Home Team (8 page)

“For starters, did you know that she sort of thought that you and I were like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“That is so stupid! You're a girl and you're my friend—my
best
friend—but you're not my girlfriend. More like my sister.”

“That's what I told her. Anyway, we are in the same class, and we are teammates and the only two girls on the team. And it's not her fault that boys act goofy around her…well, not completely her fault.”

“I still don't know what you're talking about. I don't act any different around—”

Devon came up with a piece of sod. “Where do you want this one, boss?”

“Any place inside the line works.”

Greg was right behind him with another piece.

“We're not going to get in trouble for this, are we?” Greg asked.

“I don't think so.”

“How would this get us in trouble?” Kia questioned.

“It is sort of like we're doing vandalism,” Greg said.

“Vandalism?” Kia said, sounding offended.

“We're not breaking anything, or stealing anything. It's not like we're spray painting a wall.”

“She's right. We're not even close to a wall.”

Greg still looked worried.

“If there is a problem—and there won't be— but if there is, then I'll say it was all my idea and my fault,” I said. “I'll take all the blame.”

“Thanks, that's nice of you.” He dropped the piece of sod he was holding and started to put it into place.

Kia moved close to me. “Do you think we
will
get in trouble?” she whispered to me.

“Probably not, but if we do, I'll just ask for forgiveness,” I said, giving her Mr. Roberts's line. “The more important thing is whether this is going to work.”

“It looks good…I guess.”

“I just wish we had a better angle,” I said.

“We could climb on the roof.”

“Not high enough and too far away. And we still couldn't tell if it's big enough.”

“I guess you're right,” she said. “We'll just have to wait and see.”

“First we have to finish up. Let's get going. There's not much left to do, but there's not much light left either.”

Chapter Sixteen

I had one eye on my work and one eye on the window. The little slice of sky that I could see was too small and the angle was all wrong for me to see much. Why couldn't my desk be on the other side of the class by the windows?

I deliberately pressed down hard on my pencil and the tip snapped off. I got up and walked toward the pencil sharpener, which was on the window ledge. I walked as quietly and slowly as possible. It wasn't that I didn't want to disturb anybody doing their math, but I didn't want Mrs. Orr to notice me. She was working at her desk, eyes down. If I moved silently, then maybe she wouldn't—

“Nick?” Mrs. Orr said.

“Sharpener,” I replied. I held the pencil up like I was showing proof of where I was going and what I was going to do when I got there.

“Isn't this your third or fourth trip to the sharpener this morning?”

“I haven't really been counting,” I lied. It was my fourth. “But I'm sure you're right. It has been a lot. This must be the worst pencil in the
world
.”

“I have extra pencils.”

It was Lailah. She smiled and I felt all gooey inside. I appreciated her offer, but I didn't need a pencil—I needed to
sharpen
a pencil. Then I noticed the pencil she was holding out for me was brand-new and
really
needed to be sharpened.

I walked over to get the pencil.

“Thanks,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Any planes?” she whispered.

I wasn't even aware she knew why I was going over there so often, but obviously she was.

I shook my head. “Not that I've seen.”

I went over to the window and started to sharpen the pencil—very slowly. I figured I had to make this trip my last because I certainly wasn't going to be able to come back here again.

I bent down slightly so I had a better angle out the window and could see more of the sky and—there was one! A plane was coming in just to the side of the school, just to the side of the field. Perfect, just perfect. Well…assuming it was big enough.

I finished sharpening the pencil and returned to my seat.

For the first part of the morning I'd been worried that the whole plan, all of our effort, was for nothing and it might not work. Now, having seen the plane, I was worried that it
was
going to work.

The twelve of us stood on the basketball court in the schoolyard, but there was no basketball going on. Instead we stood there watching as planes flew overhead.

“Here comes another one!” Kia exclaimed.

It was a big American Airlines plane.

“It's almost right over top of us,” Lailah said.

“It might be better if it was a little off to the side,” I added. “But either way it's good.”

The plane passed by, its engines roaring, and we all laughed and yelled and waved. Even Kia waved. I was going to say something about her doing that, but I thought it was better to just ignore the whole thing. The two of them seemed to be getting along.

Plane after plane kept coming in for a landing. The wind was blowing from the perfect direction to cause the planes to use the runway that brought them right over top of us. Most of the people living in the homes around here would much rather it was blowing from a different direction. But today, that wind direction and those planes flying over were perfect.

I'd had some terrible moments last night—after we'd done all the work and I was home lying in bed—thinking that sometimes there were days and days when no planes came over the school. Today could have been one of those days. Tomorrow could be one of those days, and by the time the wind was blowing in the right direction, the whole thing could have been taken apart. I would have put everybody to work for nothing. I shuddered at that thought. But none of that mattered now as another plane came into view.

This time there was a bigger cheer. I looked around. There were lots of kids reacting to the plane overhead. Were they just imitating us or…?

“Did anybody mention what we did to anybody else?” I asked.

No one answered, the silence submerged by the roar of the plane overhead. Nobody seemed to want to look at me either.

“I told a couple of people,” Greg admitted.

“Me too,” Devon added.

Everybody else nodded in agreement.

“It was supposed to be a secret,” I said.

“It doesn't matter, because it won't be a secret for long,” Kia said. “Besides, what can it hurt?”

I didn't have an answer for that, although I guess part of me still worried about what Greg had mentioned the day before. This
was
sort of vandalism, and we could get in trouble.

I stopped watching the planes and started watching the schoolyard. It was like a ripple as more and more people began to react to the planes coming in. It was like the “secret” was being passed on from person to person until everybody was in on it. I remembered my mother once told me that as soon as a second person knew your secret, it wasn't a secret anymore. We'd started with twelve and now it looked like it was six hundred.

The bell rang and we all started filing into our lines to go in. As we stood there, waiting to enter, another plane came over and the lines erupted in cheering.

“You kids certainly seem to like airplanes,” Mrs. Carson said. She was on yard duty.

“Airplanes
are
pretty exciting,” Kia agreed.

Chapter Seventeen

The phone rang and I picked it up on the first ring.

“Turn on TSN,” Kia said.

“I'm watching
Sports Desk
.”

We had an ongoing argument about which was the better station for sports.

“Good for you, but my guess is that you're
not
the next story up on
Sports Desk
,” she said.

“What?”

“They just went to commercial but they said that they're coming back with a story about us.”

“Us? They mentioned us?”

“Not us, like Nick and Kia, but us as in what we did.”

“Are you sure it's about us?”

“Just turn it on.”

“Of course I will.”

“And Nick, which station is the best again?” Kia asked.

She started laughing and I hung up the phone. I grabbed the converter and punched in the numbers. It was still on commercial for a fancy car, which quickly drove off, and then the commercial ended and we were back to the show. The two hosts—both former professional athletes—were wearing suits and ties and sitting behind a big desk.

“Welcome back. I'm Frankie Horton and with me is my good buddy, Will Strickland.”

“It's great to be here.” He turned directly into the camera. “You're going to
love
this next story,” Frankie said.

“It certainly brought a smile to my face,” Will agreed. “Today support for our hometown Raptors reached new heights.”

The screen changed to show the view of our schoolyard as seen from an airplane. My mouth dropped open—it was perfect!

“Passengers flying into Toronto today were greeted by a gigantic sign cheering on our Raptors,” Will said. “ Those letters that you're seeing on the screen, are over twenty feet high, and the whole thing is one hundred and twenty feet long.”

There it was on the tv screen for everybody watching the show to see—
GO RAPTORS GO
in giant grass letters, brilliant green against the brown of the dirt. It looked like it slanted a little bit to the side, and the
O
in the word
Raptors
was slightly smaller than the rest of the letters, but other than that it was perfect. I'd been so worried that I'd done it wrong, even though I'd used a measuring tape when I'd drawn the outline of the letters in the dirt—but there it was, almost letter-perfect!

“This scene was created in the schoolyard of Clark Boulevard Public School, where the grass on the field is being replaced with new sod.

“At first we thought we had some workers from the sod company to thank—”

“No, no, it's us!” I screamed at the tv.

“But we've subsequently found out the
true
story,” one of them said.

I could only hope it
was
the true story.

“In an exclusive TSN story, we take you live to the Air Canada Centre, where our reporter, Julia Elizabeth, is standing by.”

There were two women standing, one of them—I guess Julia—holding a microphone.

“Hello, I'm here at the ACC with Christina Allison, Director of Community and Public Relations with the Raptors.”

So
that's
what she looked like. She was a lot younger than I'd thought.

“So, Christina, you told us that you might have some insights about the creation of what we're calling the Stonehenge of Raptors signs.”

“Yes, Julia. At first we had no more of an idea than anybody else about who created this sign,” she said. “But when we found out the location—the schoolyard of Clark Boulevard Public School—then I knew immediately.”

“And?” Julia asked.

“We've had a lot of contact with the students of that school.”

“What sort of contact?”

“They have sent us letters, emails, posters, paintings, drawings and written songs, and they have even changed the name of the school teams. They are probably the biggest Raptors fans in the city. And now they have created the biggest Raptors sign in history.”

“It certainly is the biggest one any of us have ever seen. Maybe the Guinness World Records people should be contacted.”

I hadn't even thought of that—that would be so cool.

“So, Christina, who do we have to thank for this wonderful Raptors sign?” Julia asked.

“The whole effort has been led by one of the captains of the basketball team, a young man in grade six named Nick.”

Part of me wanted to cheer and part of me wanted to climb under the bed and hide. It was unbelievable that I was being mentioned on TSN, but also terrible that I was being mentioned. Now, for better or worse, everybody knew or was soon going to know. Everybody, including my parents, teachers, the principal and the guys who were in charge of the sod, would know. Boy, could there ever be trouble.

“Of course, I'm sure he didn't do it by himself,” Christina went on. “This was probably the effort of the entire basketball team.”

That was so good she'd mentioned everybody. We all deserved the credit…and we could all share the blame as well.

“They sound like tremendous fans of the Raptors,” Julia said.

“That school is one in a thousand. And because of that I'm going to make a special offer to them.”

I jumped out of my seat. It had worked! They were coming to our school!

“I will be contacting their school tomorrow to offer them an invitation for the entire Clark Boulevard basketball team to attend this weekend's game. They will be our very special guests and will watch the game from the owners' private box!”

I screamed out in excitement. This was incredible! Not just a game but seeing it from the owners' box! Unbelievable!

“So, we hope that the captain of the team, Nick, and the rest of the members of the Clark Boulevard team are out there watching,” Julia said. “And now, back to Will and Frankie.”

I slumped back onto my bed and the phone rang. I reached for it and then hesitated. It could be Kia. It could be somebody else who wasn't so happy about what we did. I looked at the call display before I decided to answer. It was Kia. I picked up the phone.

Chapter Eighteen

When I told Greg that I'd be the one to get in trouble if anyone did, I was just talking to make him feel better. Now, as I sat in the principal's office along with my mother, I wasn't feeling like that was such a wonderful plan. The only other kid here was Kia, and it wasn't hard to notice that neither of
her
parents was here.