Erin Yun - Pippa Park Raises Her Game

PIPPA PARK RAISES HER GAME

PIPPA PARK RAISES HER GAME

Erin Yun

Fabled Films Press

New York

Copyright 2020 by Fabled Films LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Fabled Films LLC, 200 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10003.

Published by Fabled Films LLC, New York

ISBN: 978-1-944020-26-2

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019939139

First Edition: February 2020

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Cover Designed by Jaime Mendola-Hobbie

Jacket Art by Bev Johnson

Interior Book Design by Notion Studio

Text set in Zilla Slab

Printed by Everbest in China

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That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life.

Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

To those who opened this book:
I am happy you are here.

Contents

THE STRANGE ENCOUNTER

I was the only person in the park.

Tucking a damp strand of hair back behind one ear, I surveyed the abandoned slides and empty benches. It was just past six p.m. on a Friday, but it looked like nobody else wanted to be out in the rain. As I strode briskly forward, icy wind numbed the tips of my fingers, making me clutch my basketball tighter. Even though we hadnt officially left summer behind, the cold front that had settled over Victoria, Massachusetts, didnt show any signs of leaving.

So empty court. Lousy weather. And things at home were just as dismal.

My older sister, Mina, had just grilled me for nearly an hour after finding out about the unacceptable grade I had received on my latest algebra quiz. When she finally finished, I stormed out of the apartment, making sure to grab my basketball and a water bottle; I planned on being gone awhile. Now I kind of wished that I had taken a warmer jacket, too. Or at least a hat. But rain or shine, I wasnt ready to go home yet.

I headed past the playground equipment, where the swings swayed back and forth, their rusted metal chain-links creaking in the wind, a chilling noise that made me look twice over my shoulder as I passed them. The basketball court was just up ahead, hemmed in by the line of dense trees that marked the start of Grey Woods. The woods were named for some rich guy who had given the land to the town back in the last century, but on a day like today the name was eerily appropriate. In the drizzle and fog, the shadowy, thick trunks made me uneasy.

Rotating the ball between my stiff, raw hands, I stepped onto the centerline. I inhaled deeply and felt my back muscles start to relax. Basketball did that for me every time. I dribbled my ball toward the hoop. As I concentrated on the way the ball felt bouncing against the tips of my fingers, thoughts of impossible algebra problems and my nagging sister faded from my mind. Every movement felt natural, like the ball wasnt something outside my body but a part of it.

I headed to the free-throw line, dribbled twice, and sent the ball arcing toward the hoop. Swish. Nothing but net. It was one of the most satisfying things in the world to watch the ball whoosh through that hoopand, not to brag or anything, but I was good at it. Actually, I was more than good; I was great.

Which was why I needed to get back on the school team. I had managed to make it on my first trya big deal for a sixth graderand by the end of last year, Id been on the starting lineup for every game. My plan for this year had been to become the teams star player. But that dream had died quickly after my math grades dipped last spring, and Mina barred me from rejoining the team.

Her husband, Jung-Hwa, had gently tried to talk her out of itbut Mina nearly bit his head off. The best I could do was get her to agree that if I got better grades this year, shed think about it. But a D on my first quiz today had sealed my fate.

Swish, swish, swish.

Not to mention, she had Omma on her side. Thats my mom, Ji-Min. Although I had been born in the U.S., my mom wasnt a citizen, and she hadnt been able to renew her work visa when it expired around my fifth birthday. So shed left me here with my sister and Jung-Hwa. But even though she lives back in South Korea, Omma still rules my life with her strong Korean fist. When Mina tells her about my latest scholastic failure, I'll definitely get a brutal lecture. No distance, not even 7,000 miles, can make Omma any less intimidating.

At the thought of that phone call, my concentration broke, and the ball rebounded off the edge of the rim at a wild angle and bounced into the woods. There went my streak. With a sigh, I peered into the darkening trees. The rain clouds made it hard to tell how late it was, but I thought I must have been playing for at least an hour.

A gust of wind swept across the desolate court and whipped at the swings, which began screeching once again. I frowned; I should call Mina. I had left without telling her where I was going or when Id be back, and that was never a good thing, especially when she was already mad at me.

I reached into my left pocket for my phone, but it wasnt there. It wasnt in my right one either. Of course. In storming out, I had forgotten to bring it. What else could go wrong? I took a long swig from my water bottle then set it down and headed after my ball.

I jogged across the court, but at the edge of the woods I skidded to a stop. A tall, hooded figure lurked among the trees.

The stranger took a step toward me. And then another. And another. My mouth opened and I felt a scream welling up, but all that came out was a little squeak.

People always say that in situations of high stress, youre supposed to have a fight-or-flight reaction. Not me. The stranger came closer but instead of sprinting in the opposite direction, I froze. Apparently, in addition to struggling with algebra, I was also screwing up the stranger danger lessons Mina had been drilling into my head since kindergarten. There was a state prison right outside town what if this was an escaped convict? A murderer? Was I going to be the next victim of an escaped convict murderer?

The mans forest-green hoodie shadowed his face. He held my basketball in one hand and a bulky black casenarrow at the front and wider at the backin the other. What did he have stashed in the case? The remains of his last victim?

Please dont hurt me, I blurted out. Mina would kill me if I, well, died.

The stranger stopped short. And then, with an annoyed huff, he held out my ball to me. Thats when I realized that the mysterious figure was a teenage boyand probably too young to be a seasoned killer. Underneath the green hoodie, there was a slight roundness to his acne-scarred face that made me think he couldnt be older than seventeen.

Take your basketball, he commanded as he set the black case on the ground. His voice sounded a little froggy, like he had a cold.

For the first time, we locked eyes. By this point, my vision had adjusted to the dark, and I could see that his eyes were an intense hazel shade.

Thank you, I said automatically. Mina had always taught me to say please and thank you, and although I wasnt sure what the rules on politeness were regarding mysterious strangers, some habits were hard to shake. Still slightly wary, I took the ball and clutched it against my ribcage.