Three On Three (8 page)

“What do you mean, it's gone?” I asked.

“It's gone. It's not in my purse. The zipper was open and my wallet wasn't there.”

“It has to be there,” I said, returning to the dishes. Her losing something was no big deal. It happened all the time.

“It's not.” Mom dumped her purse out onto the table. An amazing amount of stuff spread out across the table. But her wallet wasn't among the stuff.

“Maybe it fell out and is by the shoes
or … ”

“I looked. It isn't on the floor.”

“Then it's probably lying around the house somewhere. You know how you always forget where you put things. I don't know how many times you've lost your glasses.”

“Glasses are different,” she said.

“How about keys? Doesn't Dad say he'd trust you with his life but not his keys?”

“That's different too. Do you ever remember me misplacing my wallet?”

I had to admit I didn't.

“I always know where it is. I had it earlier today and I always make a point of putting it right back in my purse.”

“It'll turn up. It's not like it could walk away,” I laughed.

“Maybe it couldn't. But maybe somebody could walk away with it.”

I stopped and turned around. “What do you mean?”

“I mean somebody could have taken it.”

“Somebody? What somebody? The only people here were you, me, Kia and Mar —” I let the sentence trail off. “You don't think
Marcus did it, do you?” I demanded.

“I'm not saying he did. But I know it wasn't me or you. We've known Kia and her family for five years. You've only known Marcus a few weeks.”

“Marcus wouldn't take your wallet!”

“And when he left, he would have been right there by my purse, by himself.”

“Marcus wouldn't do it!”

“And you don't know about things … money may be tight at his place … maybe he doesn't get an allowance. It's my fault really for leaving it where he could be tempted …”

“You're right!” I yelled. “It
is
your fault! Your fault for blaming somebody without having any proof. I know Marcus and I know he wouldn't do it!” I ran from the room.

* * *

“Nick, are you still awake?” It was Dad.

I turned over as he sat on the edge of my bed. I gave him a hug.

“You're home pretty late, tonight, aren't you?” I asked.

“Later than I wanted to be. It's also pretty late for you to be awake.”

“I guess so.” I hadn't been able to get to sleep. I was feeling nervous about the games tomorrow. More than that, I was still upset about what Mom had said about Marcus.

“I spoke to your mom. She's sorry for blaming your friend without having proof.”

“She should be!” I said defiantly.

“But you have to remember that she might be right,” he said.

“How can you say that?” I protested. “He didn't take the wallet!”

“I didn't say he did,” Dad said. “I just wish it hadn't happened the night before the playoffs. You can't play your best unless you've had enough rest. You don't do well when you don't get enough sleep.”

He was right about that. I didn't like to admit it, but I wimped out when I was tired.

“So your mom and I agreed that we won't worry about it at all right now. Let's just let things cool off for a few days.”

“What do you mean ‘cool off ‘?” I asked.

“I'm going to help your mom search the house from top to bottom.”

“That's what she should have done in the first place before blaming people,” I said. “Can you come tomorrow and see me play?”

“There's no place else I'd rather be … but I can't. I've got an important meeting that I can't miss. You can tell me all about it at supper.”

“Hah! What makes you think you'll even be home for supper?” I asked.

“All I can do is try.” He paused. “And for right now I don't want Marcus to come over to the house.”

“But … but, Mom invited him over after school tomorrow.”

“He won't be able to come.”

“What am I supposed to say to him?”

“You're not going to say anything Nick. Your mom is going to drop into the school at the end of the day to either watch you in the finals or to pick you up. She'll just tell him you've got someplace you
have to go.”

“So she's going to lie to him?”

He didn't answer.

“That's not much better than stealing,” I said. I flipped over, turning my back to my father.

“Nick …”

I pulled the covers over my head.

“Nick . . . I know this hasn't been easy. It's not easy for us either. Just try to get to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow.”

“If you get home before I have to go to bed,” I said through the covers.

There was no answer. I felt a hand on my shoulder for a second, and then the bed groaned as he got up. I heard him walk out of the room.

If I was having trouble sleeping before my father came in, now it was going to be impossible.

“Okay,” Marcus said, “this is going to be no sweat. We just have to play the same way we did this morning in our first game.”

Kia grinned. “Yeah, we were awesome.”

“Nick, try to be a little quicker on the in-bounds pass, okay? Okay, Nick?”

“What?”

“The in-bounds pass,” Marcus repeated. “Get it in quicker, okay?”

“Sure, no problem … quicker in-bounds.”

“Wake up, will you? This is important,
and you look like you need a nap.”

“I didn't get much sleep last night.”

“I'm always charged before a big game. I didn't sleep so well either last night, so I know what you mean.”

Actually he had no idea why I had so much trouble getting to sleep.

Mr. Roberts blew his whistle to signal the end of the other game. Kingsley and Roy's team had easily won. They were now in the finals and would play against the winner of our next game. Kingsley had been hot outside. Roy had eaten up everything that missed off the boards. He wasn't that good a rebounder, but it looked like the other team was afraid to go under the net against him.

“Let's go,” Mr. Roberts bellowed. “We have to get the next game started.”

There were a few cheers from the kids gathered on the stage to watch. Mrs. Orr was standing off to the side munching on an apple.

Walking onto the court, I sized up our opponents. Of course, like all the other
teams in the playoffs, they were older. There were two guys, Bojan and Dustin, and a girl, Sandra. We hadn't played them before, but I'd watched them in a couple of games. The one boy, Bojan, was a great dribbler and Dustin had a good outside shot, but the best player on the team was Sandra. She could shoot, pass and rebound. She was two years older than Kia and a better player, though I hated to admit it.

“Who won the coin toss?” Mr. Roberts asked.

“We did,” I answered, raising my hand.

He tossed the ball to me and I walked over to the side to pass it in. I bounced the ball once and saw Marcus break for the hoop.

“Marcus!” I yelled.

All three members of the other team ran to cover him. I softly tossed the ball to Kia, who was completely alone. She turned, aimed and tossed the ball for the net. A perfect swoosh!

Two–nothing.

Mr. Roberts took the ball and gave it to
Dustin, who walked it out of bounds. The three of us dropped back to a zone around the key. I played at the top, farthest away from the basket. It made sense for the other two to be in close — Marcus had more muscle than me and Kia had more height.

Dustin passed it in to Bojan. I moved out to him, but before I could get close, he put up a long shot. It missed the rim completely, hitting the backboard and then bouncing right to Marcus. He turned and fed it out to me. I was standing just beyond the three-point line. Without hesitating I shot. It was short! It hit the front of the rim. Marcus grabbed it, but was immediately surrounded by all three players. He fed it back out to me.

“Shoot it! Shoot it!” he screamed.

I thought for a split second and then launched it. It hit the rim, rolled around, and dropped!

Five–nothing.

A roar went up behind me from the stage. Kia rushed over and gave me a low five.

“Celebrate after the game!” Marcus barked.

I rushed back to the top of the key and waited for them to put it into play. I knew the game had a long way to go, but I also knew it was already over.

* * *

The whistle blew to signal the end of the game. Marcus offered us a quiet congratulations. We'd all agreed it wasn't ‘cool' to rub it in. We shook hands with the other team. It hadn't been close, but it had been a clean game. I sat down to change shoes and catch my breath. Kia and Marcus plopped down beside me.

“Good game,” Kingsley said, offering his hand to each of us.

“Thanks.”

“I should have figured you three weren't giving it your all before so we couldn't scout you,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked.

“Don't go and try jiving me anymore. You were just fooling around in those first
five games … saving your best until the playoffs.”

“So you think we're better now?” I asked, although the answer was pretty clear.

“For sure,” he said. “It's going to be a good game after school. I'm looking forward to it.”

“Looking forward to it because you think you're going to win?” Kia asked.

Kingsley smiled. “I hope we're going to win, but I don't know. Either way, it'll be a good game. See you after school.”

We watched him walk through the doors, leaving us alone in the gym.

“Do you think we can take them?” Kia asked.

“They're good,” Marcus said.

“Yeah, but do you think we can take them?”

“I've seen every game they've played. Dean always takes the in-bounds and passes off to Kingsley. They use Roy under the rim to grab rebounds. I'll be under the rim … waiting,” he said with a smile. “I can handle him, out-rebound him, box him
out and score on him … easy. That means they're going to have to bring somebody off one of you to double up on me. Then, we hit from the outside.”

“So you think we can take them,” I said.

“If they play the way we've seen them, I don't think we can take them … I think we can kill them. I'm so sure I can practically taste those chocolate chip muffins your mom is making for us.”

Kia whooped with delight. I smiled, but I knew no matter how we did, Marcus wasn't going to be eating any muffins today.