Schooled Page 6

“Yeah, you better,” said Isaac.

  I leaned over the top of the seat. “Yo, Isaac,” I said. “Could you switch with me for a minute?”

  He looked back at me like I had glow-in-the-dark bugs crawling out of my ears. Neither one of them had said a word to me after the game — even though it was Isaac’s miss I’d cleaned up on that put-back.

  Finally, Deek shrugged. “Whatever,” he said.

  Isaac got up and we swapped seats quickly. The bus driver and the Sarge both shouted at us at the same time. But by the time Coach turned around, we were both sitting down in our new seats, acting like nothing had happened.

  I knew I didn’t have much time, so I got right down to it. “No offense, man, but you’re doing it wrong.”

  “Doing what wrong?” he said, his eyes narrowing.

  “Studying,” I said.

  He looked a little shocked, maybe even angry. For a second, I seriously thought I’d gone too far. His shoulders were tensed up like he was mad. But then they dropped. “You’re probably right,” he said. “There’s so much homework this year. I’m getting crushed.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen you spread out all those books and just, like, look at ’em. You’ve got to divide and conquer.”

  “Divide?” he said. “You mean my math homework?”

  “No, all of it,” I said. “You’ve got to focus on one subject at a time and check things off your list.”

  I waited to see if he was still with me. He nodded, so I went on.

  “Say you’ve got homework in three subjects — not just reading, but stuff you’ve got to hand in. You can look at it all and get kind of overwhelmed, right?”

  He nodded again.

  “Right, so just do the first thing. Doesn’t matter which, but I like to save my favorite subject, or maybe just the easiest assignment, for last. Anyway, you just take out what you need for that one subject, and you power through.”

  The light came halfway on in his eyes. “And then you’ve only got two subjects left,” he said.

  “Right, and the last one is the easiest!”

  “So it’s not one big mess.”

  “Yeah, it’s just a few, you know, small messes.”

  “Hmm,” he said.

  I waited for something more, but he just looked down at his feet and said “Hmm” again.

  “Sarge isn’t looking,” hissed Isaac from behind us. “Switch back!”

  So we did. I didn’t know if what I’d said to Deek had sunk in — or if it would even work for him — but I hoped so. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to flunk off the team. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  By the time I settled back into my seat, everyone on the bus was talking about something else. The next game. It was the biggest one yet, they were saying, maybe the biggest of the whole season. It was against the Central Cougars.

  “What’s so big about Central?” I said to Gerry.

  “For real?” he said, looking surprised. “They’re the ones who beat us for the title last season.”

  “When’s the game again?” I said.

  “Wednesday night, at home.”

  A home game — the gym packed with our families and friends, and against our biggest rivals. I told myself right then, I’d be ready.

  The next few practices should’ve been sponsored by the local hardware store, because it was all drills, drills, drills on Thursday and Friday. After a few games, Coach already had a long list of things we needed to work on.

  “We were shooting it way too fast,” Coach told us on Thursday. “We need to work on our passing!”

  And he had drills for that. There was one called the extra-pass drill that, well, you can probably figure that out.

  “The Lakers were shooting way too fast,” Coach told us on Friday. “We need to work on our defense.”

  Want to bet he had drills for that, too? Some of them we’d done before, and some of them were new to me. Either way, I did my best to stay focused (not the easiest thing on a Friday afternoon) and worked hard. I knew what Dad would say: that these drills were making me better. And now that I’d had a little playing time, I wanted more.

  Kurt and some of the other eighth graders were just as stone-cold to me as always. Maybe even more, now that I’d been subbed in for a few of them. I broke up one of Kurt’s passes on the fast-break drill. “Good luck getting your hands on any passes from the bench,” he said as we headed back up the court.

  But all he could do was make nasty comments. That’s the good thing about those drills. We’re lined up and everyone gets a turn — and then about eight turns more!

  And just like that, it was the weekend. Yes!

  I started this one off the same way as the last one. I definitely didn’t start every weekend this way, but I had a hunch. I biked over to the library, said hello to the librarian, and headed toward the back. Sure enough, there was Deek. He looked up and saw me. He held up a book. It was the only one he had on the table. I nodded and took a seat at the same table. It definitely wasn’t something I would’ve done a week ago, but he just moved his stuff over to make room.

  We sat there for a solid hour. We didn’t say much, just worked. Sometimes that helps, though, just having someone else sitting next to you and working, too.

  This time, I left first. Deek had already swapped out his books twice by then. As I got up, he put down his pencil. The page he was working on was almost full. He saw me looking and turned it over: The other side was full, too.

  “Nice!” I whispered. We bumped fists for the first time, and I was gone.

  There was no cookout at the lake today — I wish — but I was way overdue to hang out with Mike and Deuce. We had big plans for today, too — racing our bikes down at the park.

  I pedaled fast to get there. I zoomed into the old parking lot and slammed on the brakes, fishtailing to a stop a few feet from where Mike and Deuce were leaning over their handlebars.

  “What’s up?” I said.

  “Waiting for you,” said Deuce.

  “That’s only fair,” I said. “Since I’ll be waiting for you two after I cross the finish line.”

  “In your dreams!” said Mike.

  We were all smiling. We knew the races would be close. Deuce was small and fast, and could make quick turns on his bike. Mike was big and had raw power. I had some of both: speed and power.

  “Let’s get to it,” said Deuce. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at his backpack. “I’ve got everything we need for the course right in here.”

  We got off our bikes and started building the course. There were empty soda bottles to zip in between, a Frisbee to circle around, and a few other things. The obstacles were my idea.

  “We haven’t done this in years,” said Mike as he positioned a plastic bottle on the pavement. “What made you think of it?”

  “Got the idea at basketball practice,” I said.

  “Cool. So how’d that last game go?” said Mike.

  “Not too bad,” I said.

  “Yeah, that’s what you said Thursday,” said Deuce. “But, like, how not bad?”

  “Just, I don’t know, not too bad,” I said. “I got a few more minutes, scored some points.”

  “So, you’re happy about it?” said Deuce.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “But it’s getting better. I think some of the other players are starting to realize I’m there.”

  “So you’re gonna stick with it?” said Mike.

  That’s what this was about. I was wondering what they were getting at. They were still thinking about that “timing.” I let them know right away that that train had left the station.

  “Yeah,” I said. “All I need is a chance to show what I can do. I just need to wait — and work.”

  “All right, cool,” said Mike. The course was done, and we climbed back on our bikes.

  “Yeah, cool,” said Deuce.

  And that was the great thing about my friends. Sure, they wanted to hang out with me more. But they also had my
back, no matter what I did. If I had any doubt about that, it vanished a little while later.

  “I’ve got one more piece of equipment in my backpack,” said Deuce after a few good races through the course. “You’re closest, STAT. Can you grab it for me?”

  I pedaled over to his bag and picked it up. The top flopped open. There was one thing left in there: a basketball.

  A big, goofy grin spread over Deuce’s face. “Sort of figured you’d stick with it,” he said. “Thought you might want to work on some things in, you know, a friendlier environment.”

  I got a big, goofy grin of my own. The park’s basketball court was a short ride away. “Hope you guys like free throws,” I said.

  There was an electric charge at practice on Monday. “Two days till revenge!” bellowed Coach as we filed into the gym. “Those Cougars took the title — our title! — last year. On Wednesday, we let them know we’re taking it back!”

  He was as fired up as I’d ever seen him, and that got us all fired up, too. We were going to seriously declaw those Cougars! There was one problem. There might have been electricity in the air, but there was jerk-icity on the court. Kurt gave me trouble all practice.

  He was eyeballing me any time I did anything, and making little digs and comments. Coach put him in charge of wind sprints at the end of practice and he made me do extras because he said I left early — but everyone left early!

  After practice, I got a call from my friend Jammer. He was just checking in, but I knew he was on his school team, too, so I told him about it. He knew the deal right away.

  “Guy like that, been on the team a couple of years and now he’s captain,” said Jammer. “He thinks he runs the place.”

  “Sounds like him,” I said.

  “Right, and here you come, a new kid, starting to get some minutes and get some attention. He’ll tell people — he probably even tells himself — that you haven’t put in the time yet. That you don’t deserve it. But really …”

  “But really he wants to keep it all for himself,” I said.

  “Yeah, for him and his friends.”

  Jammer had never met Kurt, but he had him figured out. “You ever have a guy like that on your team?” I asked.

  “Man, STAT, I think everyone does at some point.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I did what I do, man!”

  I laughed. What Jammer did was score points by the dozen.

  “How’s it going for you so far?” he asked.

  “Better,” I said. “But not good enough. I’m getting some minutes, some buckets.”

  “Yeah, sometimes you’ve got to ease your way in,” he said. “But that’s not you. You’ve got to get out there and operate, STAT. Once you show them what you can do — what you can really do — there won’t be anything more to say.”

  He was right: enough of this a-point-here-and-there stuff. I showed up at practice on Tuesday ready to go. But as soon as I stepped into the gym, I knew there was trouble. Coach was in a suit and tie again, just like before. I got there just in time to see him hand the whistle off — to Kurt.

  “Where the heck does he go in that suit?” I said to Gerry as Coach hustled out the door.

  “I heard he’s buying a house,” he said. “Meetings and paperwork and all that.”

  I pictured Coach sitting in front of a desk down at the bank, his old clipboard full of forms to fill out instead of plays.

  “Check out Mr. Bander,” said Gerry, pointing over to the far corner. A teacher I didn’t know had the first row of bleachers pulled out and was sitting there grading papers.

  “He should run practice,” I said.

  “Old Bander’s just here to make sure we don’t break anything. I don’t think he knows a single thing about hoops.”

  I looked over at Kurt. “He should still run it,” I said.

  TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!

  Kurt blew the whistle long and loud. The teacher didn’t even look up from his grading. “Enough joking around!” shouted Kurt. “We have one day to practice till the biggest game of the season. Let’s get to it!”

  Kurt’s friends and some of the other kids whooped, and then, sure enough, we got to it. I don’t know if he thought he was sticking it to me by starting with free throws. He hadn’t bothered to stick around and see me working on them after practice. But he got the news now.

  “One!” shouted the rest of the line as I drained the first one.

  “Two!” Kurt looked confused.

  “Three!” Kurt looked annoyed.

  “Four!” Kurt looked angry. I could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes, coming up with something worse.

  Kelvin went after me and hit his four in six attempts, his best yet. “Yeah, Big Man!” someone called out from the line.

  Bibo went next. Coach had given him a whistle, too, but it hung around his neck completely unused. He did his part for the team by demonstrating some silky smooth precision at the line.

  “Four!” some joker called out after Bibo hit his first.

  Kurt had seen enough. “Full court!” he called. “Odds against evens.”

  He named Joe permanent ref again, but I knew he wasn’t done yet. I knew because he was looking right at me.

  “Seventh and eighth only,” he said.

  That left exactly one person out: me. I’d had enough. “That’s ridiculous,” I said.

  He smirked. “You need to watch and learn, new guy,” he said. “Just grab a seat over by Bander.”

  The old man looked up at the sound of his name and then right back down. But I didn’t move.

  “Take a seat,” said Kurt.

  “What a joke,” said Gerry.

  Kurt cut him a quick look. I appreciated Gerry sticking up for me, but I knew Kurt wouldn’t care. He was a good player, but he wasn’t a starter, and he was still in seventh.

  “You can take a seat, too,” said Kurt. “You can just stay on the bench.”

  The gym was dead quiet now, and every word carried. I looked over at Gerry and gave him a quick nod: Thanks.

  “All right, the rest of you get out there,” said Kurt.

  Most of the team jogged toward the center for the tip: most, but not all.

  “Nah, I don’t think so,” said a big voice next to me. “Like the little guy said, this is a joke.”

  I looked over at Gerry. He didn’t mind being called a little guy — to Kelvin almost everyone was little. Kurt’s jaw just about hit the floor. He was either totally surprised or just trying to figure out how the even team was going to get by without their center.

  “Come on, Kelvin,” he said after a few seconds. “This isn’t about you. You’ve put in your time.”

  The next surprise came from right next to Kurt: from his own group.

  “Yeah, you know, I think he’s right.”

  It was Deek. He’d said “I think he’s right” instead of “I think you’re wrong,” but he’d made his point.

  “What is this?” said Kurt. “Come on, D-man, you messin’ with me?”

  Deek shook his head.

  “Okay, cool,” said Kurt, shaking the surprise off his face. “You can all sit out. We’ll run fours.”

  “Better make it threes,” said Isaac. “And good luck running the point.”

  TWEEEEEEEEEEET!

  Kurt looked down at the whistle, still hanging flat against his jersey. Then he swallowed hard and looked over at the only other whistle in the room. We all did.

  “Five on five, odds versus evens, the end,” said Bibo.

  Now it was my jaw that just about hit the floor. It was the longest thing I’d ever heard Mark Bibo say.

  And the best.

  Game Day. No, wait: Big-Game Day! This is what I was picturing back when I handed in that permission slip. I was wearing my new Bears jersey, high-fiving the other players as we passed in the hallway. Kids I didn’t even know wished me luck. From what I heard, just about the whole school planned to go to the game.

>   It wasn’t the first time I’d worn the jersey to school for game days, but it was the first time I really felt like a part of the team when I did. It’s not like I doubted my skills or anything. I just wasn’t sure they wanted me there. But after those guys stuck up for me at practice the day before, I knew.

  I think even Kurt and Joe figured it out, because we’d had a good game of five-on-five. There were no cheap fouls, and no hard ones, either. By the time Coach B showed up at the end and took his whistles back, it really didn’t seem to matter that much.

  Now all that mattered was this game. We were as prepared as we were going to get, and all that was left was waiting for it to start. It felt like it took forever.

  I tried to concentrate during classes and then joked around with Mike and Deuce between them. “I wish you guys were playing, too,” I told them on our way to lunch.

  “We’ll be there next year,” said Mike.

  “Yeah, don’t sweat it,” said Deuce. “Just warn ’em we’re coming. It’s only fair!”

  They were cool about it, and that made it easier. They were the guys I’d learned to play hoops with — before the tournaments, before the team, before everything. They were the one thing that was missing from all this, I told myself. But even as I thought that, I knew there was something else. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was. I could feel it there, like a missing tooth, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  By the time we filed into the cafeteria and found our other friends, I’d forgotten all about it. Eventually, the day crawled over the finish line, and I was changing for the game. The locker room was electric with anticipation and nerves.

  And it didn’t just feel different; it was different. A huge shadow fell over me as I was lacing up my sneakers. I looked up and there was Kelvin. “You ready, man?” he said.

  I reached up and we bumped fists. “You know it!” I said.

  A few minutes later, Isaac did the same thing. The silent treatment was officially over. Before he walked away, I added a quick, “Thanks, man.”

  I didn’t have to say for what. Taking my side against Kurt was a big thing — people were still talking about it. He nodded. He looked both ways and then leaned in. “Deek got a B-plus the other day,” he whispered. “He couldn’t even believe it. That’s the kind of grade that’s gonna keep him on the team.”