Three On Three

Three on Three

ERIC WALTERS

Copyright © 1999 Eric Walters

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in review.

Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data
Walters, Eric, 1957–
Three on three

ISBN 1-55143-170-X

I. Title.
PS8595.A598T57  1999   jC813'.54    C99-910904-9
PZ7.W17129Th 1999

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:
99-65484

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support of our publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Department of Canadian Heritage, The Canada Council for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council.

Cover design by Christine Toller
Cover illustration by John Mantha

Interior illustrations by Kirsti

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IN THE UNITED STATES
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01 00 99   5  4  3  2  1

With apologies to Kyle, and thanks to Kia
.

“Come on everybody, let's get in and start working,” Mrs. Orr said, before ducking into the room.

Kids began hanging up their coats and backpacks and shuffling into the classroom.

“Nick, have a look at this,” Kia said as she pulled something out of the pocket of her jacket.

“Wow! It's a Julius ‘The Jewel' Johnson basketball card! Where did you get it?”

“I spent all my birthday money on cards
last night,” Kia grinned.

“All your money?”

“Every cent I had.”

“And your mother said you could?” I couldn't believe it.

There was a pause. “Well, she didn't say yes,” Kia admitted, “but she didn't say no either.”

I gave her a confused look. “So what you're saying is … ?”

“She doesn't exactly
know
I bought them. And she never will, unless she counts my cards and finds out I have two hundred and eighty-one instead of one hundred and ninety-two,” she explained, pulling out a hand full of cards from her other pocket.

“But if she does find out, she'll kill you.”

“No she won't. She said I couldn't just waste my money. I had to save it for some-thing special.”

“Yeah … your point?”

“Can you think of anything more special than basketball cards?”

I thought for a second. The only person I knew who liked b-ball more than Kia was me. “You're right, nothing is more special than basketball cards … especially a Julius ‘The Jewel' Johnson card.”

“Are you two waiting for a special invitation to come into class?' Mrs. Orr asked in an annoyed voice.

“Um … no …,” I stammered, realizing that aside from our teacher, Kia and I were the only two people left in the hall.

“Hurry up!” she said and then she popped back into the class.

I took another look at the Julius Johnson card. It showed him driving for the basket, suspended in mid-flight. He was the greatest player around — my hero — the guy I always pretended to be when I was playing basketball. I tried to cross-over dribble the ball the way he did. I made sure I got his number on my basketball jersey. I left the back of my shirt un-tucked the way ‘The Jewel' did. I even wanted to have my hair done exactly the same way he wore his — and
I would have, if my mother didn't think it was wrong for a ten-year-old to have his hair dyed green and blue.

Reluctantly I handed the card back to Kia. We hurried into the class just as the national anthem came crackling out of the P.A. I snapped to attention, my hands at my sides, my head held high, and sang out all the words.

Without even looking over, I knew Kia was standing the same way, and could hear her singing just as loud. Mrs. Orr often commented on how much respect we showed. She once even sent in a little slip of paper to the office and our names were read during the announcements as ‘Clark Boulevard Public School All-Stars' for the way we stood so still and sang so strong.

What Mrs. Orr didn't know was that, when the national anthem played, we pretended we were standing center court in front of seventeen thousand people, waiting for the game to start. After all, it was important for superstars like us to set a good
example for our loyal fans. That was our shared fantasy. Me to be in the NBA, and Kia to be in the WNBA — the Women's National Basketball Association. Kia was just about the best athlete in all of Grade Three. She was taller than all the boys, as strong as most of them, and could out-play them at just about any sport you could name.

The anthem ended and Kia and I gave each other a slight nod of the head. We went and joined the rest of the class sitting on the carpet. Kia sat at one side, with the rest of the girls, and I sat on the other, with the boys.

Sometimes it wasn't easy for either of us to be friends. Kids were always making some joke or comment about us ‘liking' each other. Of course we liked each other … but not
that
way. When we were in kindergarten, it was okay for girls and boys to hang out together, but with each passing year it was getting harder. So to make things a little bit easier, we agreed not to talk to each other while we were
in class. After announcements, Mrs. Orr asked, “Whose turn is it to lead the opening exercises?”

“It's mine,” Tim said, rising to his feet. He shuffled through the bodies on the carpet until he got to the blackboard. He picked up the pointer and put the tip on our class motto.

“Positive people in Room Two respect everybody. We cooperate and learn,” the class read out together, following Tim as he pushed the pointer from word to word.

“Good work, Tim. We'll start today with page seventy-eight in the math book, and then … Kia what are you playing with?”

I knew without looking over what it was.

“My new cards,” Kia said.

“I know I've spoken to you before about bringing cards to the carpet. I also know this is going to be the very last time I'm going to need to mention it.”

“The last time?” Kia asked nervously.

“Yes. Because the next time you play with cards during school time, I'm going to take
them away from you … for good.”

I gasped out loud.

Mrs. Orr turned to me. “You don't agree with that, Nicholas?”

She always called me ‘Nicholas,' even though the rest of the world called me Nick. Nick would sound better when the announcer introduced me before the game. I could just see it — the crowd roaring — smoke and strobe lights flashing as the announcer screams out my name and I run onto the court and …

“Well, Nicholas?” she asked again.

I snapped back to reality. “Um … taking away her cards seems pretty tough, Mrs. Orr. Couldn't you just send her down to the office or suspend her or something?”

“Yeah, just send me to the office,” Kia insisted, “that would be fair.”