Full Court Press (3 page)

“Hold the balls!” Mr. Roberts bellowed and the bouncing stopped. “Everybody line up right across the baseline!”

Kia and I jumped down off the edge of the stage and took a place at the very end.

“Welcome to the first basketball tryout,” Mr. Roberts said as he started to walk down the line. “It's great that so many of you want to be on the team. Unfortunately you all cannot be part of the team. There are only ten spots available.”

Ten spots meant two less possibilities for me and Kia. This had suddenly gotten harder before it had even started.

“We will be meeting before and after school all week. After Friday's last workout I'll be
making my decisions about who will be on the team. A list will be posted on the gym door Monday morning. I know that some people will not be —”

Mr. Roberts stopped mid-sentence as he came to the end of the line and saw me and Kia. He looked confused.

“Nick… Kia… I didn't expect to see the two of you here this morning.”

“Where else would we be?” Kia asked.

“It's just that you're in grade three.”

“But we're allowed to tryout, aren't we?” I asked.

“Well, sure… I guess… anybody in the school can try out.”

“Good,” Kia said. “Because we want to be on the team.”

Mr. Roberts nodded his head in agree-ment, but there was something about the look on his face that said he had some serious doubts.

“Okay, we've wasted enough time. We're going to do some warm-ups and then once everybody is good and loose we're going to do some suicides. Let's get going!”

* * *

I took a deep swig from my bottle of water. It felt good going down. Mr. Roberts hadn't even let us stop for a water break during the whole tryout.

“That was some workout,” Kia commented.

I nodded my head and then took a towel out of my bag to wipe the sweat off my face.

“Mr. Roberts was pretty tough,” Kia said.

“Yeah, he was.” I didn't say anything, but I thought he was especially tough on the two of us.

“All right, everybody!” Mr. Roberts. “Get to class. The bell be going shortly.”

Kids started to move more quickly, gathering up their things and heading for the door.

A couple of times during the workout I'd heard comments from kids about us being there. I think it was even worse for Kia. Some of the guys had made snide remarks about Kia being a girl. Maybe it was bad enough to be competing with a grade three, but a grade three
girl
seemed to make it even worse. I hadn't really thought about it much before — I hardly even thought of Kia as a girl — but it must have been even harder for her to try out for the team.

Kia and I started out along with the few remaining stragglers.

“Nick, Kia,” Mr. Roberts called out. “Could I speak to you to for a minute.”

The last few kids exited the gym, leaving us alone with Mr. Roberts. I wasn't sure what he wanted to say, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't like it. Had he decided to cut us already?

“I just wanted to talk to the two of you for a few minutes,” he began. “I'm a little concerned about the two of you being on the team. You know we'll be playing against other schools, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Kia said.

“And I'm just worried about the fact that the other school teams will all be made up of older and bigger kids.”

“We know,” I said.

“I don't want you two getting hurt. Those kids won't know the two of you and they won't necessarily be as gentle with you as the kids at our school were during the three-on-three tournament.”

“Gentle?” I asked. I still had sore ribs on one side from where Roy had elbowed me in the last game of the three-on-three tournament.

“These games will be very serious.”

“No more serious than the games our rep team plays,” Kia said.

“But the difference is that you play those games against kids your own age, right?” Mr. Roberts asked.

“Yeah. We play in a league where everybody is the same age. The older kids play minor-bantam.”

“That's what I thought,” Mr. Roberts said. “I just don't know if I want to take responsibility if one of you gets hurt.”

“But we have letters of permission from our parents,” I said, pulling the form out of my pocket.

“This piece of paper will protect me, but it won't protect you,” Mr. Roberts said. “The other schools are going to take advantage of your size, or I guess your lack of size. They're going to put somebody big on you to shove you around, intimidate you, create a mismatch… at least that's what I'd do.”

Of course he was right. That's what any good coach would do.

“Is there any way I can talk you two out of this?” Mr. Roberts asked.

“Nope,” Kia said decisively.

I nodded my head in agreement, although he had almost convinced me. I liked basketball. I didn't like getting smacked around.

“In that case you're welcome to come to the rest of the tryouts.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Just keep in mind that coming out isn't a guarantee of making the team. Winning the three-on-three tournament last week means absolutely nothing. You're going to have to earn your spot on the team.”

“We understand,” Kia said.

“And just because you're younger doesn't mean I'm going to take it easier on you. If anything I'm going to be harder.”

I nodded my head. I thought that was what he'd already done in the first practice.

“And even if you do make the team, you can't expect to get much playing time. You'll be well down the bench. Do you understand all that?”

“We understand,” I said and Kia mumbled agreement.

“And you still want to come to the try-outs?” Mr. Roberts asked.

“We do,” Kia said.

“Then I'll see you two right after school.
Don't be late or you'll have to run laps. And speaking of late, you both better get going or you're going to be late for —”

His words were cut off by the loud ringing of the bell.

“Tell Mrs. Orr that you were late because you were talking to me,” Mr. Roberts said.

“We're not late yet,” I said. “We just have to get to class before the national anthem starts.”

“See you later, sir,” Kia said as we rushed out of the gym.

We hurried along the hall toward our room.

“That wasn't very encouraging,” Kia said as we walked.

“That's an understatement. He basically said that he didn't want us on the team, and he'd be really tough on us during the tryouts, and even if we do make the team, either the other team will be shoving us around, or we'll be spending most of our time on the bench.” I paused. “Do you still think we should try?”

“What do you think?”

“I think we should —”

Suddenly I was grabbed from the back, spun around and slammed against the wall.

“Leave him alone!” Kia yelled.

“Shut up!” Roy snapped at her, but he did let go of me. “I wanted to have a little conversation with you two.”

“Maybe we don't want to talk to you,” Kia said.

“That's no problem, because I'm going to do all the talking and you two are going to do all the listening.”

“We don't have time for either,” I said. “If we don't hurry, we'll be late for class.”

“Stay where you are or you're going to be late in a whole different way. Like in dead, departed, the late,” Roy said.

“Please stand for the national anthem,” the P.A. crackled.

Now it was official. We were late. I looked up and down the hall. There was nobody else in sight.

“I don't like you two,” Roy said, wagging a finger in my face.

Now
there
was news.

“And I'm liking you even less by the minute. What's the big idea about coming out this morning?”

“We were just trying out for the team,” I said.

“That team is only for grade fives,” Roy snapped.

“Mr. Roberts said we were welcome to try out,” Kia said.

“I don't care what Mr. Roberts said. I'm telling you that I don't want you two on my team!”

“Your team?” Kia questioned. “What makes you think you'll even make the team?”

I had to hand it to Kia. She had more guts than me. Then again, it would be my guts on the floor if Roy was mad.

“You better hope I make the team,” Roy said ominously. “Because if you two make the team

and I don't… believe me, I won't be happy. Understand?” he asked as he poked me hard in the chest with a finger.

“I… I understand,” I stammered. There wasn't a lot of room to not understand. “Maybe we could all be on the team together.”

“Forget it! I don't want to be on the same team with you!”

“You can't threaten us,” Kia said.

“It looks like I just did. Besides,” Roy said with a smirk, “this isn't a threat… it's a promise.”

He stepped forward until he stood right over top of me. I stumbled back a few inches into the wall. At that instant the national anthem ended and I was now free to run — or at least try to run.

“I'm going to —”

“Why aren't you three in class?”

Roy stepped back and we all turned around to see Mr. White, our music teacher, walking toward us. I was so grateful to see him.

“Why are you just standing there?” Mr. White asked.

“We were just coming from basketball practice,” Kia said.

“And Mr. Roberts wanted to talk to us
after the practice, so we were a little later than everybody else,” I explained.

“And then we had to stop and wait in the hall until the national anthem was finished,” Roy added. “You didn't want us to walk when that was playing, did you?”

His voice was taunting. Not exactly the right tone to take with a teacher.

“No, of course not. But you're supposed to be in class before it starts, so you were already late. Now get to class!”