Jump Shot (5 page)

“Wake up, Barber!”
Morton barked at him.

Ronde saw that Tiki was about to explode. Luckily, at just that moment, the whistle blew across court, where the center, Bobby Dominic, had fouled one of the Mountaineers.

Coach Jackson called Tiki over to the bench, sending Rory Mathis out to replace him.

“You've got to control yourself better than that,” Ronde heard Coach Jackson tell his twin.

“But—”

“I know,” Jackson stopped him. “But during the
game is not the time to take it up with him.”

Ronde leaned forward, hearing all this. After Coach Jackson had turned his back, he put a hand on Tiki's shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Hang in there, bro.”

Tiki snorted angrily. “Yeah, right,” he muttered. “Thanks, though. Appreciate the support.”

“No problem. I've got your back.”

Ronde went back to watching the game, but it was more of the same. Finally, with less than five minutes left and the Eagles down by almost twenty points, the coach sent Tiki back in there.

Ronde could tell that his brother was steaming mad. He wondered how Tiki would handle all that anger on the court. Would he be able to use it—or would his anger handle
him
?

Soon, Ronde had his answer. Off a rebound, Tiki got open, and Bobby Dominic got him the ball. He tossed up a three-pointer, and
SWISH
!

Ronde and the rest of the crowd whooped it up—especially when, seconds later, Tiki recovered a loose ball and found Sugar open for another three!

The rest of the Eagles seemed suddenly inspired. Bobby blocked a shot, and it came right to Tiki, who dribbled upcourt, and found Sugar open again. He buried the shot, and suddenly, they were only eleven points down, with four minutes still to play.

The Mountaineers called time, and the Eagles
huddled up. Ronde leaned forward to listen in. “Sugar,” Coach J said. “You okay?”

Sugar was breathing hard, his hands on his hips. He nodded, but said nothing. Ronde wondered if Sugar had enough wind to say a word. He looked totally gassed, and why wouldn't he be? Coach Jackson hadn't sat him down once the whole game!

Had Jackson noticed how exhausted Sugar was? If he had, he gave no sign, just clapping his hands and saying, “Okay, we've got 'em right where we want 'em! Let's go get 'em!”

Oh, well,
thought Ronde. At least the coach sounded excited—and why shouldn't he be? His team was back in the game, if only just. And he had himself a real star player, who lit up the scoreboard every single game. Sugar Morton was practically a living highlight reel!

The game resumed, and the Eagles kept storming back. With just under a minute left in, they regained possession of the ball in their own end. Sugar dribbled upcourt, his eyes scanning the defense. Tiki ran alongside him on the far side of the court, open for a pass in case the Mountaineers double-teamed Sugar.

They did, soon enough, but instead of passing the ball to Tiki, Sugar tried to bull his way through them. He drew a foul, and sank both free throws. Only one point now separated the teams as the Mountaineers came back upcourt with the ball.

Tiki guarded his man tightly, not letting him get close to the basket when he had possession.

Then, with twenty seconds left, Ronde saw that Tiki could steal the ball if he left his man and got into the passing lane. He wished he could yell to Tiki to get there . . . !

No need. Identical twins think alike. Just as if Ronde had willed it, or sent Tiki a message by mental telepathy, Tiki dropped off his man and dove for the pass—

Except the pass never came.
The point guard for the Mountaineers must have seen Tiki's eyes, and known he was coming. He held on to the ball instead of passing it. Tiki's man was now free at the basket. An easy lob resulted in a crushing layup—all because Tiki had blown his coverage!

Ronde saw Sugar yell something at Tiki, but he couldn't make out the words over the groan of the home crowd. Now the Eagles were down by three again, with only fourteen seconds left, and no time-outs.

Tiki loped upcourt, shaking his head and looking at the ground. Sugar dribbled to half-court, then tried to slice through the defense to get at the basket.

There was no thought of dishing out to the free man at the point or in the corners. Sugar was going to take it to the hoop himself, and everybody knew it—including the defenders. The shot was swatted away like a lazy fly—and the ball landed in
Tiki's hands
!

There he was, with an open shot! The crowd was screaming now, and Ronde saw Sugar calling for the ball. The clock ticked down to two seconds . . . one second . . .

Tiki launched the ball just as the defender got his hand up. It sailed, arcing high, and hit the far rim before bouncing straight up in the air. It came down again, hitting the rim a second time before dropping to the ground as the buzzer sounded, breaking the hearts of the Eagles and their fans.

The crowd fell eerily silent. And in the silence, Ronde, and everyone else, heard Sugar Morton's voice ring out:
“Barber! What were you thinking?”

Ronde knew exactly what Tiki had been thinking. There had been no time to pass the ball—only time to throw up one last, desperate prayer. And that was exactly what Tiki had done!

But Tiki said nothing. He strode silently toward the locker room. Ronde could almost see the steam shooting out of his brother's ears.

“You mean to say you never said anything? NOTHING??”

Tiki frowned. “Don't stare at me like that, Ronde. You wouldn't have either.”

“As if! I would totally have said something! I'd have knocked his block off!”

Tiki sniggered. “Yeah, right, Ronde. When's the last time you ever even shoved anybody—except me, that is?”

Ronde furrowed his brows in thought, but he needn't have bothered.

“Never, that's when,” Tiki said triumphantly. “So don't go saying things about what I should have or could have done in that locker room.”

Ronde sighed. “I guess you're right. But how could you not have at least said something to him?”

“
Think,
dude,” Tiki said. He'd been pacing the room,
but now sat down next to Ronde on the edge of the couch. “What would have happened if I'd done that?”

Ronde grinned. “A fight?”

“Yeah, you'd
better
smile when you say that,” Tiki said, grinning himself. “You know it would have been a bad scene. The team would have fallen apart right then and there.”

“It's not much of a team as it is,” Ronde pointed out.

“True.
Somebody
should sure say
something
to Sugar.”

“Coach Jackson said that's why you're on the team, right?”

“Well, he's got the wrong guy,” Tiki said, shaking his head. “I'm not the type to go head-to-head and have it out with somebody. I didn't even do that with Cody, and that was the
football
team!”

He got up and started pacing again. “This just isn't working out,” he said. “I thought being on the b-ball team would be fun, you know?”

“Well, maybe you've got to give it more time,” Ronde suggested. “It's only been two weeks.”

“Yeah, but I can see already where the rest of the season is headed,” Tiki replied. “I just don't know, Ronde.” He fell silent for a moment. “Maybe . . .” he began, then fell silent again.

“Maybe
what
?”

“You know, I took the spot on the team because I'm a better shooter than you. . . .”

“Hey!”

“Don't argue. I won that game of one-on-one, so the issue is decided. But the point is, I'm not getting the chance to shoot very much. So what good am I doing there? Like I said, I'm not going to be able to put Sugar in his place.”

“Are you saying . . . ?”

“How about switching with me? I mean, you're better than me at defense, at least. And if we're not going to be shooting . . .”

“I get your point,” Ronde said. “But I don't know . . . I'm not exactly the type to go head-to-head with that kid either.”

“Hey, you can't do any less good than I'm doing—which is
none
.”

“You know what, though?” Ronde said. “It might be good for you to take on the job at Landzberg's. I mean, then you could tell Laura you haven't got time to write the advice column.”

“That's true!” Tiki said, suddenly brightening. “So, is it a deal?”

“You bet!” Ronde said, and they exchanged their secret handshake to seal the deal. “So, who's gonna break the news to Coach Jackson?”

•  •  •

The coach was happy enough to make the switch. “As far as I'm concerned, either one of you guys is a better bet than anybody else at the school,” he said. “You're both terrific athletes, and the more you play basketball, the more comfortable you'll be on the court. I'm only sorry I couldn't play you as my starter, Tiki.”

“Oh, no, I understand,” said Tiki sincerely. “I'm just the new guy. Rory's been on the team all season.”

“And the season before that,” Coach added. “And that whole time, he's come off the bench. So this is his chance, and I can't take that away from him.”

“Totally,” said Ronde.

“Of course,” Tiki agreed. They'd both ridden the bench during their first season on the football team, and they understood what it was like—how much you yearned to get out there and show everyone what you were capable of.

“Besides,” Coach Jackson said, leaning back in his chair as he sat across the desk from them, “it's not like anybody gets to take a lot of shots, other than Sugar.”

“Ever think of making him the shooting guard?” Ronde wondered. “I mean, shooting is what he does, and he's really good at it too.”

“But he's also my best ball-handler, by far,” Jackson said. “Rory Nelson is my sub at point guard. He's
a seventh grader, and he is still working on having a feel for the position, it seems.”

Tiki realized suddenly what should have been obvious to him all along. Not all coaches had a team full of talented players, the way Coach Wheeler did. They'd been lucky in that way. Even the seventh-graders had talent on those Eagles. This basketball team had a lot of talent, but most of it was Sugar's.

“So look, Ronde, I'll need you at practice tomorrow, to break you in and show you the set plays and defenses,” said Jackson. “Tiki . . . thanks for everything. And anytime you want to switch back, that's okay too. You did a fine job. . . .”

. . . for a guy who's never been on a basketball team before, except for pickup games at the playground,
thought Tiki as he shook the coach's hand. “Thanks, Coach. I enjoyed it . . .
most
of it.”

From that moment on, Tiki was a working man, and Ronde was a ballplayer. You would have thought Ronde would be the happy one, but looking over at him, Tiki saw that he was deep in thought. Ronde seemed worried, and he could imagine why.

Curiously, Tiki was the one who felt much better as they walked away from the coach's office. It was like a weight had been removed from his shoulders. He wondered how Ronde would bear that burden, now that it was his.

•  •  •

“There's this kid at work—Ralphie?” Ronde said as they lay in their beds in the darkened bedroom that night. “His mom's really sick, and has been for a long time. He can't come in to work except for one day a week, but Mr. L. sends the family money and stuff.”

“So? Why're you telling me?”

“Mr. L. will want you to deliver the stuff to the kid's house.”

“Oh.” Tiki stared up at the ceiling and the dozens of stick-on, glow-in-the-dark stars he and Ronde had put up there. They glowed down on the boys now, like constellations in the night sky.

“I just thought you should know.”

“Why?”

“Well, it's just . . . every time I go over there, I get all sad and stuff. Some people are really struggling with a lot of hard things. . . . And we're real lucky, you know?”

“Uh-huh.” Tiki wondered what he was getting at.

“I was just thinking,” Ronde said. “You know Sugar?”

“Of course I know him, duh. What's he got to do with it?”

“I don't know . . . but like, when Ralphie's mom first got sick—before he started not being able to work—he told me he used to get angry all the time. Sometimes he'd go nuts for a minute, and do something crazy like break a dish or yell at his dog. You know?”

“Whoa,” said Tiki softly. “That's some bad stuff, all right. So you're saying . . . ?”

“Well, what if
that's
what's going on with
Sugar
? I mean, Coach said that last year he was a team player, and how he never thought Sean would turn into a star-type.”

“That's true—Coach said he couldn't talk to him anymore; that he wouldn't listen.”

Tiki was deep in thought now. Maybe Ronde was on to something. If something was going on with Sean Morton that he couldn't talk to anybody about, that might explain his hostile behavior.

“Maybe you should try to find out what's really up with him,” Tiki suggested. “I mean, now that you're on the team and all. He doesn't hate you yet, the way he does me. . . .”

“Come on, he does not hate you!”

“Well, he acts like he hates the whole rest of the team. You'd think we were letting him down or something, but it's not like we're not trying. . . .” Tiki thought about that for a moment. “And even if some of the guys
aren't
trying hard all the time, who could blame them? The way Sugar hogs the ball, they might as well be doing something else, 'cause they're not in the game, really. At least not on offense.”