Millionaires for the Month

by Stacy McAnulty

  Another five million dollars? Benji bit his tongue before that could slip out. He didn’t exactly trust a Laura Friendly surprise. She suddenly pulled a whistle from her pocket and blew. Spotlights illuminated the entrance, and the sound of dribbling echoed through the building.

  “I thought you’d like to play a little three versus three, and I asked a few friends to join you.” She gestured to the four men entering the court.

  Not four men.

  Four NBA players.

  Four All-Star NBA players.

  “What!” Felix screamed.

  The guys jogged to the far basket, and each dunked the ball. Then they joined Benji, Felix, and Laura Friendly at center court.

  “This is Christian Hamilton, Elijah Nichols, Xavier Cahill, and Caleb Autry.” Laura Friendly introduced the players, though they needed no introduction.

  Benji gave them each a high five and pulled out his cell phone for a series of selfies.

  “Go ahead, pick your teams,” Laura Friendly ordered. “Felix, you’re small. You go first.”

  “I…I, um…” Felix seemed to forget how to talk.

  “Indecision is not an admirable quality,” Laura Friendly said. “I’ll just make the teams.” She divided up the players. “You only have an hour. Enjoy.”

  “Are you serious?” Benji asked. “We get to play with these guys for the next hour?”

  “And I haven’t even told you the best part yet.” She paused dramatically and motioned for Felix and Benji to join her on the sideline. “You’re paying for this. The price tag, half a million.”

  “Felix and me? Out of our five mil?” Benji asked, needing to clarify. Felix might have thought Laura Friendly was a nice person; Benji was still undecided.

  “Yes. The bill is all yours. I’ll call Leonard right now and tell him to pay for it. Sound good?”

  “Yes!” Benji answered. Maybe Laura Friendly wasn’t a monster after all.

  “Are we playing or what?” Xavier Cahill asked from the court.

  “Oh, we’re playing.” Benji pulled off his hoodie. “After we take a few more pictures.”

  Felix

  Immediately after school, basketball tryouts began. Two hours a day for three days. That was all the time they had to impress the coaches and change their lives.

  Felix and Benji shared a ball and a basket as they warmed up. Benji shot from the foul line. He missed. His form was horrible—elbows out, knees straight, ball held chest high. It was like he forgot how to handle a basketball. Yesterday, at the Times Union Center, he’d looked good. But playing with NBA stars could make anyone look like a legit player.

  “I’m nervous.” Felix grabbed a rebound, put it back up for an easy lay-up, and then passed the ball back to Benji. “But it’s a nice break from spending money.”

  “You have nothing to worry about.” Benji bounced the ball four times, shot, and missed again.

  But Felix was worried. He bent down, pretending to tie his laces, and ran a finger over the red swoosh on his Nike Air Flights. He owned over ten pairs of sneakers now, but these were his favorite—the first he’d bought. The lucky ones.

  More players funneled into the gym. Aidan, Jeremy, Luke, and three other kids joined their court. Between them, they had four balls, yet Benji never seemed to be able to grab a rebound. He only got one when Felix fed it to him.

  “How many kids do you think are trying out?” Benji asked.

  “I don’t know.” Felix dribbled across the key and sank a left-handed hook shot.

  “I heard thirty,” Jeremy answered.

  “Thirty.” Benji let out a big breath. “And how many make the team, like twelve?”

  “Last year, only ten.” Aidan knocked the ball out of Benji’s hands.

  A whistle blew. All dribbling and shooting stopped. Balls were returned to the racks, and the hopeful players sprinted to line up in front of Coach Murphy and Coach Orrick. No one walked or hung back. Every minute of tryouts counted.

  “For the next three days,” Coach Murphy said, “we’ll be evaluating you on skills and determination. Both are essential. We will be looking to build the best seventh-grade team for Stirling Middle School. We’re not looking for strong, individual players. We’re looking for hardworking, motivated players who will make a strong, well-rounded team.”

  Felix’s heart pounded against his chest, and it wasn’t from the little bit of warm-up. Maybe he wasn’t what the team needed.

  Coach Murphy blew the whistle again, and thirty minutes of drills began.

  Felix had complete control over the ball and was probably the second fastest. He tried not to focus on the other boys, but he couldn’t help it. There was only one other kid who handled the ball as well. A kid new to Stirling named Max Wade, who rarely came to open gym because he also played soccer and baseball.

  Felix also noticed Benji. He dribbled too high and moved slowly—like he was on a balance beam. At least he didn’t lose the ball. Plenty of players had their basketballs ricochet off their knees or sneakers.

  “Partner up,” Coach yelled, introducing a passing exercise.

  Immediately, Felix grabbed Jeremy’s sleeve, and they found a spot on the gym floor. Benji jogged over but stopped when he realized Felix already had a partner.

  “Sorry,” Felix mouthed. Then he turned his attention to the ball, trying not to see Benji’s reaction. But he caught enough. No denying that Benji was surprised—and hurt.

  There are twenty-seven other players here. He’ll find another partner.

  And it made sense for Felix to team up with Jeremy. They were both guards. Benji played center or forward. He should be with other big guys.

  Coach Murphy ran them through two more drills before allowing a water break.

  “There’re a lot of good players here,” Benji said to Felix as they grabbed their water bottles from the bleachers.

  “Yeah.”

  Felix tried not to overthink it. He tried to focus on his game. But as they’d run through the drills, he’d separated everyone into groups: yes, no, and maybe. Max Wade, Jeremy, and Devante landed in the definitely yes gang. Felix felt firmly planted in the maybe category with the majority. It made his stomach hurt.

  “At least I’m still the tallest,” Benji said. “Maybe that’ll give me a chance.”

  “Maybe.” Felix closed his water bottle. He’d said maybe, but he’d already put Benji on Team No.

  “Thanks for the encouragement.” Benji slammed his metal water bottle down on the metal bench. It sounded like a bell ringing.

  Felix ran back onto the court. If Benji was going to have an attitude, Felix didn’t want to be seen—or heard—with him. They were not a package deal. Benji needed to remember that they were partners for the penny-doubled challenge, not everything else. Not basketball.

  The coach had the players join two lines for a two-on-two drill. Felix would rather have had a full scrimmage, but this was nearly as good. He was randomly paired with Max Wade, and they played against Aidan and Luke. Felix and Max scored on their first possession, and the losing duo rotated off the court. Then Felix and Max got new opponents. Max scored another basket, thanks to an assist from Felix. They made a great team, winning six in a row before they came up against Benji and Henry.

  “Try not to make me look bad,” Benji whispered as he started with the ball. He dribbled twice and took a jump shot. Felix swatted the ball and caused it to miss the basket wildly. Max got the rebound. He dribbled to the top and then dished it off to Felix, who ducked under Benji’s meaty arms for an easy lay-up.

  “Felix, Max, nice job. Rotate off. Let’s change it around,” Coach Murphy yelled to them, even though they’d won the matchup.

  Felix joined the end of a line, waiting to go back onto the court. A few seconds later, Benji was behind him.

  “Nice
shot,” Benji said, and Felix didn’t know if he was sincere. Maybe. But this was tryouts, and everyone was out for himself.

  Aidan joined their line. Felix was one away from rotating back in and wanted to distance himself from both Aidan and Benji. He inched forward.

  “I’m not going to make it,” Benji said. He twisted his foot as if he was digging in the sand.

  Felix didn’t answer. They would talk about it later. They were neighbors. They shared a driver. Now was not the time.

  “Barney, why don’t you just give Coach a million dollars,” Aidan said. “Or a new car. Then you’ll make the team.”

  “I should,” Benji answered quickly, and laughed.

  Felix shot him a look. He needed to know Benji wasn’t serious.

  “Probably doesn’t have to be a million. I bet a hundred grand would get you on the team and a starting spot.” Aidan wiped his sweaty face on his shirt.

  “Probably. But I’m not doing that,” Benji said. “You can’t bribe a coach.”

  “This isn’t the NBA or the Big Ten. Who cares?”

  “I’m not bribing anyone,” Benji said.

  “Well, looks like Barney is not making the team,” Aidan said. Other kids laughed. And it was the last bit of the conversation Felix heard before jumping back onto the court.

  Benji

  Everything hurt, from his toes to his head, but nothing more than Benji’s ego. He had no chance of making the basketball team. After the last set of drills, they scrimmaged full-court. Benji didn’t score. He didn’t get a rebound. And after the first five minutes, he didn’t touch the ball at all. His teammates had stopped passing to him.

  “Must have been a good practice,” Reggie said as he drove them to the hotel. “You guys smell worse than ever.”

  “It was hard,” Felix said from the backseat.

  “It was ridiculous,” Benji added. “There’s no way I’m making the team.”

  “I see.” Reggie nodded thoughtfully. “Do you know the guaranteed way to live to be one hundred?”

  “How?” Benji asked.

  “Eat a Pop-Tart every day for one hundred years.” Reggie nodded some more like he’d just shared something brilliant.

  “Please stop talking.” Benji wasn’t in the mood for philosophy or whatever Reggie was spewing.

  “You won’t make the team if you don’t show up,” Reggie continued. “Go to tryouts. That’s the only way it’s going to happen.”

  “Still not going to happen.” Benji leaned his head against the window.

  “And you probably won’t live to be one hundred, either, but you gotta try.”

  Reggie dropped them off in front of the hotel. On the elevator, Felix held Freebie’s leash and stared at his red-and-white sneakers. It was like he was embarrassed to even be around Benji.

  “Bye,” Felix said as he ducked out on the fourteenth floor.

  Benji threw out his arm to keep the elevator door from closing. “I think I’m going to quit. I’m not going to make the team anyway.”

  “Really?” Felix stopped and turned around.

  “You’re not going to talk me out of it?”

  Felix shrugged. “You should give it at least one more day,” he said, unconvincingly.

  “If I don’t go to tryouts, I’ll have more time to spend money,” Benji said.

  “True,” Felix replied. “But you could have a great day tomorrow and—”

  “Stop it. And be honest with me.” Benji’s throat tightened. “For the past two weeks, we’ve been completely honest with each other. Right?”

  Felix nodded, and his face softened.

  Benji stepped out of the elevator and into the hall. “We’re sharing this money. We’re the only ones who know the truth except for Laura Friendly and the troll and her lawyer goons. We’re in this together. We have to count on each other.”

  “This has nothing to do with basketball.” Felix chewed his thumbnail.

  “I just want to make the team,” Benji said. “Don’t you understand that? I need to make the team.”

  “Why?” Felix asked. “You already have everything. You have friends and two parents and a house, and in a few weeks, you might be an actual millionaire.”

  “Is that really how you see me? A kid who has it all?” Benji shook his head and jabbed the up button for the elevator. “If you don’t make the team, you’ll still be an A student. Your mom will probably take you out for ice cream, kiss you on the forehead a thousand times, and tell you how wonderful you are.”

  “I love basketball. You know that.” Felix looked at him like he wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

  “I love basketball too.”

  “No.” Felix stared at him. “Not really.”

  Felix’s words felt like a slap. Benji had wanted the truth, but now that he had it, things were worse. Does everyone think I’m a joke?

  “I gotta go.” Benji stepped back into the elevator.

  When he got to his suite, he went to unlock the door, but it jerked open before the indicator light turned from red to green.

  “How did tryouts go?” His dad stood in the doorway with an enormous, hopeful smile.

  “I need a shower,” Benji answered. “Coach worked us to death.”

  “How many are trying out? What do you think your chances are?” His dad followed him across the living room.

  “There were a lot of guys. So it’s hard to say.” At least hard to say out loud to his dad.

  “Is it still Coach Murphy?” his dad asked. “We used to golf together.”

  “Huh.” Benji walked into his bedroom and peeled off his shirt.

  “Maybe I’ll give him a call,” his dad continued. “See what he’s been up to. Maybe invite him to the driving range.”

  “Dad. Don’t.” Benji faced his father. He knew his parents did this—called or emailed his teachers and coaches. He hadn’t minded in elementary school. Back then, it had made his life better and easier.

  “I won’t talk about you or basketball.” His dad smiled and winked, confirming that that was all they’d talk about.

  “No.”

  “Okay.” His dad shook his head once. “I just know this means a lot to you. You’ve worked hard and deserve a spot on that team.”

  Deserve? Do I really?

  “I don’t expect you to have a career in the NBA,” his dad continued. “But sports are important. They teach you teamwork and perseverance. Some of the best friends you’ll ever make in your life will be through athletics.”

  Benji’s mind flashed to Felix partnering with Jeremy and putting as much distance between himself and Benji as possible. Except when he blocked Benji’s shot. Benji wanted to think Felix wasn’t avoiding him on purpose. But he knew better. Sports didn’t always result in friendship. It could ruin things too.

  “I gotta shower.” Benji went into the bathroom.

  Benji didn’t deserve a spot on the team. Lots of guys worked harder than he did. Lots of guys were better players. But he needed it more than them. Not for himself but for his parents. They didn’t have a lot to be proud of. He wasn’t the best student or a star athlete or a musician or an artist. Didn’t all parents expect their kid to excel in one or even two of these areas? If your kid was supersmart and acing tests, it was forgiven that he never hit a home run or scored a goal. If your kid played solos in the band concert, it was okay if he didn’t bring home all As. Benji and every kid in public school seemed to be taught that you were good at something. Everyone is special. Everyone has a gift.

  But what if he wasn’t special? Maybe he was one of the few kids born without a natural gift. He’d always be average or below. He was the reason they gave everyone a trophy at the end of the T-ball season, because he’d never earn one of his own.

  He took a long, hot shower and tried to wipe
away the stench of tryouts.

  What good was having millions of dollars at your fingertips if you couldn’t use it to buy what you really, really needed? Like a spot on the Stirling Middle School basketball team.

  Aidan’s suggestion popped into his head. Bribe the coach. Benji couldn’t do that. Not exactly. (It was against Laura Friendly’s rules.) But he could still get the coach’s attention.

  He quickly toweled off, pulled on clean clothes, and ran his fingers through his wet hair. Then he opened his computer and Googled Coach Murphy. There had to be some way to get the guy’s attention without writing a million-dollar check (which was not allowed) or having his dad take him golfing. Benji found Coach’s social media site—Friendly Connect, as it turned out.

  Coach Murphy was a husband, an eighth-grade science teacher, and a dad. He had twin girls, who’d recently turned five and went to Stirling Elementary. Judging from the online pictures and videos, the girls seemed to be obsessed with princesses and unicorns.

  The rules said he and Felix couldn’t buy gifts for other people. But he could buy food or throw parties—and a parade was a type of moving party, in his opinion.

  He opened another Google window and typed RENT A REAL UNICORN. He didn’t expect anything, but he got a hit. A farm only a few hours away rented out ponies dressed as unicorns for birthday parties and other events.

  Benji picked up his phone.

  Felix

  By 9:00 p.m.

  Coach Murphy had told them the results would be posted on the school’s web page by that time. If Coach was going to be punctual, he only had three minutes left.

  “Try refreshing it again,” Felix said, standing behind Benji.

  They’d agreed to wait for the results together—more Benji’s idea than Felix’s. Felix had been feeling guilty about ignoring Benji on day one of tryouts and could not say no to this simple request. (Thankfully, days two and three had not required any partnering choices.)

  Benji didn’t have a chance of making the team, but Felix did. And if he was selected, how was he supposed to react in front of Benji and Mr. and Mrs. Porter? He couldn’t be happy or excited. And what if he didn’t make it? Felix didn’t want to consider that option.