Full Court Press (6 page)

“And Rajinder and Roy would have a —”

“Roy!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, Roy. If you haven't noticed, he's not that bad a player.”

“He's a jerk!” I snapped.

“I'm not arguing that, but we're talking about his basketball skills. He's good under the hoop, can rebound, is rough and has an attitude.”

“Of course he has an attitude — a bad attitude,” I said.

“That depends. He doesn't like losing and if he's on your side you might think that's a good attitude to have. And if I'm right, then that only leaves one spot on the roster,” Kia said.

“I don't like that. I just thought it would be the two of us together, like always.”

“Me too.”

We walked along in silence as the thought of us being separately sunk in. What would it like to be on the team without Kia? Who would I talk to? Who would I walk home with after practice?

“I hate walking home from school without you,” Kia said, practically reading my mind.

“I can't even remember the last time we didn't come home together.”

“I can. Last May. You were sick.”

“But we won't be able to any time there's a practice or game,” I said. “And Mr. Roberts said they'd be one or the other almost every night for the whole season.”

“I'd still come over to your place. It would just be later after the practices, and because I'll be later then I'll be hungrier.”

“You might even want to drop into your place for a snack before you come to my place,” I suggested.

“Why would I do that? It would take me even longer to practice, go home and then go to your place.”

“So you think you'll be the one who makes the team and I won't?” I asked in shock.

“I could be wrong,” Kia said with a shrug. “Maybe I won't make the team either.”

“Or maybe I'll be the only one who's selected.”

“I guess that could happen,” she said.

“You guess? Since when did you think you were better than me?”

“I didn't say I was better than you.”

“Good because —”

“I just think I'm a better choice for what the team needs,” Kia said, cutting me off.

“What do you mean by that?” I demanded.

“You're good under the basket, getting rebounds and driving the hoop,” she said.

“Yeah…”

“And I have got a better outside shot than you.”

I couldn't really argue with that. She did have a good jump shot.

“So what's your point?” I asked.

“They already have a bunch of guys who are bigger than you who can get rebounds. But me, I'm one of the few people out there who can hit from the outside.”

“I do more than go under the net. I can shoot too, and pass and cover and —”

“And so can I,” Kia said, cutting me off again.

I hated when she did that.

“I just know which one of us won the last game of one-on-one we played,” I said.

“That was months ago,” Kia objected.

It was almost three months ago. We stopped playing against each other because neither one
of us was a good loser — or a good winner either.

“I also know who won the second last game we played,” Kia said.

“And I know which one of us has won more of the games than the other,” I snapped.

“You do?” she asked.

“Yes, I do, and you're looking at him! I've won twenty-eight of the thirty-nine games we're played over the last two years.”

“You've been keeping track of who's won and lost?” Kia asked in amazement.

I suddenly felt very embarrassed.

“At least if you were counting, you should have counted right,” she said. “It's only twenty-five to fourteen.”

“No,” I said shaking my head. “I've won twenty-eight games to… wait a second… how do you know how many games you won?”

“I couldn't count on you to keep it straight, anymore than I can count on you to sink your shots from the outside,” she said.

“Really! Then maybe there's something else you shouldn't count on.”

“What's that?” Kia questioned.

“Coming over to my place for a snack,” I said as I stomped off by myself.

Last summer when we went to Nova Scotia for two weeks — that had been the last time I'd gone more than a day without talking to Kia.

She hadn't come over after school on Friday, or called or come over on either Saturday or Sunday. I knew how stubborn she could be. My mother always said that Kia was one of the two most stubborn people she'd ever known. She considered me the other one. Of course, that meant that we'd had our fights over the years. After all, we'd been friends for five years, but those fights had never lasted this long.

My mom had figured out something was wrong within two seconds of me walking in the door after school on Friday. She'd yelled out, ‘Hi, Nick… hi, Kia!' from the other room, and when only one of us answered back, it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to know something was different. She asked me what had happened and I told her I didn't want to talk about it. Of course, not wanting to talk about it, and having to talk about it were two different things.

I explained things, atleast how I saw things — Kia thinking she was better than me — and then my mother took Kia's side. She finallys aid that, if she'd known this was going to cause problems between me and Kia, she never, ever would have encouraged us to try out for the team. That was just what I needed. Now nobody, including my mother or Kia, wanted me on the team.

I'd waited for Kia to call on me to go to school this morning. Like I did ever y school day. She didn't show up on time. I even waited an extra five minutes before I left on my own. It was strange walking by myself, but I guess it could be good practice.
I might be walking a lone a lot over the next few weeks. Either because Kia made the team and I didn't, or because I made the team and she didn't. Neither way would be very good, although I knew which one would be worse.

I slowed down as I saw the school in the distance. I felt very alone as I walked through the schoolyard. There were lots of kids out, playing, standing, skipping, kicking a ball around in the field. I didn't see Kia anywhere — not that I was looking for her.

I came up to the doors closest to the gym and froze. Inside, on the wall by the gym, the team list would be posted. I suddenly felt trapped. I couldn't go back home, and I didn't want to go forward. What if my name wasn't on the list? What if Kia's was? What if neither of us made the team? What if I made the team… with or without Roy? I strained to think of a possibility that would be good, and couldn't think of one. But I did know that I couldn't just stand here all day. I took a deep breath and pulled the door open.

The halls were still relatively kid-free. A couple of teachers were standing at the doors of
their rooms, coffee cups in hand, talking, and some radio station was playing over the P.A. Up ahead I could see kids clustered together beside the doors to the gym. I saw Kia partially hidden behind the bigger grade five students.

Kia came toward me and stopped.

“I wasn't right,” she said.

“You weren't?” Did that mean that I'd made the team and she hadn't?

“Yes. I had it figured wrong.” She paused. “We both made the team!”

“Are you sure?”

“I can read, you know!”

“I didn't mean that… I just mean…,” I paused and looked down at the ground. “Maybe I shouldn't have… you know… when we were… on Friday.”

“Me too,” she said. “I was just… I'm really… you know… too.”

“Let's just forget it,” I said.

“Already forgotten. Do you want to know who else is on the team?”

“Yeah, definitely!”

“Everybody we talked about on Friday except for Scott.”

“You mean Roy is on the team?” I said loudly.

“Yeah, he made the —”

“Are you surprised by that?”

I knew without looking around that the voice was Roy's and he was standing right behind me. Slowly I turned around.

“So are you surprised that I'm on the team?” he demanded again.

“No… I'm just…”

“We figured you'd be on the team,” Kia said, stepping in to fill my silence.

“You did?” Roy asked. Now he sounded surprised.

“We were talking about it on Friday. We thought you'd be on the team, but we weren't so sure we'd be there on the list as well,” Kia continued.

Roy now looked even more confused.

“So I guess that makes us teammates,” Kia said.

“Nope,” Roy said, moving right in my face. “It's like I said to you before. Just because we're on the same team don't make us teammates.”

Roy brushed against me as he moved off down the hall toward the doors.

“I guess he's still being honest,” I said after I was sure he was a safe distance away.

“He might learn to —”

“Nice going, guys,” Marcus said.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Does this mean you can talk to us now?” Kia asked.

Marcus shrugged. “I guess I can talk to my teammates. See you later… at practice after school.”

* * *

“Congratulations!” Mrs. Orr said as we walking into the room.

We were the first two in the class. Every-body else was still waiting outside in the line. We came straight from the gym when we heard the bell, like we had every day this week.

“Thanks,” Kia said. “You already knew?”

“I've known since Friday. Mr. Roberts discussed his choices with all the teachers on Friday to make sure we were still in approval with you being part of the team.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. If I had known on Friday it would have saved me and Kia a big fight, and me two bad nights' sleep.

“He said that as far as he knows you are the
first grade threes to ever make a school team in anything. You must be very proud of your accomplishment.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“You sound like you're not so sure about it,” Mrs. Orr said. “Aren't you happy?”

“I'm happy.”

“Yeah, we're very happy,” Kia added.

I turned and went to hang up my backpack. Happy didn't really describe how I felt. It was more like… like… like I'd been swimming and I'd dived down really deep to get something, and as I was coming up and up and up and up, trying to reach the surface, I was afraid that I'd run out of air. And then finally, I burst through and took a deep breath of air. It wasn't happy. It was relief. Like I was able to breathe again. It wasn't nearly as good making the team as it would have been bad if I didn't.

“And because you made the team I'll be assigning you two extra homework tonight,” Mrs. Orr said.

“You'll be what?” Kia questioned, like she couldn't believe what she'd just heard.

“Extra homework.”

“But, but… that's not fair!” Kia protested.

Mrs. Orr furrowed her brow like she was thinking extra hard. “It most certainly is fair. You two will have to make up for the school time you're going to missing tomorrow.”

“Why will we be missing school? “I asked.

“We haven't been late since that first time and we won't be, we promise!” Kia pleaded.

“And I appreciate that. But that's not why you'll be missing school tomorrow. You won't be coming back to class after afternoon recess.”

“We won't?”

“Your entire team will be excused for the last part of the day,” Mrs. Orr said.

“We have extra practice?” I asked.

“In a manner of sorts. Apparently the team will be going to another school for an exhibition game.”

“Fantastic!” Kia exclaimed.

I nodded my head in agreement. I had lots of things going through my mind, none of which had the word ‘fantastic' attached to them. At least there'd only be one night to worry about what might go wrong.