If I Know It's Coming

By Nick Hupton

Thirteen-year-old Tim Hansen lives in a quaint little neighborhood in South Minneapolis. For the most part, he leads a normal, preteen existence. He is concerned about friendships, girls, sports, and even schoolwork from time to time. But when his mother, who is a nurse in the United States Army Reserve, is deployed to Iraq, Tim’s relatively normal and happy existence gets flipped upside down. How will Tim cope without his mother? Will his family ever be the same? Middle school was unpredictable enough, but when Tim faces this sudden dose of mortality, the adventure is just beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: North Star Press of St. Cloud
• Release date: Jun 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9780878398652

Nick Hupton

Nick Hupton received his BA from Gustavus Adolphus College in 1999 and his MA from Hamline University in 2008. He teaches high school English in Bloomington, Minnesota. Stone Ridge is Nick's third novel for young people. He lives in Minneapolis with his wife, Tara, and two children.

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Copyright © 2012 Nick Hupton

Cover image: Gina Hupton

ISBN 978-0-87839-601-6 (Print)

ISBN 978-0-87839-865-2 (Electronic)

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Edition: June 2012

Electronic Edition: June 2012

Published by

North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.

P.O. Box 451

St. Cloud, Minnesota 56302

www.northstarpress.com

Facebook - North Star Press

To all military families, who don’t always know what’s coming.

Acknowledgements

The creation of this book was not a solo venture. A special thank you goes to Mary Logue, who guided me through every step of this process. Her expertise, advice, and encouragement have helped make this dream come true. The honest critiques of Swati Avasthi, Brian Farrey, and Charlotte Sullivan, my first writing group, allowed me to see the early flaws, but also the apparent potential of this project.

Steve Maguire and all of those at Walter Reed Medical Center were helpful and informative. Their insights were invaluable to the writing of this book.

Everyone at North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc., took a chance on this book when I wasn’t sure if anyone else would. I am forever in debt to them for this.

To my sister, Gina, for her wonderful artwork and creative insights. They are phenomenal.

Finally, a special thanks goes to my wife, Tara for her unconditional support. Her patience and encouragement has allowed me to pursue this lifelong dream.

Thank you.

Chapter One

If I know it’s coming, I can catch it. That’s what I always told my dad after my Little League baseball games. Most of the time I warmed up with my friend Seth before every game, and I almost never dropped a ball, but when I was manning second base, it was a different story.

My dad came to every game, which was nice, but I could feel him watching me. I’d hear the crack of the bat and see the ball bouncing every which way, knowing that my dad was cringing at the possibility that the ball might go under, over, beside, or even through my glove. About half the time that was what it did. Other times I stared down that ball for what seemed like a week, stuck out my glove, closed at least one eye, and felt its roundness slam snugly into my trusty mitt. In other words, I’d get lucky.

I love baseball. I was just not that good at it. I’m not the world’s worst ball player, but let’s just say I won’t be getting the call up to the majors anytime soon.

I do remember a game last season when only two routine ground balls swallowed me up at second base, and I actually got a couple of hits. Granted, they were both weakly hit singles, but they were hits nonetheless. My second hit of the evening was a true screamer that barely rolled past the pitcher. The shortstop on the opposing team was about fifty pounds overweight and couldn’t snare that blazing shot, so I was able to beat it out. As I ran down the first base line, I could hear my dad screaming from the metal bleachers, Run, Timmy! Run!

God. Timmy? I hated it when he called me Timmy. I was thirteen years old. Timmy was a name for a five-year-old.

Don’t get me wrong. My dad came to watch my games no matter how many times a ball hit me in the face or a curve ball made me fall down in the batter’s box. He was always there. My mom used to come too. She wouldn’t yell as much, but that wasn’t her style. Sometimes I’d look up and see her long, red hair under her white baseball cap. She always wore a baseball cap to my games. I think that was her way of cheering. She’d sit in those creaky bleachers with a smile on her face, and clap when our team actually did something good. My dad towered over her, but I knew she was there. Now it was just him.

That changed late last April. We had just played our second game of the year. After the game my dad congratulated my buddy Seth and me. My dad had always been a pretty imposing guy—really tall, like six-foot-two. When he spoke his voice echoed so everyone within a twenty-mile radius could hear him. He didn’t sound mean, just in control. I guessed that was the lawyer in him.

I was pretty excited because we’d actually won the game, mainly because our opponents, the Cubs, were even worse than we were. The week before they got beat 16 to 1 and the other team only had seven players show up.

Way to go guys! my dad said. You both played really well tonight.

Thanks Dad, I said.

Thanks, Mr. Hansen! It’s really nice of you to come to the game, Seth replied. Seth had a knack for sucking up to those individuals he thought might be in the Seth business one day. My dad was a successful lawyer in the Twin Cities area, so he definitely qualified. Seth’s teachers, Coach Swenson, the umpires at our games, Mr. Haskins, the manager of the Super America down the street from Seth’s house, and my big sister Jenna were all potential contributors to the Seth Michaelson may want something from you someday fund.

Seth is one of those guys one would expect to see on an infomercial for some new money-making scheme. He had this perfectly shaped sandy brown hair that never seems to move and this cheesy grin that he was able to conjure up if he saw the opportunity.

Those of us who had been around him long enough knew that that grin was like a mask he carried that he could slide on whenever he needed it. People like my dad didn’t seem to see the mask, or maybe they choose not to.

Take the case of my sister Jenna, for example. Seth had put the mask on pretty much every day since he laid eyes on her when we were eight and she was eleven. He had been in love with her ever since. On Halloween two years ago, for instance, we were going out trick-or-treating, and Seth was coming over to my house first. I tried to get him to tell me what his costume was going to be, but he managed to keep it a secret for weeks. When I opened the door he was standing there, dressed as a medieval prince, his fists on his hips, leaning back slightly like he had just slain a dragon. But there was more to his costume than just tights and a sword. On his chest was Jenna’s school picture blown up. Next to it Seth had written, Princess. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to let him in. Jenna was right there in the living room.

As we walked into the house I tried to stay in front of him so she wouldn’t see the picture, but he maneuvered his way around me. Hi, Jenna, he said sticking his chest out.

Oh … my … God! said Jenna. Seth, you need to get a life. Then she got up from the couch and calmly walked up the stairs. It didn’t bother Seth though. He just stood there grinning and proud. Jenna, to this day, still leaves the room whenever Seth comes over.

So after our win and because it was Friday, my dad let me stay over at Seth’s house after the game. I wore my baseball uniform over to Seth’s—it wasn’t like it was that dirty. Plus, I would wear the hat anyway. I almost always wore a hat to cover up my ridiculous hair. It was what some people might call red, but it really wasn’t red at all. My hair was that orangey color—the kind of orange that made the sun jealous. And it was scratchy, so I never liked touching it because it was always ’froing up and getting all frizzy. That’s why I wore a hat. I was pretty normal otherwise, just as long as I kept that flame-thrower I called my head covered up.

Seth lived a few blocks from me in South Minneapolis on the east side of Lake Nokomis. I was glad I wasn’t going home. I’d just sit around. It would probably just be my dad and me. I was sure my sister would be out with her boyfriend, Josh. Jenna didn’t hang out at home that often. Seth had no problem bringing that to my attention when he came over. Hey, is your sister around? he’d ask. When I told him she wasn’t, he’d go into twenty questions about where she was, who she was with, and whether or not he should ask her out.

I was happy not to be spending the night at home, but I also knew I would have to spend most of the night sitting in Seth’s room watching him play his stupid video games. He knew I hated playing them, but it never seemed to matter. He’d break out Halo or Grand Theft Auto, and I’d sit there watching and listening to him making those ridiculous byoom, byoom laser noises. Most of the time I would try to entertain myself by staring at the posters on his wall. I had gotten to be pretty good friends with Al Pacino and Seth’s favorite band, Greenday. They didn’t talk, but they paid more attention to me than Seth did.

As much as I enjoyed the companionship of such talented and famous individuals, I would much rather have been watching Cheers. That night they were airing the one when Sam sent Norm, Woody, Cliff, and Carla out to South Dakota to get back at them for a prank they played on him earlier. God, that Sam Malone was a genius.

After an hour of watching Seth blow up evil creatures and shoot policemen, I’d had about enough. What are we going to do tonight? I asked harshly.

Without taking his eyes of the screen, he said, I don’t know. What do you want to do? As Seth was finishing his sentence, we heard his mom yelling at him from downstairs in the kitchen.

What?!? he screamed, as if she was interrupting something important.

I made some cookies! Do you and Tim want some? Seth’s mom knew not to call me Timmy. At the very sound of the word cookies, Seth and I flew down the stairs, skipping over three or four steps at a time by swinging down the banister.

Thanks, Mrs. Michaelsen, I said politely. Seth just grabbed a couple of cookies and ran back upstairs without saying a word.

You’re welcome, Tim. Mrs. Michaelsen was one of the nicest people I knew. As far as I was concerned she was Mrs. Cleaver, but with a personality. Sometimes I couldn’t believe the way Seth treated her. I walked back upstairs to find Seth plopped in front of his video games again.

That was pretty cool of your mom.

Yeah, he said. The TV screen hypnotized his face. I felt like I needed to say some sort of key word to snap him out of his hypnotic trance.

I didn’t think Seth knew how nice it was to have a mom who baked chocolate chip cookies for him. Sometimes my mom would bake cookies too, but for a few months of my seventh grade year, I didn’t bother looking in the cookie jar.

Chapter Two

My mom was a nurse in the United States Army Reserve. I would never forget the day she told us that she was going to war. The war in Iraq had been going on for over eight years. In the back of my mind, I wondered if there was a chance she might have to go there, but as time went on and publicity of the war dwindled, I didn’t think it would happen. It wasn’t until my parents told Jenna and me that it became a reality.

Our living room was the setting for many family discussions, some pleasant and some not so pleasant. One time Mom and Dad called me in to ground me for sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to be with Seth. Apparently Seth’s mom found out and called my parents. Nice of Seth to let me know about that. I was completely unprepared, and they were both very pissed. I didn’t get to leave the house for three weeks.

But other times the living room brought about nice surprises … Tim! Mom yelled to me as I was climbing down the stairs.

Coming, Mama, I said peering into the living room. Mom and Dad were on the couch and Jenna was sitting on the floor. I was six.

How would you like to go to California this summer? my dad said with a smile. Disneyland?

A big grin overtook my face and I clapped my hands. Disneyland was a lot of fun. (I had never been there before, but it was a land where Disney was. How could it not be fun?)

This living room meeting, however, was different than all the rest. It was early September. The mood was tense, like Mom and Dad had a secret.

My parents were on the couch, sitting very close and holding hands. Jenna

Reviews for If I Know It's Coming

[erleen_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

If I Know It's Coming is a preteen contemporary novel about Tim Hansen, an ordinary middle school kid who loves to play baseball, and how he and his family's life changed when his mom, a nurse in the US Army Reserve, was deployed to Iraq.I thought, at first, that this was going to be a heavy read for me but I was wrong. Tim welcomed me into their story with warmth and with such ease as if his just telling it to a close friend whom he didn't see in a long time. I instantly feel like I know them which makes it easier for me to understand what they are experiencing.Every flashbacks that Tim recalled, showed how much he misses his mom and his normal life. I can't stop myself from feeling sad for him. Kids at that age shouldn't be burden with such problem. They shouldn't worry about their love ones being in the middle of a war. But aside from feeling sorry for Tim, I also admired his character. His emotionally strong for his age and I think, he handled his problems quite well. He just needed someone to talk to and I'm glad Nicole was there for him. Indeed, hard times show you who your real friends are.If I Know, It's Coming is not just about worrying about our love ones who are far away, it's more about finding our real friends who will stay with us even in the bad times, it's about the bond that keeps us as a family, and it's about the happy memories we shared with them.It is very relatable. I highly recommend this to everyone!