doorway. Finally, after five minutes of idling in the driveway and undoubtedly depleting the ozone layer, Bruce walked out of the front door and onto the path between the house and the driveway. He looked stunned as he walked up to David's window and asked him to roll the window down.

"Can you please step out here a moment," Bruce asked in a subdued tone.

David rolled his window back up and then slowly emerged from the car, his view of a life that he lived shattered and broken. He walked slowly toward Bruce, the two guys exhibiting horrendous posture and then Bruce spoke.

"Can you explain to me why your mother was kissing my father in the kitchen this morning?"

"Only if you can explain why your mother was prancing around my kitchen half-naked - and looking pretty good – while I was trying to eat a bowl of cereal."

Bruce was taken off track, "Cap'n Crunch, Cocoa Krispies and Sugar Pops with no milk?"

"Yep."

"What a waste."

"I know, that's what I thought when it almost came back up," David replied.

"Did you say something about my mom?" Bruce asked.

"Sorry. I didn't know she was a MILF in those days?"

"Did you just call my mom a MILF?" Bruce said as the two guys starting tugging at each other and then wrestling on the ground.

"All I'm saying is that I would do her," David said, which served to make Bruce even madder.

"I don't like this version of you," Bruce said as he threw David off him. "It was so much cooler when I was the one who would do and say just about anything that came into my mind."

David stuck out his hand and helped Bruce up. "I must admit that it's not so bad to take a walk on the wild side every now and then."

Bruce chuckled, "Tell me about it."

17

Much of the stress and strain that the Meyer and Lewis families experienced in the original life was alleviated in the most recent life by the cross-pollination of sorts occurring. Queen bees changing hives without any regard for family structure, the quintessential family unit.

Bruce got up the courage one afternoon to have an honest discussion about the chaos he was witnessing.

"Mom, do you have a minute to talk?" Bruce asked as he sat at the kitchen table.

"Sure, honey. What's on your mind?" Joyce Meyer replied and then sat down across from Bruce.

Bruce was a lot more hesitant to speak his mind than usual, than he was used to.

"I don't know how to put this? But, can we talk about what's going on with us and the Meyers'?"

Joyce was a bit puzzled by the phrasing of the question, so Bruce decided to press on more aggressively, being that this world was only a manifestation of thoughts not a lasting universe.

"How long have you been sleeping with David's dad?" He stopped himself from sounding like a scared teenager and quickly transitioned into his chronological state of mind, which placed him firmly as his mother's peer.

"Isaac Lewis."

Joyce was torn at first whether to refute the line of questioning, or talk directly to her maturing son? But she always went with her gut reaction on things, and pressed ahead with her response.

"Since you guys were in little league. The pressure of life was getting to all of us, so we collectively decided to blow off some steam. You've known for some time what was going on around here, haven't you? It's not like we tried to keep it a secret from you."

Bruce thought for a few moments about the question and then thoughtfully replied, "I guess I'm a little old-fashioned, at least a little more lately than I used to be."

"Yeah, I can sense a real change in you since you starting going out with Maxine. That one's a keeper."

Bruce smiled, "Yes, she is," and then his world went dark, sending him into a transitional phase for the first time while awake in this alternate world. The next thing he knew, he was standing in the hallway outside of the South Meadow Brook High School gymnasium. Bruce had to brace himself as he landed on his feet, his Nike hi-tops cushioning the blow of the drop. David experienced a similar journey, although he was much more upset at being taken away from a rendezvous with Belinda.

Once he regained his bearings he said, "Damn! I was on my way back to heaven!"

The guys thought they were alone until Harold Pulaski popped in to the picture and was standing in front of them.

Bruce exclaimed, "Harold! Boy do we have a lot of questions for you!"

"Yeah," David added, "But first, can you first send me back to my room? I have a little sex business to take care of."

Harold played along, "Bad word! Big man with the big nose said a bad word!"

David turned to Bruce, "Is my nose big?"

Bruce took a few angles in evaluating the proboscis, "I think it's proportional with your frame."

"Good to know," David replied.

Harold was wearing a really nice three-button suit and his hair was slicked back like he was on his way to an important meeting.

The guys looked at each other in shock and then gazed at Harold, who was smiling from ear to ear.

"You two were the only guys that didn't make fun of me all of those years. Fuckin' assholes in this town."

The guys always had a sense of humor no matter what world they were in and yelled in unison, "Bad word!" while covering their ears.

"Good one," Harold said.

"So, is this your real facade?" Bruce asked, because he had become the more inquisitive of the two in their current state.

"Sadly, no. This is the way I see myself internally but we all know what the truth is. Being a slick business man seemed like the best way to get my point across. You know it was my dream since you guys were small that you play together throughout high school. I enjoyed watching you two play so much that I never wanted to see the ride end. Those stupid people ruined it for everyone, but most of all it tore you guys apart and made you into enemies. I couldn't bear watching that anymore."

Bruce nodded then turned to David, "It definitely worked out better for you than it did for me. Not only did we lose to your team, I also had problems adjusting to my social life once Kelly Rogers dumped me at the end of our senior year... never fully committed to a relationship after that."

"And I thought I had the world in the palm of my hand, but winning that game only took me so far. I was running on fumes months before the reunion."

"Once your teams got together at that bar and were about to rumble over a game that should never have occurred in the first place, I knew it was time to step in and utilize some of the magic I have been given in supernatural compensation for my disability," Harold stated.

Bruce continued his line of questioning, "So, why did we experience the last world before this one?"

"I wanted to loosen you guys up a bit for what was to come," Harold countered.

"What was to come? David asked.

"Yes, David. An opportunity will become available that will be too good to pass up. It is your birthright as brothers to ensure that the next generation remains on the correct path, the righteous path."

"In this life?" David asked.

"No, you must finish up here so you know what to expect next. Also, whatever social interaction you experienced in this life will now cease to exist. While all of the memories from this life will remain fresh, the focus of your existence will now shift to your place together on the court."

"Are we going to finally play together like it was supposed to be?" David asked.

Harold nodded in affirmation, "Once I vanish from sight, we will all be back to our old selves again, with the accumulation of everything we have learned on this journey. I wish you both the best of luck," and then he put out both of his hands and said, "Give me five!"

And both guys slapped his hands without hesitation as Harold faded out, smiled and stated, "On the other side."

Harold disappeared and the guys came to after being in suspended animation for a few seconds in order to reboot their systems.

"Why do we always slap his hand when he offers?" David asked Bruce as they walked into the gym.

"I just can't resist it no matter how much I try to hold back," Bruce countered.

18

The next three days were all about readying for the big North-South game scheduled to take place at the North gym on Saturday at 7:00 pm. Bruce and David used the days of practice to reacquaint themselves with each other's games and reenergize that special bond they had as kids. They were no longer trying to sort out the intricacies of their family life, including the dramatic turns and breakthroughs of their own personal lives. The real goal here was unearthing years of buried and layered joy amidst the triangle of Bruce, David and their biggest fan Harold.

"This is the third straight day of practice and I can't remember being anywhere else?" David asked Bruce as they took a walk to the water fountain.

Bruce shook his head in disbelief and laughed, "Harold must really want us to play well tomorrow."

David bent his large frame down and slurped some water from the aged water fountain, "Wow. It's a lot easier to bend in this younger frame."

"We have to be more active when we get back, Dave."

"I know. I really let that shit go for years while the kids were small."

Bruce replied, "I found it hard to live a productive life all these years while holding so much anger. I was mad at you, mad at my father, and mad at Kelly for not believing in us."

I think while you were mad, I just sat back and lived off my early successes," David said. "I probably peaked right after college when I met my wife. The last 15 years I have been pretty much going through the motions. Even considered suicide a couple of years ago when I lost my job."

Bruce reached his left arm out and lovingly grabbed onto David's right arm.

"You considered checking out?"

"Yes, sir," David replied.

"I have been down that road many times since I left high school - first with testing the limits of alcohol and drugs in college, and then looking for a way out of this miserable existence by other means."

"Pills?" David asked.

"Yeah," Bruce conceded.

"But you and I aren't quitters. We never were and we never will be," David stated.

They embraced and then put their heads together in a show of unity.

They pulled back and Bruce said, "Remember that time our team was down by 15 points at the half and we won by 10?"

David laughed, "Yeah! We were like 11 years old!"

"Let's go kill this shit tomorrow!" Bruce grunted.

"And when we get back, let's scale the mountain again together," David added.

"Done!" Bruce agreed as the shook bro' hands and hugged before walking back into the gym.

It turned out that the opponent that Saturday night was secondary to the game going on between David Lewis and Bruce Meyer.

From the opening tap, which David directed over to Bruce, the two worked seamlessly in a hoop concerto to create a near-flawless basketball symphony. Bruce dribbled down the left-hand side of the court and sensed his taller running mate streaking down the lane – well as fast as a slow-footed big man could streak with a uniform on. He lobbed a pass and David rose and gently laid the ball in over the rim.

Much of the animosity that was experienced in these North-South games was alleviated on this night. The beauty of the interaction between the two players was a sight to behold for fans, the other eight players on the court and the players and coaches on the respective benches.

"You know that its almost not fair that you guys have been together this long," best friend in the original world, Billy Holland, said to David while Bruce was taking a foul shot.

David replied, "The only thing I regret is not being able to play with you, Billy."

Billy was surprised by the comment, but he had always had an amicable relationship in this world with David, or so he was led to believe.

"Thanks, Davey," Billy replied. He didn't even realize that he had just called David by the nickname he had given him in their main lives.

David acknowledged the familiarity of the gesture with a simple smile.

The final score of the game was rendered irrelevant by the good vibes in the gymnasium. The two guys passed the ball between themselves and their teammates like there was a string attached. David and Bruce came together after the game had ended and Bruce said, "That was a thing of beauty. I was mad all these years that we didn't get to do that together."

David replied, "We still have time to make it right."

"On the OTHER side!" Harold yelled as he crashed the party, sending the guys spiraling back to the world they knew as reality. Time momentarily stood still as the guys consciously transitioned from one world to their original world, which now seemed like a distant memory.

"That was an interesting few days," David said.

"How long do you think we've been gone in real time?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out!" David replied, as they gained speed on their way through a bright white light.

David and Bruce were placed back in their spots adjacent to their teammates and across from their rivals at the belly of the bar. They had a brief moment to adjust while everyone was still frozen.

"What are we going to do?" Bruce asked.

"We're gonna' end this shit," David replied as everyone came back on line.

The other eight guys were blinded by a light that threw them off-balance for a moment. It was just about "go time" before the guys disappeared, and Bruce was even about to lunge at David and try to take his head off.

"Rematch!" was all that David exclaimed. In the small space of time he had to decide what the next action would be, so he decided that replaying a game that was so steeped in controversy and testosterone was a lot less painful that getting into a full-scale brawl with the South squad.

Bruce knew exactly what his friend was talking about but sought to clarify the details.

"Now?"

The other eight guys turn their collective attention from Bruce back to David.

"Well, we could continue to drink and have a good time and play tomorrow or the next day, or even next week, or we could go right now and get it over with?"

A chorus of excuses ranging from "I'm not really loose right now" to "I don't have my gear in my car," were heard as Bruce walked about to David and the two guys shook hands and then met in a bro' hug.

"We're never gonna' play this game, are we?" Bruce asked.

David pulled back and replied, "Not if I can help it."

19

The reunion was a great success following that initial bit of tension and flight to and from a parallel universe. Everyone was getting along for the most part, save for a few rival football players that had too much to drink and were letting off years of excess steam and frustration. David took the first opportunity through a break in the action to forge a new path with a familiar woman.

"I missed you," he said after exchanging initial greetings.

"You missed me? Where did you go? I thought you left here only a few hours ago?"

"It took a trip out to Meadow Brook and beyond to realize that I have completely mailed it in lately. I don't want to get a divorce, Allie," David said to his wife Allison as he broke out into a gentle sob.

Allison, for her part, had experienced so many meaningless conversations with her husband that it took her a few seconds to realize the true meaning behind his pointed words.

"Ugh, divorced? David, have you been drinking?"

He wiped his wet eyes with the sleeve of his white dress shirt and then replied, "No. I've wasted so many years after high school, living off the success of one game, one night in my life that also damaged the life of my best friend. That all stops now! We never went on a honeymoon and I think it's high time that we went to Hawaii, so I booked a trip for next week and your mom is coming in to watch the kids."

Allison was speechless for one of the rare occasions in her life, partly because it wasn't like her husband to be spontaneous and primarily because she was actually having thoughts about divorcing David. She had called her mom several times to voice her displeasure with the marriage and was met with the same resistance from her mom who would invariable say, "Give the man a chance. You have no idea what kind of pressure he is under to support the family. His day will come, Allie."

Rita Smolen was elated that her son-in-law had called her moments earlier with the great news. She was happy that her daughter's relationship was about to bear fruit beyond her beautiful grandchildren, and she would also use the opportunity to come in and rearrange the house in a more orderly fashion.

Bruce, on the other hand, had no wife to crawl back to because he had completely obliterated any semblance of a happy union many years prior to the reunion. The initial euphoria of his return to his 'normal' life was followed up with the realization that he was now alone in his empty world. He had been drinking a few beers to drown his sorrows and then strolled toward the bathroom to drop some of the golden liquid off at the pool.

The symmetry between the lives he had experience were now only moments, breaths away from achieving full connection. As Bruce turned the corner of the dark bar area the night of the reunion, a shapely figure entered the alcove of the bathroom area from the opposite direction. He looked down at his cell phone to see if he had received any emails or messages, but the well was typically dry. The woman headed in his direction noticed the misguided missile before impact and said, "Hey!" as she used whatever force she had left after a few margaritas to pin Bruce against wall across from the bathroom doors.

Bruce couldn't focus on the woman at first until she backed away slightly.

He was pleasantly surprised as he gushed, "Maxie?"

Maxine Pinkerton had veered a long way from her third-world persona as Bruce's main squeeze. At 38 years old, she had been divorced for five years and saw absolutely no possibility of reconnected with another man. Maxie was so numb, in fact, that she wasn't even the least bit concerned that about producing an offspring and nurturing her own child, which was one of her 'wants' growing up.

But that all changed when she decided to come to the reunion a few months earlier. While her hand was ready to rip the initiation in half and toss the useless remains in the garbage, something in her mind compelled her to fill out her information and write a $90 check. She wondered throughout the first two hours of the reunion why she had agreed to such madness, but that all changed in a quiet moment when everything that occurred in her life up to that point became clear. This moment of clarity also was defined by a flash on her smoldering relationship with Bruce in their alternate life once their bodies touched.

Maxine was no longer confused as she replied, "Bruce? Bruce Meyer?" and held on to Bruce's arms with her hands.

Bruce smiled and brashly replied, "Daddy's home, Maxie," as they met in a passionate kiss that lasted for the next 44 years. The couple's bliss was shared by new best friends and close-by neighbors, David and Allison Lewis. The couples moved back to their home town and each bought their parents' houses in a show of regeneration and renewal, proving that sometimes you can go home and the best moves are the ones that are the most familiar.

