The Photograph (Eastbrook 1)

Chapter 3

During the first two weeks of practice, Rachel worked hard every day. Most days she was on the court shooting before practice. She finished first on the ladder sprints, and she listened to her coaches. All her hard work earned her a spot with the starting lineup in the first scrimmage of the season. 

Normally, she would be excited—even nervous—about the scrimmage and the opportunity to prove herself. But it was Veteran’s Day—a day where her focus was on her father, not basketball. 

For as long as Rachel could remember, Veteran’s Day had been a tense and dark day. Papa and Nana believed in celebrating the day as a tribute to the bravery and sacrifice of their son, but Rachel didn’t see the rituals of the day as celebrating—more like mourning. Robbie Brandt was the center of the conversation and the focus of a day that included rituals like looking through photo albums, reading his letters, and visiting his grave. On Veteran’s Day, the Brandt family recognized the life and death of her father. 

Rachel trudged through the school day. During class, she brainstormed ways to get out of celebrating Veteran’s Day, knowing there was no way out of one of the day’s rituals: a trip to the cemetery before the basketball scrimmage.

Rachel pushed through the crowd of students at the end of the school day. She needed to be at the gym at five for the scrimmage. With a half-hour drive to the cemetery and another half-hour drive to return to school, it was a tight window, but Papa and Nana had assured Rachel they would get her back on time. 

Papa and Nana were waiting by the door when Rachel arrived home. She hurried upstairs, changed into her basketball clothes, and packed up her shoes and practice jersey. Her stomach was rumbling on her way out, so she swiped a granola bar on the way to Papa’s truck. 

The half-hour car ride to the cemetery passed in silence. Rachel watched the landscape turn from neighborhoods of tightly packed houses to a sprawl of fields and farms. Papa didn’t slow down as the road winded up and down, left and right. By the time they arrived at the cemetery, Rachel was grateful her granola bar had stayed in her stomach. 

The rush of cool, fresh air soothed Rachel’s stomach. The cemetery was quiet; she guessed the cold day kept people away this Veteran’s Day. They walked to her father’s grave in the veterans’ section of the cemetery to start their rituals. All the graves in the section were decorated with flowers, and many had American flags. 

First, Nana placed white lilies on the grave, and Papa placed a small American flag next to the lilies. All three sat in silence for a few minutes. Papa broke the silence by thanking his son for his service to his country. Nana and Rachel followed his lead. Nana closed with a prayer. When Nana finished praying, she and Rachel returned to the truck. Papa stayed at his son’s grave. When he stood up, his face was flushed. Rachel took his place. 

Rachel sat on the grass next to her father’s grave. She looked at the clouds in the sky and wondered if her father watched over her like her grandparents always said. She had a hard time believing them. The questions began circling in her head. What if my father had come home from the war? What if I’d grown up in a normal family? Would I be happier with a mother and a father? The questions that plagued her mind on Veteran’s Day were the worst kind of questions—questions with no answers. 

She felt the emotion of it all rising in her chest. She couldn’t let the questions get the best of her. Not right now. There was too much at stake with basketball. She got up and walked back to the car.

Nana walked to the grave and blew a kiss before returning to the truck. Rachel looked at her watch. Time to go. She looked at Papa; he nodded. Without saying a word, they got into the car. They had forty minutes to get to Eastbrook High.