Three On Three (9 page)

I looked around the gym. The entire stage was covered with kids. The others sat on the steps. Along the sidelines, standing or sitting on benches, were more than half the teachers in the school as well as a few parents. Where was my mom?

I hadn't been able to do school work all afternoon. I kept thinking about what Marcus had said about going back to my place after the game for our ‘victory' muffins. I couldn't help but think how much easier it
would be if we lost. Then everybody could just go home and nothing more would have to be said.

“You okay, Nick?” Kia asked.

“Sure, no problem. Why?”

“You just looked kind of lost. Are you nervous?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Way past nervous. I'm scared.”

“Don't be scared,” Marcus interrupted. “There's nothing here to be scared of.”

I nodded my head in agreement, but then I caught sight of Roy. I wasn't sure that Marcus was right.

Then my attention was caught by my mother and father walking into the gym! They walked right up to us. I was so surprised to see them both, I forgot I was standing in front of the whole school and gave them both a hug.

“I thought it was more important to be here than at any meeting,” my Dad said.

“And I've brought you all something for good luck,” Mom added.

“You have? What?”

She opened the bag she was carrying and removed six bright purple, Raptors sweat-bands. She handed two to each of us. We mumbled thanks and put them on.

“I was out at the store this afternoon, saw them, just pulled out my
wallet
and bought them,” she said.

“Your wallet!”

“Yes. I found it this morning stuffed in a crack in the couch. You were right, Nick, when you said it would turn up. You were right about everything.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder.

“These are great sweatbands,” Kia said. “I love the Raptors.”

“It seemed right to get you Raptors wear — you three are going to eat up the other team.”

The shrill blast of the whistle let us know it was time to start.

“Good luck!” she said and reached out and gave me another hug.

“Yeah, good luck,” my father said. He reached over and shook my hand, then
Kia's and finally Marcus'. They went and took seats on the sidelines.

“Okay, let's do it,” Marcus said. “Just like we planned it.”

I walked over and took the ball from Mr. Roberts. He signaled play to start. Kia set up in the middle and, as expected, Dean took up a spot beside her. Marcus broke for the net and Kingsley went with him, leaving Roy to cover me. Roy rushed up right beside me.

“Surprise, you little geek. You're mine,” he said.

I held the ball, trying to think of what to do. Roy was supposed to go under the net, the way he had in all the other games. He waved his hands around, trying to block my view. Kingsley was on top of Marcus like a blanket. Kia broke toward me and I sent in a bounce pass. It hit her hands, but glanced off loose and Dean grabbed it. Dean made a quick move and, as Marcus went out to meet him, lobbed it over his head to Kingsley, who laid it up for two quick points.

A wave of cheers washed over us from the stage.

Two more times I put it in and two more times they put it in the net.

“Time-out!” Marcus called out.

“Time-out?” Mr. Roberts questioned. “There aren't any time-outs.”

“Umm … I need to tie my shoe,” Marcus said.

“It isn't untied,” Mr. Roberts said, pointing down at Marcus' feet.

“I'm sorry, did I say tie? I meant I have to take it off because I have something in it.”

“Okay, everybody take a short break,” Mr. Roberts answered.

Marcus moved over to the bench and motioned for us to follow him. He sat down and slowly took off his shoe.

“This isn't working. We have to make some changes. Do you see what they're doing?” he asked.

“Yeah, they're beating us good,” Kia answered.

“They're playing smart. They're keeping
Nick out of the action and playing two on two against me and Kia. We have to turn it back around.”

“But how?” I asked.

“I'm going to in-bounds the ball. That'll keep Kingsley away from the hoop. Kia, you stay outside with your man. I want Nick to work on Roy.”

“Me on Roy?”

“We've seen you dribble around him. I know if you box him out, you can pull the rebounds away from him. He's only got one thing going for him.”

“Size?” I asked.

“No, the fact that you're afraid of his size. As long as you play him hard and aren't afraid of him, his size doesn't mean anything.”

“Come on, let's get going!” Mr. Roberts called out.

“Okay, Nick, it's up to you.”

We walked back to the court. Mr. Roberts handed the ball to me. I handed it to Marcus and broke for the hoop. Before anybody could react, I was past them. Marcus
lobbed it to me. I laid it up for an easy two points.

The cheer from the crowd was louder than it had been for any of the other points. Above everybody else's voice I could hear my mother scream and my father yell.

Mr. Roberts gave the ball to Kingsley, who took it to the sidelines. Marcus stood in front of him waving his arms like he was about to take off.

Roy set up under the basket and I set up right with him, close enough to tell he had eaten onions at lunch. He pushed against me. I planted my feet, leaned over and shoved back. His face registered shock — he hadn't expected that from me. The pass came in for Roy. I leaped into the air and poked it away. Kia scrambled after it, picked up the loose ball and pushed it outside to Marcus. He faked a drive for the hoop, set, and put the ball up. It dropped in.

I found myself cheering along with the kids on the stage. I felt a shove on my
back and practically staggered over. I turned around. Roy had pushed me, but Mr. Roberts' back was to us. He hadn't seen a thing.

“Keep your distance or things won't end when the game ends,” he said so quietly that nobody else could hear him.

I was stunned for a second — and in that second the ball flew over my head to Roy. He put the ball up as I recovered and moved in. The ball bashed heavily off the backboard. I boxed him out to control the rebound. The ball dropped right into my hands. I began to dribble when I was shoved so hard, I tumbled over.

A whistle blew. “Personal foul!” Mr. Roberts called out.

“I didn't even touch him!” Roy bellowed.

“Button it,” Mr. Roberts said. “One more word and I'll add a technical foul.”

Kingsley grabbed Roy by the arm and pulled him away. Roy continued to mutter under his breath.

“Two shots and your team gets the ball back,” Mr. Roberts said.

I stood at the line and took a long, deep breath. The first shot went up and right in — nothing but net.

“Lucky, really lucky!” Roy yelled.

Mr. Roberts threw the ball back to me. I looked at it and then over at Roy.

I smiled. “Who needs luck when you got skill,” I said. I put the ball up. It went in, tying the score.

Mr. Roberts took the ball and handed it to Marcus, who was waiting to put it into play. Roy quickly came up beside me. I faked left, spun right and drove for the net. A quick bounce pass hit me in the hands and I put it up. I released the ball and watched it soar up to the net … then I felt a smash to the head. I crumpled to the floor.

“It was an accident! It was an accident!” Roy yelled.

“Are you all right?” Mr. Roberts asked as he bent down over top of me. Marcus and Kia and Kingsley and Dean crowded around.

“I'm … did the basket go in?” I asked.

“Yeah, it went in,” Kia answered.

“Then I'm okay,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. I looked up at my parents. My mother looked worried and my father angry. He raised a thumb and nodded.

“Points count. Personal foul. One more shot and then you get the ball over,” Mr. Roberts called out.

“That's not fair!”

Mr. Roberts pointed a finger at Roy. “One more word or one more foul — you're gone and your team loses. Got it?”

Roy grumbled but didn't answer.

I took the ball and stood at the top of the key to take the free throw. The shot went off the side of the rim and bounced away. Kia took the loose ball and threw it over to Marcus, waiting to put it back into play. Roy rushed right up to my side and pushed in against me.

“No way you're going to win,” he snapped.

“That's where you're wrong. We've already won. You're just not smart enough to know it yet.”

Marcus dribbled the ball, moving in and out, keeping it out of Kingsley's reach. There were only a few seconds left in the game. Suddenly he snapped the ball in to me. Kingsley rushed over to double-team me and I bounced it back out to Marcus. He pumped once then threw up a beautiful sky rocket. Just as it crashed through the net, the whistle blew and the game was over!

We'd won! We'd won!

Marcus and Kia and I hugged each other. Then we were practically bowled over by a crush of kids who charged off the stage and slapped us on the back or shook our hands. Kingsley and Dean were right there congratulating us as well, although I couldn't see Roy anywhere. Through the thicket of kids, I caught a glimpse of my parents, off to the side, hugging each other. As the kids filtered out of the gym, my parents came over to offer congratulations.

“I told you you could do it, honey,” Mom said as she gave me a big hug.

“All of you did wonderfully,” Dad offered.

“I'm so proud of you — all three of you,” she added.

Marcus and Kia beamed brightly.

“And I'd like to offer my congratulations … and to introduce Mrs. Phillips — Roy's mother,” she gestured to a woman standing beside her.

“You're Roy's mother?” I asked in dis-belief. I didn't figure Roy had a mother. I just thought he was born and raised under a rock.

“Yes. I want to apologize for his behavior. He's had a hard time settling in to the new school.”

“The Phillips are the people who moved into that new house on Hudson,” Mom said.

“Hudson? You live on Hudson?”

“Yes, the big white house right on the corner of your street.”

“My street?” I asked in amazement. “But
I thought Roy lived in the …” I didn't complete the thought.

“In the what?” Mom asked.

“In the … neighborhood.”

“Well, he does. Maybe some time you can drop over and you and Roy can play,” his mother suggested.

I didn't even know how to handle that one. Marcus, who was standing behind the woman, made a gesture like he was gagging.

“Perhaps sometime,” Mom said, “but if you'll excuse us for now, we have a victory celebration to plan.” Then she turned back to us. “What do you say if, instead of muffins, we take you three out for dinner? You can choose any place you want to go.”