Free Bobby the Brave (Sometimes) by Lisa Yee Page B

that, I had that job, remember?”
    Bobby nodded. The Freezer had been the spokesman for a chain of sporting good stores, but hadn’t been very good at it and was let go.
    â€œWell, when your mom and I decided that I would become a stay-at-home dad, I thought, ‘Now here’s something I can do really well!’ I knew I couldn’t get fired from that job and I was determined to be the best stay-at-home dad ever. That’s why when I cook, I don’t just make plain pancakes, I make apple banana crunch pancakes! Instead of meat loaf, I make fish and hamburger loaf! And instead of spaghetti and meatballs, I make meatballs filled with spaghetti….”
    â€œUm, Dad?” Bobby interrupted. “You know what? Plain is fine. We don’t mind.”
    â€œReally?” His father looked surprised. “Because, honestly, that would be easier.” He gave it some thought. “Hey, if I spend less time in the kitchen, I could spend more time with you. We could go outside and …”
    Before his father could say, “play football,” Bobby cut in. Now was the time to tell him. “Dad, um, maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m not the greatest at football. I mean, I’m not like you, or even Annie. But I know you already know that. I heard you say it.”
    â€œSay what?” his father asked, looking confused.
    Bobby’s throat was dry, but his eyes began to water. “That day that I took a dive to avoid getting hit by Annie’s pass,” he said, gathering his courage. “Later, as I was doing an ollie and you were doing push-ups, I heard you talking about me to Annie. You told her, ‘He’s not like me.’ And then she said, ‘That’s for sure.’”
    There. Bobby had said it. It felt good to have gotten it out, but rotten at the same time. He knew his father would never fire him, but when Mr. Ellis-Chan didn’t say anything, Bobby worried that his dad might want to trade him to another team.
    â€œSon,” Mr. Ellis-Chan said gently. Bobby looked up. His father didn’t look angry or disgusted; instead, he looked concerned. “What I was telling Annie was that I was proud of you. I could never skateboard as well as you. All those tricks you can do — they amaze me. I’m so big and clumsy on a skateboard…. I’m not like you.”
    Bobby was speechless. That was what his father meant?
    â€œBut — but,” Bobby stammered, “I thought you were ashamed that I’m not big and strong like you, and that I’m horrible at football.”
    Mr. Ellis-Chan mussed up Bobby’s hair. “You’ve still got a lot of growing ahead of you. I was small when I was your age.”
    â€œYou were?” Bobby asked.

    His father nodded. “Bobby,” he said, “I don’t expect you to be a football player, and I wouldn’t want you to be one.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t?”
    â€œNot unless you really wanted to.”
    â€œYes, but you’re so proud that Annie’s the quarterback.”
    â€œI am proud,” Mr. Ellis-Chan said, “because that’s what she wants to do. Annie has worked really hard to achieve her goal. But I’m proud of you too.”
    â€œWhy?” Bobby asked. “We’re so different.”
    â€œWell, how much time do you have?” his dad quipped. “You’re a great big brother to Casey. I don’t know anyone who could be as patient with her as you are.” Bobby nodded. That was true. “And you have a lot of friends.” Bobby nodded again. “Plus, your skateboarding is amazing. I am in awe of what you can do. And, I admit, I am slightly jealous of Troy Eagle.”
    â€œYou are?” This surprised Bobby.
    â€œSure,” his dad admitted. “I mean, you have that huge Troy Eagle poster in your room, and you talk about him all the time. I know you really look up to him and that