Authors: Kat Kirst
They tried to drive it into their court, but we were focused on
wh
ich
way the ball was supposed to go. Suddenly whistles ripped the air, and to my horror, Johnny lay mid-court on his back writhing in pain.
“Oh, man,” Wes moaned. “Not now!”
I knew Johnny well enough to see he wasn’t faking
—this
was for real.
Coaches and umpires hustled to his side; his parents stood up and pushed their way worriedly down the bleachers to the sidelines. Seven
mi
nutes later, Johnny was benched
wearing a resolved frown and a large icepack on his right ankle.
The ref
blew his whistle and announced,
"Two shots rest on the first!” and the game was on again. Coach, hoping for inspiration or luck, had subbed Sizzle in, and from the looks of things, Sizzle was pretty nervous. Rushing by him I purposely brushed my shoulder into his.
“Relax
,
” I said. “We need a little of what you do best. Let’s see some Sizzle.”
Sizzle swallowed, gulped a deep breath
,
and nodded his head once. I gave him a reassuring smile; the game went on.
Since
Nolanville
had fouled, Seth was given two free throws
.
H
e took three dribbles and threw a total ai
r ball. Half of
the crowd moaned;
the other half cheered.
“C’mon, man, we need this,” I yelled.
Seth took a deep
breath and three more dribbles
before
fading back,
spinning the ball
,
and shooting. It rolled around the rim daring to fall over the side and slipped in. It was good for one, but one wasn’t enough.
I knew I shouldn’t break my concentration for even one second, but I had to check on Coach. He was pacing the sidelines, rubbing his hands on the back of his pants, his face set in a stony mask of concentration. Johnny
was busy adjusting his ice pack and watching the game intensely when his eyes suddenly lit up with s
urprise and anticipation. That was about the time
I realized the crowd was moving, standing, cheering and roaring, and I didn’t have any idea why.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something whiz across mid-court. It was Sizzle driving the ball down the court, finding the opening, dodging, pivoting,
bringing
the ball home.
Almost immediately the crowd filled the gym with the familiar chant: “Ten
!
”
Sizzle pivoted out of the way of a
Nolanville
Cougar who had driven him back to the wrong side of the mid-court line
.
“Nine
!
Eight
!
”
Sizzle turned in a circle, faked a pass and took off the right way again
.
“
Seven
! S
ix
! F
ive
!
”
H
e zipped by a Cougar who was hopelessly overwhelmed, out of formation, and had left him open
.
“Four
! T
hree
! T
wo
!
”
Sizzle, barely pas
t the foul line stopped, focused
and threw the most beautiful Hail Mary Shot made of air and arch and swoosh
for three!
The buzzer pierced the moment.
It was unbelievable. It was a dream. The gym exploded! Even the opposition
cheered
. We attacked Sizzle and raised him high in the air as the stands emptied, frantic to become part of the celebration. Coach flew onto the court, both fists in the air, screaming, “That’s what I’m
talkin
’ about! That’s what I’m
talkin
’ about!”
That night Sizzle was famous all over again when the local news played a video of his
shot three times on their ten o
’clock sports segment because even though we are just a
freshman
team, we are now the
Freshman
District Champions, and a dream shot like that doesn’t happen very often.
The next week at school Sizzle nursed a sore shoulder from all the upperclassmen slapping it so
hard
,
and
,
better yet, he got more attention from the ladies than I think he ever did. Even though he was too shy to know what to do with it all, his phone filled up with numbers he didn’t have a chance of getting a week ago.
A week later at
our banquet
,
Seth made a big speech about him and then went on to say how great joining our team had been and what an awesome bunch of guys we all were. Seth’s speech was really something. It
even got me a feeling a little
emotional.
In the car
on the way home, my parents told me what a nice boy they thought Seth was.
“You should have Seth over,” Mom s
uggested
.
“How come I haven’t heard much about him?” Dad asked.
“
Cause he’s too busy kissing on Liz,” my sister piped up, so I slugged her one. “Andy hit me,” she whined.
“Andrew,” Mom sighed, “
d
on’t
hit your sister.”
“It’s not like I hit her hard.
” I gave Sarah the evil eye
,
watching her dramatically rub her shoulder. She screwed up her face and whimpered
,
keeping
one eye on the front seat
for any reaction from Mom or Dad
.
“Faker!”
I whispered.
She whimpered louder. Whimper, check, whimper, check.
“He’s on my side of the seat!” she complained. “You’re so selfish, you want everything just because you think you’re famous!”
Dad thankfully ignored her. “What do you know about Johnny’s ankle?”
“The doctor says the sprain will take about four weeks to heal and Johnny has to be on crutches for at least that long, not that he will. You know Johnny. He’s not one for hobbling around on crutches.”
“He better do what the doctor says,” Mom warned, “or he’ll make it worse. If he wants to continue with sports, he’d better take care of himself. Is he planning on going out for track?”
“No. He’s taking a break from sports to do the spring play. He says he’s trying out for the old grandfather. He gets to do an English accent, and he thinks having a limp will add to the character.”
Dad laughed
.
“That Johnny
is
a character.”
“So
,
back to
Seth,” Mom
insisted
, “w
hy don’t you like him?”
I sighed; I really didn’t want to get into this. “I don’t trust him.”
“Why?”
“He’s just not
nice. Mom, I can pick my own friends.”
“I only thought it would be good, him being new to the area and all. Why isn’t he nice?”
“Leave him alone, Mary. He has his reasons.”
“I just wanted to know if he had anything to do with that internet thing.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “He didn’t, did he?”
I took the easy way out. “He swears he didn’t.”
“Has the girl they made fun of come back to school yet?”
I really wanted,
needed
t
o change the subject. “The girl”
was Kate, and Kate wasn’t just “a girl
,
”
she was my friend
whom I wasn’t allowed
any contact with. B
ut I wasn’t going to go into all that with my mother. Moms never
seem to
know when to let a subject slide.
“Has she come back yet?”
“No,” was all I could say because I had promised Liz I wouldn’t say anymore. By now this whole conversation was making me uncomfortable
,
and since I was trapped in the back seat of the car it wasn’t like I could leave or anything.
Mom wouldn’t let it drop. “It’s been over a week hasn’t it?”
“My shoulder still hurts,” Sarah complained.
I
recognized an
escape and took it. “Did I really hit you that hard? Sorry. Let me rub it for you. I guess I’m stronger than I thought.” I rubbed her shoulder like crazy
,
making little comforting noises as I did it.
It worked; the conversation shifted to parent things
.
Mom’s car was still making that clicking noise, and the new insurance bill had come in higher than expected. All of that gave me time to think: Seth had made it a point to be complimentary about our team. Instead of doing what I expected and taking all the glory, he
had
spread it around
, pointing out to
everyone how much of a team effort it had been, calling many of us by name and saying something nice about us. When it was my turn, he said he was especially pleased to have someone like me on his team, someone
he could always count on to stand for what was right.
Maybe I was wrong about him.
Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with the whole Facebook/Kate thing. Maybe it has all been
Chrissy’s
idea to get the attention she always craved. After all it was Charlie she was in love with, not Seth. Maybe I had been wrong about everything.
I decided to give Seth another chance.
The next day Liz and I had a date to meet at the park. I waited around for her so long, I was about to climb back on my bike and go home when I heard her calling me.
“Andy! Wait!” She pedaled towards me, all arms and legs, her beautiful hair streaming behind her, changing from red to copper in the sunlight.
“I’m
sooo
sorry I’m late; I got caught on the phone with Kate. She’s totally upset.”
A sneaky self-
deprecating
twinge of jealousy zinged through my brain before I reminded myself how horrible it had been and still must be for Kate
; I
squelched
the jealousy
.
“How’s she doing?”
“Not too well. Her parents have decided to cut her off completely from Jameson. That’s why you can’t see her yet. They’re making her go to St. Mary’s
,
and Kate doesn’t want to do it.”
“She’d rather come back to Jameson and face all the talk?”
“You don’t know Kate as well as I
do
. She’s quiet and shy, but she’s got spunk. That’s one of the things I like best about her. When she believes in something
,
she believes in it, and by not coming back
,
she feels like some kids will think she really did snitch on Seth.”
“Whether she comes back or not, they’re
go
ing to
believe what they want to believe. Trust me; they’ll go for the drama.”
“Yeah.
You should see how beaten down she is. She isn’t eating, and I don’t think she sleeps much at night.
I
kinda
hoped all
the love for hallway drama
would end once we were in high school, but I think it only gets worse.”
“Sure. People can start much better rumors in high school than junior high.”
“I guess,” Liz said, shaking her head. “Some of these people need to get a life.”
I leaned into her. “Someone here needs to get a kiss.”
We parked our bikes, and I took her hand.
“I want to show you something. It’s kind of weird, but Johnny and I found this place when we were about eight. Watch your footing
—we’re going to
cross over the railroad bridge.”
Liz gripped my hand harder as I led her over the old
, wooden
train trestle Johnny and I had been traversing for years. Oiled
,
w
eather
-
worn
slats nestled between the iron rails Johnny and I had
left
pennies and nickels on
to be flattened by train wheels
and
,
later,
carried for good luck charms. Nature in a show of freshly budded greenery laced a lazy river flowing a hundred feet below us dotted with old
,
wooden pilings, their heads snapped off. Once on the other side, we jumped down to a
well-worn
path
,
which led to the secret, shady underside of the trestle made of cement and cool, new grass.