An unexpected encounter changed his life for the better.

Meet the Kids Who Will Change Everything: Origin Stories from the Young Adult Novel The Great American Eagle Hunt. Before there was a team, there were five kids with five very different stories. Over the next several weeks, we’re telling them, one by one. Meet with Arnav Patel.

Seattle, Washington, Queen Anne High School, June 1, 1999, Saturday morning 9:00am.

EARLY SUMMER

Middle School has been out for eight weeks and Arnav settles into a comfortable new life. He meets regularly with the boys from middle school; Deepak, Kamal, and Ashwin. In fact, his entire social life now revolves around these boys and their families. As part of the Indian community, they socialize together, go to church together and celebrate holidays together. They even play Cricket together. It’s not high stakes league play that Arnav craves, but he’ll take a game any time he can get it. Usually, a casual game develops when all of the families get together for a picnic. Teams are made up of young and old, making the competition much more casual.

But, on this specific Saturday, Arnav has the day free to himself. He wakes up early, puts on his Cricket training uniform, grabs his equipment bag and bat and heads out. He rides his bike to Queen Anne High School. This time of day as well as the school year being over, the four-building campus is abandoned. Perfect. He rides his bike around to the back of the old gymnasium; a tall red brick building built in the 1950’s. He’s not sure what the building is used for now. But he knows he’ll learn when he starts attending this high school in the fall. The back of the old gymnasium has a large blank wall, perfect for his Cricket training regimen.

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First is foot defense. He pulls from his equipment bag a small rubber cone, much like a miniature traffic cone, except barely 6 inches tall. He places a leather Cricket ball on top of the cone and takes his stance. He squares up and his left hip and body face the empty brick wall. With his left foot forward, he starts to step towards the cone and ball. He drops his shoulders, keeping them straight but angled towards the ball. A twist of the torso and he begins his swing, bringing the bat flat edge at the ball. But he stops short, not hitting the ball. This isn’t an exercise in hitting the ball. It’s an exercise in perfecting his form. If his form isn’t perfect, he’ll have no control over where the ball goes. Even though every game he has played since he moved here has been a casual pick-up game at a picnic, Arnav still insists on keeping his form and skills at top level. He is confident that he will eventually find his team. He repeats the drill one hundred times in a row, working though sweat, muscle fatigue and loneliness.

For the next drill, he pulls out nine more cones and balls from his equipment bag. The cones vary in high from a few inches high to waist high. He sets the cones in a semi-circle around him and then on the top of each cone, he rests a Cricket ball. This will simulate the varying ball positions that will come his way during a match, inside, outside, high and low.

Arnav gets back into his batting stance, his muscles complaining. But he pushes though. He steps forward and smacks the first ball 20 meters, 66 feet, the standard length of a Cricket pitch. Once Arnav makes contact, he sprints toward the old gymnasium wall, tapping the base of the wall with his bat, turning and sprinting back to his original position. It’s not the best practice conditions, but he’ll make do with what he has. With no rest, he sets back into his batting stance and smacks another ball off its cone. With no hesitation, pushing through the fatigue he sprints again to the old gymnasium wall, taps the ground with his back, turns and pivots for the return sprint.

As he turns and starts a sprint back. But he stops in surprise. At the other end of the practice pitch next to Arnav’s equipment bag is a boy on a bike; standing there watching him. The first thing Arnav notices is that the boy on the bike is bald. Cue ball smooth bald. He’s never met a kid who shaved his entire head before. The second thing he notices is the bike. Stickers cover every available inch of the red bike frame. The Clash, The New York Dolls, The Replacements, The Ramones, The Dead Boys. Arnav has no idea what any of these stickers mean. But they must mean something to this boy.

“Sorry,” Arnav said. “I thought it would be ok to practice here. I can leave.”

“No need to leave,” the boy said. “It’s cool. That looks like a tough workout,” the boy says tossing the ball underhand back to Arnav.

“Yeah,” Arnav says. “I want to keep my skills up.”

“Is that Cricket?” The boy asks. “I’ve never seen an actual game. It looks tough. Are you in a league?” He asks.

“No,” Arnav replies. “Not yet. I’m still looking for one.”

“And you’re still training? That’s dedication. You must be a team captain. Hey, if you’re not in a league, you should start one. Make the change you want to see,” the boy says. “Do you go to school here? I haven’t seen you around.”

“Not yet,” Arnav replies. “I will start in the fall.”

“Freshman!” The boy exclaims. “Great! That’s the perfect time to start new things. It’s the best way to meet new people and make new friends. By the way, my name’s Danny.” The boy stuck out his hand, offering a handshake. Arnav jogged up to meet the boy and shook his hand.

“I am Arnav,” he replies. “It is nice to meet you. I hope I wasn’t disturbing you with my practice.”

“Not at all,” Danny replies. I’m just here to check on some equipment in our Scout Shack.”

“Scout shack?” Arnav asks.

“Yeah, it’s an old gymnasium. But nobody ever uses it anymore. So, the school lets our Boy Scout Troop use the space for meetings and storing equipment.” Danny hops off his bike, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a key. “I need to check that our equipment manager Kyle properly put away the gear they used on a camp trip last weekend. Fifty bucks says he didn’t. Hey, are you interested in scouting? We’re always looking for new members.”

“I was involved in Bharat Scouts when I lived in India,” Arnav replies.

“Perfect! Then you can fit in here perfectly,” Danny exclaims.

“I’ll think about it,” Arnav says. “I’ll check with my friends”

“Perfect. Bring them along. Next Saturday we are having an event. It’s like an Open House. Anyone who is interested can come here and check out our meeting space, see how a meeting runs; we’ll also have a few scouting activities. You’ll get the whole experience. We’ll also have a barbecue. Hamburgers, hot dogs, the works.”

“Thank you, but I am vegetarian,” Arnav says, expecting to be mocked again.

“Right, sorry, my bad,” Danny says. “I wasn’t thinking. If you come and bring some friends, I’ll make sure there are some good options for you, I’ll even try to make it myself.”

“Really, you would do that for us?” Arnav asks.

“Yep. That’s my job. I’m the Sr. Patrol Leader here. It’s my job to make everyone included and advancing properly. I’ll make sure you get signed up and get a good patrol.”

“Thank you. I’ll check with my friends. I’m not sure if they will be interested.”

“That’s cool. If they are not into it, you can come by yourself.”

“By myself?” Arnav asks stunned.

“Sure, it will be a good way to expand your group of friends.”

“Expand my group of friends?” Arnav thought to himself. “I never thought of that.” And it hit Arnav like a smack to the head with a Cricket ball. For the past six months, he’s been hanging out with his Indian friends. And they are great. But he hasn’t been pushing himself. It’s been safe. He thought back to the letter in his desk his best friend Rohan sent him: Don’t make yourself small” “Is that what I’ve been doing?” He asked himself.

“I promised myself I would embrace this adventure here in America. But for the past few months I’ve been hiding where it is safe.”

“Ok,” Arnav says. “I will come, with or without my friends.

“Good,” Danny says. “But there is one condition for you to join.”

“What’s the condition?” Arnav asks.

Danny hops off his bike. “You have to teach me how to hit with that thing,” he says pointing to Arnav’s Cricket bat.

“That’s a deal,” Arnav says, smiling.

For the next 90 minutes Arnav attempted to teach Danny all he needed to know about the game of Cricket. They worked on hitting stances, foot work, ball handling, and fielding. It was rough and awkward, and Danny needed to take many breaks. He noticed the bald head boy had very low stamina and became short of breath easily. But in the end, it was a day filled with laughter and the unexpected excitement of a new friendship he never expected.

Arnav walked home that afternoon, he pledged to himself “No more being small.”

You’re Reading: The Road to the Eagle Hunt: Origin Stories from The Great American Eagle Hunt. Arnav didn’t know it yet, but the team he was looking for was already being built.

While he was finding his footing in Seattle, other kids across the country were going through their own defining moments. Each of them would eventually find their way to the same troop, the same challenge, and the same impossible mission.

This is a five-part origin story series. Each installment stands alone, but together they tell you everything you need to know about the young man part of The Great American Eagle Hunt, before the adventure even begins.

Arnav Patel | Seattle, WA | 1998–1999

• Part 1 — The Last Game He Would Ever Play for India
• Part 2 — Nobody Told Him That Fitting In Would Cost Him Everything
• Part 3 — The Bald Kid on the Sticker-Covered Bike Changed Everything
• Part 4 — They Gave Him Bad Rope, a Torn Tarp, and Rigged the Game. He Won Anyway.
• Part 5 — One by One, His Friends Quit. Then He Did Too.
  
  
  
  More origin stories are here. Over the coming weeks and months, meet the other young men whose paths are about to collide, each one carrying a story that shaped who they became when it mattered most.
  The Great American Eagle Hunt, the novel these characters call home, is available soon.
  
  If this story moved you, share it with someone who may enjoy it. Forward this post. Send the link. Tag a Scout, a parent, a teacher, or anyone who still believes the right story finds you at the right time.— Joe Paul, Author