”’Editor’s Note: Prometheus Rebounds is written by Bill Danks, a former Hawaii resident and Social Studies and Creative Writing teacher at Maryknoll Schools, who was named Economics Teacher of the Year in 1981 by the Hawaii Joint Council on Economics Education. Danks also won three playwriting awards from the Kumu Kahua theatre group, had staged readings at Kennedy Theatre and the UH Art Auditorium, as well as the Hawaii Literary Arts Council’s conference “From Script to Screen.” He received Special Recognition for Excellence in Screenwriting at the first Hawaii International Film Festival, had poetry published in Hawaii Review and Ramrod, wrote for local Hawaii radio, television, and papers such as Sun Bums, and was a finalist in the screenplay competition at the Philadelphia Film Festival in 2003. His current book was named the Freedom Book of the Month for February 2004 by the The Henry Hazlitt Foundation. DEEP SONG, his second book, will be published in 2005. Prometheus Rebounds may be ordered for $15.95 online at http://www.Amazon.com or at http://www.Borders.com directly from Borders Personal Publishing (Pam Durant) at 1-(866) 954-2747 or through any Borders store (ISBN number 1-4134-3832-6). Hawaii Reporter is serializing this novel, beginning next week. One chapter will appear each Wednesday. To reach the author, write to Bill Danks at mailto:NovaZorro@aol.com”’

The tables in the schoolyard were still set up the next day, but the lines had almost disappeared. Most of those who wanted to sign up for camp had already done so. Prometheus had the basketball table all to himself. Behind it sat a young teacher he’d never seen before.

“Name?” she asked without even looking up.

“Uh…I just have a question.”

“So do I. What’s your name?”

“Prometheus…Prometheus Go, but I–“

“Social Security number?”

“I just want to find out how much the camp cost!”

That did it. She finally glanced up and looked him over. Her glasses kept slipping down her nose. “Three hundred and fifty dollars per week. There’s a ten percent discount if you sign up for all eight weeks and pay in advance.”

“Wow! That’s an awful lot,” he said.

She scanned some more papers on the table in front of her, then she smirked. “Obviously not too much for someone like you. You’re paid up in full for the whole summer.”

“No I’m not.”

“Take a look,” she said, pointing to a line on one of the
papers. “Cash transfer made late last night.”

“Who made it?”

“It doesn’t seem to say,” she mumbled, checking the papers once again.

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

She shrugged. Then she handed him a thick packet. “This contains your receipt, plus information on scheduling, transportation, and everything else you need to know.”

“What I need to know,” he said, “is who could’ve done this for me. Who even knew that I–“

Gaia cried when he told her the story and showed her the packet. She said she just knew something good was going to happen. She always did believe in miracles. That’s how she saw the camp. As a miracle. As another chance for her son to get into college. The packet detailed the very thing Helen had mentioned to him — how there were special scholarships given to the players who really excelled in the summer basketball program. Of course Gaia would have preferred him going to college on an academic scholarship, like the one he’d had, but the important thing was the going. Now there was at least the possibility that might still happen.

Then Prometheus told her he really didn’t want to go to the stupid camp. She stopped crying. She looked at him like he was crazy. Didn’t he realize this was the last chance he had of going to college, at least for that year? That’s when he told her he didn’t know if he really even wanted to go to college at all.

For just an instant he thought she was going to hit him. She’d never done that before. Neither had his father. But right then, for a split/second he really thought it was a distinct possibility. Then the moment passed and she started crying again. Much more softly and quietly this time. With her face turned away from him.

It was Emiko who hit him. Hard. With her open hand across the back of his head. She screamed too. And cursed. And stomped her foot and shook her fists at him. It was strange. He thought she’d kind of be on his side since the reason he didn’t want to go to camp or college was so that he could stay home and help out in the restaurant.

That didn’t impress her at all. First, she said, he never really helped out all that much even when he did put in time at the restaurant. Second, she argued that if he really wanted to help out he’d go to camp, then to college, and then make something of himself. Third, she said how nice it would be to simply get rid of him for a few months…or years.

Athena, on the other hand, confessed that she’d miss him terribly if he went away, but even she still thought he should go. So it turned out to be unanimous. He was going to camp. But there was somewhere else to which he was definitely going to go first.

A few little kids were trying to shoot baskets when he arrived back at the playground. He didn’t see Hobie so he asked the kids if they’d seen an old man hanging around…a strange looking one-eyed old man dressed entirely in black. The kids all giggled. They had no idea who he was talking about. He was just about to leave when he thought of the trash bin. Sure enough, there was a note taped to the inside of the lid. It read, ” have a good time at the camp. I sure as hell intend to have one on my vacation.”

Prometheus just couldn’t figure him. Hobie was the strangest
person he’d ever met. There were times when he thought that magic of his must be some kind of illusion or hypnosis or something. It just couldn’t be real. Everybody knew there’s no such thing as that.

Real magic. Yet, there were times like now when Hobie had obviously done the impossible, and there were other times — especially when he got out that mysterious blue globe that he insisted was a basketball–when Prometheus was convinced that Hobie

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