by Tiki Barber
“How’s that?”
“It just means everybody wants us to win.”
“Not in Charlottesville, they don’t.”
“Well . . .”
“Keep reading.”
“Okay. Here goes: ‘The team’s season started out as a full-fledged disaster. Before their first game was played, they lost their longtime coach, the great ‘Spanky’ Spangler, who moved on to coach Hidden Valley High School to a second-place finish in his first season.’
“‘Spangler’s replacement was Sam Wheeler, but by the time Wheeler found his footing with his new team, they were 0–2 and sinking fast. Somehow, he managed to turn them around, and the Eagles put together a long winning streak.’
“‘Their season threatened to come apart for good when all-star kicker Adam Costa was lost to the team for weeks. If not for some fortunate losses by their rivals late in the season, it would have been all over for the Eagles. Somehow, they reached the play-offs—and have not looked back since.’”
“I like that,” Tiki said, smiling. “That’s good stuff.”
“Yeah, well listen to this,” Ronde said. “‘Considering all the obstacles they’ve already overcome—including the epidemic of chicken pox now affecting the team—it is this reporter’s considered opinion that the Eagles are a team of destiny. With all-stars Tiki and Ronde Barber at the top of their game, the betting here is that Hidden Valley will soon be hoisting the state champions’ trophy over their heads. To which let us all say amen, and GO EAGLES!’”
Ronde lowered the paper and stared at his twin. “Man, we’d better win on Saturday.”
“You got that right,” Tiki agreed, wiping the sweat off his brow—sweat that hadn’t been there before Ronde started reading. “I’m starting to get a baaad feeling about this.”
“I know just what you mean,” said Ronde, nodding. Patting the paper, he added, “And this kind of stuff isn’t making things any easier.”
At Thursday practice, the twins got their first dose of good news in a while. Both safeties, Mark Zolla and Alister Edwards, were back on the field, the red spots on their faces already faded.
“Hey, Ronde,” Tiki said, “now you can go back to your old position!”
“Yeah,” Ronde said wistfully. “To tell you the truth, though, I was kind of enjoying safety.”
“Yeah, and you could get used to playing quarterback, too, if they gave you a chance,” Tiki said with a laugh.
“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m a natural talent,” Ronde shot back, grinning.
The bad news was that Sam Scarfone was still out. His return for the game was iffy at best. But at least having their safeties back was sure to improve the Eagle defense against a Charlottesville passing attack that was number one in the state.
As for the offense, they were clicking in practice like they hadn’t in a long time—since before the whole chicken pox plague had first shown up. “They may be number one in passing,” John Berra told Tiki, “but we’ve got the best running game in the state.”
“My man!” Tiki said, and the two of them butted helmets.
Yes, it was going to be quite a game, Tiki thought. The two teams might even run up a higher score than in the Abingdon game.
Tiki’s good mood lasted as long as he was on the field. But as soon as practice was over, that happy feeling started to fade. Every kid on the late bus wanted to talk to the twins about football. Tiki was glad when they finally got home and he could do his homework in peace.
He and Ronde spent the first part of the evening studying. Their mom was off at another community meeting, and once they finished their homework, they switched on the TV and watched an episode of Star Trek.
Their mom got home at nine, and brought a really good cheesecake with her. Both boys stuffed their faces—especially Tiki, who soon began to wish he hadn’t eaten quite so much.
Soon it was bedtime, and Mrs. Barber shooed the boys upstairs. “Big day tomorrow,” she said. “You boys need to be well-rested for the big game.”
“I can’t wait for it to be over,” Ronde confessed as he and Tiki got ready for bed.
“For what to be over?”
“You know—the game. All the games. The whole season.”
“Don’t say that, man—if it’s over too quick, that means we lost!”
“No, I don’t mean it like that,” Ronde said. “I just mean . . .”
“I know—the pressure.”
“Exactly.”
“I hear you,” Tiki said. His stomach was starting to feel really queasy now—so queasy that he was starting to sweat.
Ronde got washed up first—the bathroom was only big enough for one—and then it was Tiki’s turn. He got inside, closed the door, and ran some cold water over his face.
Was he going to be okay? he wondered. Yes, he thought so. His stomach was calming down now, although he was still sweating. In fact, he was feeling suddenly cold. Shivering, he took a look in the bathroom mirror—
Oh, no!
He blinked hard, but the mirror image remained the same. His entire face, from forehead to chin, was covered with tiny dark spots!
Oh, nonononooooo!!!
He grabbed a wet washcloth and rubbed it hard over his face, trying to make the spots disappear. Trying to obliterate them, exterminate them, rub them into oblivion!
But the spots remained where they were. Tiki looked into the mirror, staring at the face of disaster. And suddenly, thinking of the big game coming up, he began to feel really, really sick.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A WALKING NIGHTMARE
RONDE HEARD THE DREADFUL GASP FROM THE bathroom, then the sound of water gushing out of the faucet, then Tiki’s moaning and groaning.
He got up out of bed and scooted to the bathroom. Peeking in, he could not believe his eyes. “Oh, no!”
“Shhh!” Tiki warned. “Mom’s downstairs.”
“She can’t hear us, she’s got her music on the stereo.”
“Anyway, keep it down, just in case.”
“Geez!” Ronde said, half-whispering. “I can’t believe this!”
“Me neither.”
“This is bad.”
“Really bad,” Tiki agreed.
“What are we gonna do now?”
“What do you mean, what are we gonna do?”
“I mean, you’ve got the chicken pox!”
Tiki rolled his eyes. “Duh. Don’t you think I can see that? I’ve got eyes.”
“Well?”
“Well, I don’t know what to do!”
“Wait till Mom sees.”
“She’s not gonna see,” Tiki shot back.
“What?”
“You heard me. And you’re not gonna tell her!”
“She’s gonna know, first thing in the morning.”
“Well . . . I’ll have to think of something by then,” said Tiki.
“She’s gonna want to take you to the doctor.”
“I’m not going to any doctor.”
“I don’t know, Tiki. . . .”
“Just go back to bed, Ronde. You’re not helping by staring at me like that.”
Ronde had a lot more he wanted to say, but he thought better of it and got back into bed. Tiki shut the lights, yanked the cover over his head, and was silent.
Ronde listened to his own breathing in the dark room. He thought he heard his twin sniffing back tears, but he couldn’t be sure.
And what if Tiki was crying under that blanket? Who could blame him?
Just think what it would be like to get sick and miss the biggest game of your life! Ronde almost felt like crying himself. He felt really bad for his brother, and even worse for the team! What would their chances be without Tiki on the field?
Worst of all, in his heart of hearts, Ronde couldn’t help feeling relieved it wasn’t him who had the spots.
And that was another thing—how come he didn’t, and Tiki did?
Well, he reasoned, Tiki had spent a lot of time around Berra. They
always hung around together at practice.
On the other hand, Ronde’s locker was right next to Berra’s, and he and Tiki were always together. Now that Tiki had come down with the dreaded spots, how long until Ronde got them too?
And then where would the Eagles be?
Ronde pulled his socks on so hard that he ripped one, and had to go hunt in his drawer for another pair. Of all the bad things that had happened to the Eagles this season, Tiki getting sick now was by far the worst. Why did the stupid chicken pox have to show up in Roanoke just when the Eagles’ dream of a state championship was on the verge of coming true?
Ronde couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to school without Tiki. Usually, when one of them got a cold or a flu, the other got it at the same time. Now, he was going to have to be the one to break the bad news to everyone. He wished he could duck back under the covers and hide for the rest of the day.
But that was not going to happen. Mrs. Barber was already calling from downstairs that breakfast was ready, and that they’d better come down and eat it quick, or they’d miss the school bus.
Tiki was lying in bed, sweating bullets, shivering and miserable. “Tiki, I’m gonna have to tell Mom.”
Tiki didn’t answer.
“Tiki?”
Still nothing, except for a low moan.
“Okay, then. Bye.” Ronde went downstairs and broke the news to his mom. She ran right up to see Tiki, and Ronde was left to eat his breakfast alone.
He wanted to kick something. He was furious. He would have gone ballistic, if he could have figured out whom to be mad at. “This is all Tiki’s fault,” he told himself as he ate. “Why did he have to go and get sick?”
But he knew Tiki couldn’t help it, any more than Berra could have, or Sam, or the others who’d gone down with the virus. In fact, it was only dumb luck that Ronde had stayed healthy—so far.
As he rode the bus to school, he thought of his brother with pity instead. Poor Tiki. All the Eagles—even Sam Scarfone, he was sure—would be back on the field against Charlottesville West—all except Tiki.
His poor brother would lie in bed, helpless, while the Eagles fought for play-off survival. If they lost, everyone would blame Tiki for not being there. And if the team somehow managed to win, Tiki would have missed out on their most heroic victory yet! Either way, it was a bad break for him.
But who am I kidding? Ronde asked himself. Without Tiki, the Eagles couldn’t possibly win. He was their best player—at least on offense. Without him, Ronde figured, the defense would have to hold Charlottesville to zero points!
Yeah, right, Ronde thought. Like that’s ever gonna happen. Charlottesville hadn’t lost all season, and they were averaging over four touchdowns a game!
Ronde sighed, grabbed his bag, and followed the other kids off the bus and into school. This was going to be a terrible day. And nothing he or anybody else could do would make it one bit better.
“Hi, Ronde!” Adam greeted him just inside the entryway. “Where’s Tiki?”
Ronde gave him a look that needed no words.
“You’re kidding! Please tell me you’re kidding.”
Ronde just stared at him.
“Oh, no!” Adam cried. “That stinks so bad! What are we gonna do now?”
Ronde shrugged his shoulders.
“What, do you not speak anymore?” Adam asked. “Laryngitis or something?”
“Ha, ha,” Ronde said.
“He speaks! See that? I cured you. Too bad I don’t know how to cure chicken pox.”
Adam was usually funny, but Ronde wasn’t laughing today. Nothing in the world would have made him crack a smile that morning.
By lunchtime, when the team gathered in the cafeteria, word had gotten around. Even the food servers behind the counter wore stricken looks on their faces. Tiki’s being ill was a body blow to the whole school’s hopes.
“Man, don’t sit next to me,” Paco told Ronde. “You might be contagious.”
“Yeah, you’re probably next,” said Cody. “Go sit somewhere else, dude. Things are bad enough already.”
Ronde realized Cody wasn’t joking. They were all his friends, but he could see by their looks that none of them wanted to sit near him—not today, anyway.
Sadly, he went to look for an empty table. Finding one, he ate quickly, and got up to go spend the rest of the period in the playground.
But before he got outside, the school nurse stopped him. “Ronde?” she called, sticking her head outside the office door. “How are you feeling? I hear your brother is sick.”
“Uh-huh. Chicken pox.”
“Mm-hmm. And how are you feeling?”
Ronde shrugged. “I’m not sick, but I feel bad.”
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean. You poor thing,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I hate to say this, but I’m going to have to ask you to go home.”
Ronde snapped to attention. “Say what?”
“I know you’re not sick—yet—but the fact that you live with someone who is means you could be carrying the virus and exposing others, even before you have any symptoms. So I’d like you to stay home until your brother is past the infection stage and you’re past the incubation period.”
“Huh?”
“For a few days, anyway. I’ll arrange for your teachers to call your mother and give them work for you to do at home, but I don’t want to risk a general epidemic in the school.”
“But—”
“I’m really sorry, Ronde, believe me. It’s the last thing I want to do. But I’ve got to think of the other students’ health.”
He could see she wasn’t going to back down. “Okay, whatever. But what about the big game?”
The nurse thought for a moment. “Well, that’s not for a few days yet. If you’re still well by then, I suppose I could allow you to play. But no practices before that.”
“No practices? But—”
“I’m sorry, Ronde. We’ve already had enough members of the team get sick. We can’t afford any more.”
“But if we lose this game, it’ll all be over, and then it doesn’t matter who gets sick.”
“I beg your pardon? Doesn’t matter? When children miss school, it matters very much.”
“Then why do I have to go home?”
“Ronde, I know how you feel, but this is important. There are certain children with other, more serious health conditions, and for them, catching chicken pox could be very dangerous. I have to insist. I’m sorry.”
Just then, a girl approached them, holding her stomach and looking distinctly green. “Mrs. Davis,” she said to the nurse, “I feel sick . . .”
“Oh, my goodness,” said the nurse. “Come on, Maria, let’s get you to the bathroom right away.” She began leading the girl out, then turned back to Ronde.
“Wait in the main office, Ronde. I’ll phone your mother and—”
“She’s at work.”
“Oh, I see,” said the nurse. “Well, then, I’ll call the emergency contact and have them come drive you home.”
There was no way to argue, because the nurse quickly left with Maria for the girls’ room. Ronde sat in the main office, reading magazines and twiddling his thumbs. He had to wait over half an hour until their neighbor, Mrs. Prendergast, picked him up in her old jalopy and drove him home.
Tiki was surprised to see him, but Ronde quickly explained.
“Cool,” Tiki said. “Now at least I’ll have some company. It’s boring being alone here all day.”
“Not cool,” Ronde replied. “I’m not even sick, and the school nurse makes me go home. Now I’m gonna fall behind in all my subjects!”
“What do you think is gonna happen to me?”
“Same thing, I guess.”
“Well, we could help each other study,” Tiki pointed out. “We’ve got lots of time—all week, in fact.”
Ronde sighed deeply. Usually, he’d be glad to have a day or two off from school. But not this week. Now, he’d h
ave to hang around the house with Tiki, whose spotted face was a constant reminder that any minute, Ronde too might get sick, and have to miss the biggest game of his life!
CHAPTER NINE
MIRACLE CURE
TIKI TOSSED AND TURNED IN BED, UNABLE TO FALL asleep. It wasn’t just the unbearable itching—although he was sure that without it, he’d be asleep by now. It was the thought of missing the Charlottesville game that was keeping him awake.
From the other side of the room, he could hear Ronde’s regular breathing. Obviously, the tension wasn’t bad enough to keep him awake.
Tiki stared at the alarm clock as the numbers slowly flipped the minutes away. 2:33 . . . 2:34 . . . 2:35 . . .
He didn’t know exactly how long it took for chicken pox to go away. But he knew he wasn’t going to be able to play this week’s game against the Raiders. If the Eagles lost, everyone would say it was his fault. He couldn’t let that go down. It was eating at him already, and it hadn’t even happened yet!
Ronde was snoring softly. For a moment, Tiki allowed himself to imagine what would have happened if it had been Ronde who’d gotten sick instead. He figured it would have been just as bad for the Eagles. But of course, it would have been him snoring right now, and Ronde itching but forbidden to scratch.
“Don’t touch your spots!” their mom had warned him. “You’ll get scars!” Tiki worried about that. He didn’t want to get scars—but it was almost impossible not to scratch!
He remembered the time, a few years back, when their cousin Melvin had come down with chicken pox. Tiki and Ronde hadn’t been allowed anywhere near him, but when they finally did see Melvin—from a safe distance—they’d both laughed at how funny he looked with all those spots.
Well, Tiki wasn’t laughing now. When you were a member of the Hidden Valley Eagles, everything was different. You were representing your whole school—teachers, students, janitors—everybody. Nobody was laughing about Tiki’s chicken pox, least of all Ronde.
Tiki’s twin was tossing and turning now in his sleep. Having bad dreams, Tiki guessed. He thinks he’s next.
Tiki looked at the alarm clock again: 3:11. Was he going to go the whole night without a wink of sleep? The itching was driving him crazy! He kept his hands at his side, but it was really, really hard not to scratch.