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“Yeah, I was so frustrated that—” Mr. Roberts stopped. “Maybe we should stop talking about basketball and you should get back to work. I don't want either of us to get in trouble. You better finish your letters.”

“I will finish…but first I better start,” I said.

“You haven't started?”

I held up the blank sheet. “Not yet. This isn't easy.”

“You had no problem with the last letter,” he said.

“That was to Wayne Dawkins.”

“Speaking of Wayne Dawkins, my friend John teaches at a school in the city and he told me that they had a special guest visit their school last week.” He paused. “Wayne Dawkins.”

“Wayne Dawkins came to their school?” I gasped.

He nodded his head. “He spoke at an assembly for the whole school.”

“But…but…why? How…how did that happen?”

“Apparently the Raptors schedule community visits to schools to promote reading.”

“We're a school,” I said. “We need to be told to read…we're in the community. Can we get him to come to our school?”

“I don't see why not.”

“So how do we get him to come?” I demanded.

He pushed the piece of paper on my desk toward me. “Maybe you should write a letter.”

“But Mrs. Orr said I
can't
write to Wayne Dawkins.”

“Not to him. Write to the Raptors' community relations director.”

“The Raptors…Wait…they're a business,” I replied.

“A big business.”

“So if I write a letter to the Raptors and ask for Wayne Dawkins to come to our school, then I'm actually doing the assignment, right?” I asked. “I'm writing a business letter.”

“Well, it sounds right to me.”

“That's incredible. I finish an assignment and get to meet Wayne Dawkins.”

“Slow down there,” Mr. Roberts said. “Finishing the assignment part is guaranteed. Getting Wayne Dawkins probably won't happen.”

“But why not?”

“My guess is they get hundreds, maybe thousands, of requests like that, so your letter might just get lost, like a needle in a haystack of letters,” Mr. Roberts explained.

What he was saying did make sense Unfortunately.

“What about two needles?” Kia asked. “I could write a letter as well.”

“Two letters should double your chances for sure,” Mr. Roberts agreed.

“Then three would triple our chances, right?” Greg asked.

“Definitely. The more the better.”

“Wait,” I said as I jumped to my feet. “Everybody, wait!”

The whole class was looking at me standing there. I had an idea. It was either an incredible idea or an incredibly
stupid
idea. But fifty-fifty odds weren't bad.

Slowly I looked around the room. Everybody was staring at me, waiting. Lailah was looking at me too. Was she smiling—or was that a smirk? Either way, she
was
looking at me.

Lailah was new to the school this year. I had a clear memory of her being walked into our class by the principal, Mr. Waldman, on the second day of school. She had really nice clothes—she always dressed well—and she came in really confidently. I'd seen new kids walk in before, and it always looked like they were on their way to the dentist. Not her. She walked in like she owned the place and—

“Okay, we're waiting,” Kia said.

“Oh yeah, sure.” I took a deep breath. “I
think
we all should write a letter to the Raptors.”

There was a mumbling of agreement and nodding of heads. “If we all write, we should have twenty-five times the chance of getting Wayne Dawkins to visit our school, or maybe another player from the team.”

“The more the better,” Mr. Roberts said. “They'd see that it's a whole class that wants this to happen.”

“We can't do that,” Ashley said sharply.

“Why not?” Mr. Roberts and I asked in unison.

“Well…it wasn't what Mrs. Orr assigned.”

“She didn't say we couldn't all write a letter to the same business,” I said. “Did anybody hear her say that?”

“No…but…I don't
want
to write to the Raptors. I've already started my letter.” She held up her paper. There were a few lines written.

“No one
has
to write to the Raptors,” Mr. Roberts said.

“Good, because I'm writing to my father's business,” Ashley said.

How typical and annoying. That was her— typically annoying. If I were her father, I wouldn't write back if she wrote to me.

“
I'm
going to write to the Raptors,” Lailah said. She gave me a big smile.

“Me too,” another kid added from the back.

“By a show of hands, how many are going to write to the Raptors?” Mr. Roberts asked.

Hand after hand went up. I did a quick count—twenty-two out of twenty-five. That gave us twenty-two times the power of just a letter from me…well, I knew Kia would have written the Raptors too, so we would have at least eleven times the power.

“Good,” Mr. Roberts said. “You all get writing, and I'll get an address and contact person to address the letters to.”

Mr. Roberts went over and plopped himself down in front of a computer. Everybody else began talking. There was a real buzz in the room. A buzz was good, as long as I didn't get stung.

I got up and went over to stand beside Mr. Roberts. I had a question—a question triggered by Ashley. She was annoying but she was also really smart—come to think of it, that was part of what made her so annoying.

Mr. Roberts turned from the computer to look at me.

“I was just wondering if—”

“If Mrs. Orr is going to be mad about this?” he asked, finishing my sentence.

“Yeah.”

“As far as I can tell, you all just followed the assignment. And if she does get angry, she'll be angry at me and not you or anybody else.”

“But I don't want to get you in trouble.”

“I think I can handle the heat if there is any,” he said and chuckled to himself. “But don't worry. I've always believed it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“What?”

“Sometimes I just do what I think is right, and if somebody gets mad at me, then I just tell them I'm sorry.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense.”

“It's got me through school and work, and it keeps my marriage working well. Remember this for the future: the most important phrase you can ever say to your wife or girlfriend is—”

“I don't have a girlfriend!” I protested.

“Or a wife either, I hope. But remember, simply saying ‘I'm sorry. You were right' can get you out of a lot of trouble.”

“I'll try to remember that.”

“Good, because you never know when that moment might arrive for you.”

He turned around and it looked like he was looking at Lailah! He couldn't mean…I just hoped it wasn't that obvious.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to smooth it out. Why did it have to be so wild and… brownish? Darker or lighter would have been better. Even if my hair wasn't right, I was in a nice shirt—a nice clean shirt—and I was almost the tallest person in the class. I
was
the tallest if you didn't count Jennifer and Amelia, but I was definitely the tallest boy. Tall was good… although giraffes were tall, and that didn't make them good-looking. But my mother always told me how handsome I was. Then again, what mother didn't think her kid was good-looking? And who really cared if their mother thought they were handsome? I
did
know my eyes were nice. Nice and blue and—

“You know, Nick, the very best guarantee that Mrs. Orr won't be upset is if the letters are both finished and well-written…finished before she gets back. You better stop daydreaming and get writing, buddy.”

Chapter Two

Dear Ms. Allison,

I am writing on behalf of me and my school. We are all big basketball fans. We are particularly big Raptors fans and even bigger fans of Wayne Dawkins. I think he is a superstar. I was told that sometimes NBA players come to schools for a visit. We are a school and we would like him to come to visit. He wouldn't have to stay long and he wouldn't have to shoot hoops with us or anything—but we'd let him if he wanted to. We have a nice gym.

If he came on a Tuesday—any Tuesday— it is pizza day and he could have some pizza. It would be free for him. He could have as many slices as he wanted.

You can write us back at the address listed below or even call the number that is there to arrange to come to our school.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Nick

P.S. You might have noticed that there are 22 letters from my class. We're not asking for him to come to the school 22 times. Once would be good enough.

Chapter Three

“Okay, everybody!” Mr. Roberts yelled.

We all stopped and held on to the balls, leaving the gym in silence.

“I'm not going to say that was the worst practice in the history of basketball.” He paused. “Because I haven't seen
every
practice in the history of basketball…but that was not very good. Although we are getting better each practice, and we
will
continue to get better, because as you all know, a winner doesn't quit…”

“…and a quitter doesn't win!” we all yelled back.

Mr. Roberts had lots of sayings and we knew them all.

“Let's get back to practice!” he called out. “Layup drill!”

We got back into the two lines. One line went in for the layups and the other line got the rebound. I was tired of layup drills. I was tired of practicing the basketball basics over and over again, doing things that most of our team just didn't seem to get.

Our school team had always been good, but this season was probably going to be a long one. Aside from Kia and me, there really wasn't anybody. Most of the team had graduated and gone on to the middle school for grade seven. And then the twins, Brad and Brent, moved away, and Greg got hurt on the playground and wasn't able to play.

Greg's injury was just so stupid. We were playing some basketball at recess and he'd tripped on one of the little kids and sprained his ankle so badly that he couldn't play for weeks.

Greg's injury was bad, but the reason for his injury was also hurting us. Normally we could play basketball during lunch and recess, but that wasn't so easy right now. The field was being repaired—it was being levelled and new sod put down, and the baseball diamond was being replaced. That was all good. But in the meantime nobody was allowed on the field, which meant that everyone had to stay on the pavement and the basketball court was flooded with kids.

Mr. Roberts blew his whistle and we all stopped. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next. I knew what I would have said to a bunch of kids who couldn't make layups, but I knew he wouldn't say that.

“The morning bell is just about to go. Thank you all for coming out, and remember, you only fail when you fail to try. I'll see you all right after school, right here in the gym, for our first game of the season.”

There was a mumble of excitement. I
wasn't
excited. I was smart enough to know we should all be pretty scared about what was going to happen.

“Now, head off to class and no fooling around in the hall.”

Everybody went to the change room except for Kia and me. We always stayed to help put away the balls—part of our responsibilities as co-captains of the team.

“So,” Mr. Roberts said, “what do you two think of the team?”

Kia and I exchanged a look. Did he want an honest answer?

“Um…we'll win some games this year,” I said.

“That's a very polite answer from one of my co-captains. Kia, in a couple of words, how would you describe our team?”

“We suck.”

He laughed. “That certainly is a couple of words.”

“Actually,
we
don't suck,” she said, pointing first to me and then to herself, “but the rest of the team is seriously challenged.”

“Nick, do you agree? Do you think the team is challenged?”

Reluctantly I nodded my head.

“Do either of you think we have any chance of defending our title and winning it all again this year?” he asked.

“There's always a chance,” I said.

“There's a chance I'm going to learn to fly, but I think it's probably a pretty small chance,” Kia added.

He nodded his head ever so slightly in agreement. “I guess you two know what that means, right?”

For a split second I thought “quit,” but I knew that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

“We have to try to work as hard as we can, game by game, starting with tonight's game, hoping that we get better,” I said.

“We will get better when Greg can play again,” Kia added.

“We will, but that won't be tonight. And who knows? Maybe we can convince Wayne Dawkins to suit up for the team for one of our games when he comes to visit the school. The letters did go out, right?” asked Mr. Roberts.

“Mrs. Orr mailed them a couple of weeks ago,” I said.

First she'd photocopied and marked them all. I got a level four. So did Kia.

When she first found out that most of us were sending letters to the same place, she seemed a bit angry. No, that wasn't right—she seemed very annoyed. I started to explain why Mr. Roberts said it was okay, and then I remembered what he had said to me. I told her I was sorry if we did it wrong and it was
all
my fault. Amazingly, after that she seemed okay with everything. It worked! I still didn't know how it would work with a girlfriend or wife, but it seemed to work pretty well with teachers.

“With or without Wayne Dawkins, we'll get by,” Mr. Roberts said. “We're just lucky to have two co-captains who aren't going to quit or let anybody else quit.”