Road Trip (4 page)

“I don't think you're going to do anything. My job is to take care of things and this is the best place to keep my eye on everything. Any more questions and you'll be sleeping in the closet.”

“Fine… whatever,” I mumbled as I moved my bag over. There was no sense in arguing.

“Hurry up, guys!” my father yelled through the door into the other room. He then opened the door to the hall in time to see the last of the others heading into the room directly across the hall.

Everybody scrambled to the door after him and we rushed through, following right behind the rest of the team into their rooms across the hall.

“Four of you drop your bags in the other room,” Coach bellowed. “Two of you get one of the beds in this room, and I get my own bed.”

Quickly they all sorted themselves out, and everybody assembled in the one room.

“Now that we're here let's get a few things straight,” Coach said. “First thing, did anybody come here, drive all that way, because they wanted to lose?”

“I don't ever want to lose nothing,” Tristan said.

There was no arguing that. Tristan was a great guy, but he played every game – and every practice – like his life depended on it. That was great during the games when he was on our side, but if you were playing against him in practice, he brought new meaning to the term “hard foul.”

“Is Tristan the only one?” Coach demanded.

“No, of course not!” Kia argued. “We came to win!”

“All of us,” Jamie agreed.

“No losers here,” I added.

Coach nodded. “Good… that's the place to start. If you think the drive here was long, think about how much longer it'll be if we go home
without playing to our potential.”

If we didn't do well, I was going to make super sure that I wasn't sharing the ride with the coach – or, for that matter, sitting up front beside my father. Back corner, farthest from either driver, would be the prime piece of real estate.

“I want you all to remember that winning or losing doesn't start on the court with the jump ball. It starts right now. Do you know what lots of the other teams are going to be doing tonight?”

“Sleeping?” Kia questioned.

“The smart ones. Other teams are going to be out playing miniature golf, or rock climbing, or eating big meals or doing other foolish things.”

“Like swimming?” Kia asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, like swimming,” Coach agreed. “Do you know that swimming takes away muscle strength and makes you sluggish? Swimming is the last thing in the world that any of us are going to be doing.”

“You mean we can't swim at all?” Kia asked.

“No swimming.”

“Not at all?” David asked. “Even a little?”

“Well… maybe if there's enough time between games you can all go into the pool to cool off, but nobody swims.”

“What are we supposed to do in a pool if we can't swim?” Tristan asked.

“You can jump in, get cool, but no swimming.”

“Could we go in tonight?” Kia asked. “We don't have a game until tomorrow.”

“I'm afraid there isn't enough time. By the time the reception is over, it'll be close to nine o'clock.”

“But then we'll still have time to go for a swim,” Kia said.

“Afraid not. I want everybody back in their rooms, lights out, by nine-thirty,” Coach said.

“Nine-thirty!” half a dozen voices called out.

“That's what I said. We're going to be one of the smart teams. We'll be sleeping while some of the other teams are swimming, or watching movies, or eating junk food, or running around the hotel.”

Or doing one of dozens of other things that would be fun.

“Two more things,” Coach Barkley said. “No-body, and I repeat, nobody, goes anywhere by themselves, and you don't go anywhere no matter how many of you there are unless you clear it with either myself or Nick's dad.”

“Does everybody understand that?” my father asked. “We're responsible for you, and we can't be responsible if we don't know where you are at all times.”

“And the last thing I want to warn you about is that I don't want any of you talking to the press
unless one of us is around.”

“Talking to the press?” I asked. “You mean, like, reporters?”

“Newspaper and TV people,” Coach said.

“There's going to be TV people here?” Tristan asked in amazement.

“You're joking, right?” I asked.

“No joke.”

“And they're here to cover the games we're playing?” I asked.

“I told you all how big this tournament is. This is one of the biggest events this town has all year. There'll be reporters there tonight at the reception, and you can bet we're going to attract a certain amount of their attention,” Coach said.

“We are?” David asked.

“I played my college ball just down the road from here,” Coach explained.

“And people still remember from so long ago?” Tristan asked.

Coach shot Tristan a dirty look. “More than you'd believe. But besides that, we're a little different than the other teams.”

“How are we different?” Kia asked.

“Because of you.”

“Me?”

“There are forty teams here, and each team has twelve players. That makes a total of four hundred and eighty players. Do you know how many of
them are girls?”

I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to that question.

“One?” she asked.

“And, you are not simply the only female ballplayer this year. In the entire thirty-seven-year history of this tournament, you are only the second female participant.”

“That's hard to believe,” Kia said.

Coach shook his head. “But true. And that first player was here thirty-four years ago.”

“Isn't that when you were here as a kid?” I asked, remembering what he'd told us during the ride.

“That's right,” Coach said. “That was the tournament where I was a player.”

“And did you play against her?” Jamie asked.

“Not against her,” he said with a smile.

“It was your sister, wasn't it?” I said. “And she was on your team.”

“That's right. My sister, Chris, was on my team.”

Coach had a twin sister, and I remembered he'd told me that when they were kids they always played on the same team. She was supposed to be really good.

“So, Kia, since you're the only girl here, there's going to be a lot of eyes staring in your direction.”

“So what else is new?” Kia asked.

Kia was right — what was different about that? Kia was pretty well always the only girl whether it was on the rep team or the school team or when we played in three-on-three contests. And somehow she hardly ever let any of it bother her. She just went out and played her game.

I knew I could never have handled it that well. I always felt nervous before any game. But not Kia. She always acted calm, and cool, and confident. Sometimes I knew that was just an act, but it was such a good act that she had everybody else fooled. Not me, though. I could tell when she was upset or scared. You spend all of your time with somebody and you get to see what nobody else sees.

Of course, that also meant that Kia knew me. Sometimes it felt like she could read my mind, and sometimes I didn't want anybody – even my best friend – to be doing that.

“So if there are no more questions, I want you all to get dressed for the reception,” Coach said.

Coach had insisted that each one of us pack dress clothes for the reception. He said a team has to look like a team even when they aren't on the court. Of all the things Coach had said that my mother questioned, this one instruction she completely agreed with. She thought we'd look so “cute” all dressed up.

“I still think a T-shirt and sneakers would be the right way to dress for a basketball reception,” Kia said.

The coach cast an angry eye at her. “You did bring dress clothes, didn't you?”

Kia gave a disgusted look. “My mother said she packed them for me.”

“Good. Everybody has to be dressed and in the hall in five minutes.”

“Hurry up!” my father bellowed into the next room as he struggled with his tie.

My mother usually did his ties for him, and he didn't seem to be doing very well. He'd tied and untied it two times already. First it was too short, and then too long.

I loosened the loop in mine — my mother had tied it for me the night before — and then slipped it over my head and around my neck. The tie, combined with a long-sleeved white shirt with a collar, black dress pants and black leather shoes, made it feel like I was heading to church.

“Come on, guys!” my father yelled again. He stood before the mirror making the final adjustments to his tie, now satisfied that it was the right length.

David, followed by Jamie and then Mark, came into the room. They all looked equally dressy and equally uncomfortable. The only noticeable difference was that David was wearing one of his shiny black dress shoes and holding the second in his hands.

“Those things both go on your feet, you know,” my father said to David.

“I can't get it on,” he said. “It doesn't fit.”

“Didn't you try them on before you packed them?” my father asked.

“I wore them to church last month, but I think my feet have grown since then.”

“Come on, your feet couldn't have grown since…“My father let the sentence trail off because he realized that David
could
have grown since then. I knew that I kept outgrowing my shoes before I ever had a chance to wear them out.

“How could only one foot grow?” Jamie asked.

“Most people have one foot slightly bigger than the other. Have a seat here,” my father said, patting the bed, “and I'll try to get your shoe on.”

David sat down and my father took the shoe from him.

“Point your toe and take a deep breath,” my father said.

“A deep breath?” Jamie questioned.

“It can't hurt,” my father said with a shrug.

He put the shoe on David's foot and wiggled it around as David grunted and groaned.

“Press harder!” my father commanded as he pushed so strongly that David skidded slowly across the bed.

“I'm trying!”

“Try harder! You can't go there wearing one shoe and – there!”

David stood up and wiggled his foot around. “I just hope I can get it off afterwards.”

“Where's Tristan?” my father asked, looking around the room.

“I'm here,” Tristan said as he stepped into the room.

“Wow!” I gasped.

Tristan was dressed in a fancy dark suit and had an even fancier bow tie around his neck. His hair was all gelled and done up.

“It takes a little longer to get perfection… not that any of you guys would know.”

“Pretty sharp, Tristan,” my father said.

Tristan did a little twirl like he was a model on a runway, holding his jacket slightly open to reveal the shirt.

“I still think you look like you belong on the top of a wedding cake,” Jamie commented.

“Jealousy… nothing but jealousy speaking.”

“Okay, so everybody's ready… where's Kia?” my father asked.

I looked around the room. I'd forgotten all about her.

“I'm in here!” she called out from behind the closed bathroom door.

“We're all ready to go,” I called back. “Are you dressed yet?”

“I'm not going anywhere!” she yelled back.

“Of course you are!” my father called out through the door. “Come on, Kia, we have to go! Are you dressed?”

“I'm dressed, and that's the problem!”

“What do you mean… how is that a problem?” my father asked.

“You wouldn't believe what she packed for me!” she said through the still closed door.

“It can't be that bad,” my father suggested.

“Yes, it is!”

“Come on out and let us see,” my father said.

“I'm not coming out!” she protested. “Nobody's going to see me dressed like this!”

“Kia, be reasonable. We have to go. Just come out and let's see… it can't be that bad.”

There was no response from behind the door.

“Come on, Kia,” my father pleaded. “We don't want to be late.”

“Okay… I'll come out… but nobody better laugh.”

“Nobody is going to laugh.”

“They better not,” she said.

I heard the lock click, and the door slowly started to open. Kia stepped out even slower. I gasped. She was wearing a short, pink, summer dress. It was covered in little blue flowers. On her feet were white platform sandals. She looked… she looked… completely un-Kialike. “Okay, let's hear your stupid comments,” she said.

Nobody said a word. I think we were all too stunned to say anything.

“I've never… um… seen you in a dress before,” Jamie stammered.