Trust Your Name

by Tim Tingle

  “Dad!” I whispered, leaning over the table. “What did Coach say?”

  Dad looked one way, then the other, then zipped his mouth shut. I leaned back, smiling. Message delivered. I’ll be expected to score this afternoon.

  “Maybe we can sneak Johnny into the game, Dad.”

  Dad smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

  Coach’s after-breakfast talk was a short one. “They play hard-nosed defense and they’ve scouted every game. So they’ll be looking to stop Mato inside, and Eddie will get some double teams. That will leave Bobby open. Ryan, take more of your midrange jumpers. You two can score, so let’s do it.

  “On defense, they haven’t been pressed yet. Let’s open with a full-court press. They like a half-court offense, so let’s hit the boards after every shot.”

  Smart Dad. Talk to Coach and warn his kid.

  Mato got the opening tip, and Ryan grabbed the ball and tossed it to Eddie. As soon as he caught the ball, he was surrounded by Raiders, forcing him to pick up his dribble. Eddie faked an overhead pass and ducked under the leaping defenders.

  He sent me a hard bounce pass, and suddenly we had a four-on-two fast break. I drove hard to the lane, and when Ryan’s man left him to stop my lay-up, I flipped a high pass to Ryan for his lay-up.

  Achukmas 2–Raiders 0

  Every time Eddie crossed midcourt, two defenders double-teamed him. He was still able to work his way around them and fire up a few shots. But Eddie was all about team Achukma. He knew tonight was his night to be the playmaker.

  So who took the shots? Who hit the threes?

  “Bobby Beeee, going for three!”

  At first I felt embarrassed to hear Dad holler this new cheer every time I hit a long shot. But I grew to kinda like it. But I didn’t take all the shots, no way.

  We had strong inside play too, from that other Choctaw, Ryan MacAlvain. Whenever he caught the ball at the free-throw line, Ryan would turn to pass the ball to Mato. Right away, two, sometimes even three, Raiders dropped back on Mato, giving Ryan plenty of time to fire away and hit that smooth midrange jumper.

  Halftime score: Achukmas 28–Raiders 19

  The second half went by in a flash, and Coach once again proved he knows this game. The Raiders couldn’t handle our full-court press, and by the end of the third quarter they were exhausted and ready for the long trip home.

  Eddie and I shared the bench for the final quarter, and though we were thrilled with the victory, we knew this day was far from over.

  Final score: Achukmas 52–Raiders 39

  “Do you realize that you and Ryan outscored the Raiders by yourselves in the first half?” Dad asked. We were crossing the parking lot on our way to a quick lunch.

  “Dad, I don’t wanna hear that. We won as a team.”

  “Son, let your dad be proud of you. Just a little.”

  “Hoke,” I said, “as long as we keep it a secret.”

  “Sure thing, Bobby. Hey, maybe I can start hollering and pushing you around again? That way no one will ever know how proud I am of you,” Dad said, hugging me to him.

  “Enough is enough,” Mom said. Dad gave me a playful shove and I jumped behind Mom’s back.

  “Mommy, please, I’m going back to the hole,” I said.

  And who should drive up as Dad and I relived old times?

  Lloyd and his dad pulled into the parking lot. Lloyd rolled the window down. “Please tell me you won,” he said. “Please don’t tell me we drove all this way and won’t get to see you play.”

  “Hoke,” Dad said. “We won’t tell you. Anything else you don’t want to know?”

  “That means they won, Lloyd,” his dad said. “When’s the next game?”

  “Tonight we play for the championship. Game time is seven,” I said.

  “Come join us for lunch. Coach will be glad to see you, you and Lloyd both,” said Dad.

  They followed us to a nearby restaurant, where we had a long table and a private room. Right after the salads were served, Mr. Bryant stuck his head through the door and motioned for Coach.

  Coach had a serious look on his face when he returned, and Mr. Bryant stood behind him. We looked at Coach and waited.

  “Did any of you lose your room keys and ask for another at the front desk?” Coach asked.

  We looked back and forth from one end of the table to the other. We all shook our heads and shrugged our shoulders no.

  “Tell ’em what you told me,” Coach said to Mr. Bryant.

  Mr. Bryant, who was always shy, stepped forward. “Just a few minutes ago the desk clerk at the hotel asked me if those boys found their jerseys. He also wanted the extra room key.”

  “When I told him I didn’t know any boys lost their jerseys, he seemed confused. He said they had to hurry before the game started, so he gave them a room key. He jotted the room number down.”

  Mr. Bryant scrambled around in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Room 124,” he said.

  “That’s our room,” I said, “mine and Eddie’s.”

  “Men, finish your lunches. I’ll call the hotel and see if we can figure this out. Mr. Byington, can you stay here with the team?”

  “Be glad to,” Dad said. Then he followed Coach to the door and said quietly, “Sounds like Bobby might be involved in this.”

  “I’ll let you know right away what I find out,” Coach said. He was gone less than ten minutes, and when he returned he looked worried. “Let’s get back to the hotel. Sounds like two young men, claiming to be teammates of yours, were given a key to your room. Last night, while we were at the game.”

  “They couldn’t have taken our jerseys,” Eddie said. “We were wearing ’em.”

  “They had some reason for wanting to get into your room, and we need to find out what it was,” said Coach.

  When we arrived at the hotel, two police cars were parked in the lot. When they spotted our bus, they exited the hotel lobby and motioned for the bus driver to stop.

  CHAPTER 18

  Back Seat Ride

  Seeing the police officers approach our bus, Coach stood up and said, “Keep your seats, men.”

  He stepped from the bus and turned to the officer in charge. “I’m Coach Robison,” he said. “What brings you here?”

  “We are investigating a robbery, Coach,” said the officer. “Two of your boys were seen robbing an all-night grocery store last night.”

  “That’s impossible,” Coach said. “We keep a close eye on all our players, and none of them have ever had any run-ins with the law. We were playing basketball till almost ten o’clock last night.”

  “We were given search warrants, Coach, since we had an eyewitness to the robberies. And we found this bag tucked away on a shelf in the closet of room 124.”

  He showed Coach a bag with the Panther logo.

  “Looks like a bag from your high school,” said the officer. “Do your players have bags like this?”

  “Yes,” Coach said. “We carry our uniforms in these bags.”

  “That’s my bag,” I said to Johnny.

  “What’s the problem?” asked Coach.

  The police officer unzipped the bag and showed Coach what was in it, but we couldn’t see. Coach shook his head and said, “Officer, my boys did not steal this money.”

  “Who is staying in room 124?” the officer asked.

  “I need to call an attorney,” Coach said.

  “Tell the attorney to meet us at the police station,” the officer said. “Now, Coach, if you don’t tell me who is staying in room 124, we’ll take every player on your team to the station for questioning.”

  “Coach, tell him,” I said. “We didn’t do this and we’ll prove it.”

  “Are you staying in room 124?” the officer asked me.

  “Yes, Officer, that’s my room number. And I don’t know where you found that bag. It looks like mine, but I couldn’t find it, so I stuffed my things in Eddie’s bag.”

  “He’s telling the truth, Officer,�
�� Eddie said.

  “Can I see your bag? And what room are you staying in, son?”

  “I’m in room 124 too. Just a minute, I’ll get my bag.”

  He climbed on the bus and soon returned with his shoulder bag. “Here, Officer, take a look. It has Bobby’s and my uniforms in it.”

  “What’s in the zip pocket on the back?” the officer asked. He took the bag from Eddie and unzipped the pocket.

  “There’s nothing there,” Eddie replied.

  “You call this nothing?” the officer asked, lifting a thick stack of twenty-dollar bills from the pocket. He turned to his fellow policeman, saying, “Let’s take them both in. I think we’ve found our robbers.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Coach said, moving between the officers and us—but only for a moment. He saw he was about to cause more trouble for everyone and stepped aside. Just then, Dad pulled up behind the bus.

  “Officer, can you speak to this young man’s father?” said Coach. “He needs to know what you are accusing his son of. He can tell you where his son was last night.”

  The officer looked at his fellow policeman and they both had the same expression. They won’t believe a dad who alibis for his son, I thought.

  “What’s going on?” Dad asked. He leapt from his car.

  No, Dad, please. Don’t make it worse, I thought.

  New Dad, Old Dad, which would it be?

  Mom knows when it’s time to step in, and now was certainly the time. She hurried around the car and took Dad by the arm.

  I couldn’t hear what she said, but I knew what Old Dad would have done. He would have pushed her away and bumped chests with the officer in charge.

  New Dad paused for a brief moment, and that moment changed everything. “Bobby needs you to be strong,” Mom said, and everyone heard her.

  “Can you wait just a minute?” Dad asked. “Please tell me, what is my son accused of?”

  “And you are?” asked the officer.

  “I am Mr. Byington, Bobby’s father. His mother and I took him to his hotel room last night after the team meal, after the game.”

  “Did you take him to his room, or did you drop him off at the hotel?” the officer asked.

  Dad took a deep breath and glared at the officer. Mom gripped his hand and Dad said, “We saw him enter the lobby on his way to his room.”

  “Officer!” a voice shouted from across the parking lot. Everyone turned and there stood Mr. Bryant, together with the hotel desk clerk. “Officers, you need to talk to this man. He has some important information.”

  The officer in charge turned to his partner. “No need for handcuffs,” he said, “but we’re taking ’em down to the station.”

  The policeman took Eddie and me by the arms with a firm grip and led us to the car. “Stand up against the car and keep your hands above your heads.” He patted us down from head to toe.

  “Do you have any knives or anything sharp in your pockets?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” we both said.

  He opened the back door to the police car and took first me—then Eddie—by the shoulder and pushed us into the back seat.

  “Do you have to do that?” Coach asked. “These boys are innocent and we will be able to prove it.”

  The officer ignored Coach and spoke to Mr. Bryant and the hotel clerk. “We are charging these boys with robbery. If you have anything to say, say it at the station. You can follow us there if you like.”

  “That’s my son, Officer!” Dad shouted. “He has never stolen a thing in his life!”

  “Follow me and you’ll have a chance to prove it,” the officer said, closing the door to the patrol car and driving away.

  Mom grabbed Dad’s arm and pulled him back.

  I had never ridden in a police car before—and certainly not as an accused criminal, riding in the back seat with my fellow criminal, in the eyes of the law. How can this be happening?

  I looked over my shoulder as we pulled away, and what I saw came as no surprise.

  “We’re gonna be hoke,” I said to Eddie. Coach Robison had gathered everyone together, our teammates, Mom, Dad, Mr. Bryant, and the hotel clerk. He was speaking to them all as if they were his team and his responsibility.

  “Coach is planning our next move,” Eddie said.

  Just then another car pulled into the lot, and out stepped Lloyd Blanton and his dad.

  “Wow!” I said. “I’d almost forgotten the Blantons are here.”

  We watched as Mr. Bryant led the team into the hotel lobby, followed by Lloyd and the Blantons.

  So Lloyd’s dad is now becoming a leader, I thought, settling our team of Indians down, getting us ready to win the championship.

  “What’s up?” Eddie asked.

  “Just the most amazing turnaround I’ve ever seen in my life,” I said. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Dad pulled away from the hotel with a carload of passengers, Coach Robison, Mom, and the hotel desk clerk.

  CHAPTER 19

  Through the Looking Glass

  When we arrived, the officer led us into the station, and a man met us as we entered. He wore a suit and looked professional and very familiar with the police station.

  “Good to see you, Officer Belton,” he said, reaching out his hand for a quick handshake.

  “What brings you here?” asked the officer, impatient and not glad to see him.

  “I received a call from Coach Robison, and I will be representing these young men.”

  Eddie and I looked at each other. We were glad to have a lawyer on our side, but surprised that we needed one.

  “I am George Webster, a local attorney,” he said, greeting us with a friendly nod. “And you are Bobby Byington and Eddie McGhee, I am assuming?”

  “I’m Bobby Byington,” I said.

  “I’m Eddie McGhee.”

  “Excuse us,” Officer Belton said, shoving us both to the front desk.

  “One moment, Officer,” said Mr. Webster. “I have a right to advise my clients.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “Men,” lawyer Webster said, “you are not to answer any questions until the hotel desk clerk and your coach arrive. The clerk has information the police officers need to hear.”

  We nodded, and he looked to Officer Belton.

  “Do you have a witness that can identify these young men as the robbers?” Mr. Webster asked.

  “That’s why they’re here,” said Officer Belton. “Now, step out of my way.”

  As Officer Belton grabbed our arms and moved us to the front desk, Mr. Webster said, “I’ve got your backs, men. Stay calm. You’ll be on the basketball court tonight.”

  Officer Belton turned and did his best to stare him down. But our lawyer didn’t budge—he gave a strong and determined look right back at him.

  “These young men are innocent,” he said, “and they have been framed.”

  As we waited for the policeman to enter us into the system, I spoke quietly to Eddie. “For the first time in my life,” I said, “I feel like a slave must have felt. All we can do is wait and do what we are told. Nobody wants to listen to us.”

  “And nobody believes us,” Eddie added.

  Then we both looked at each other without saying a word. Slow smiles crept across our faces as we realized how ridiculous that sounded.

  “Hoke,” Eddie said, “maybe somebody believes us.”

  “Yeah, maybe Mom and Dad know we didn’t rob a grocery store at midnight.”

  “Maybe Coach Robison believes us.”

  “Maybe Mr. Bryant believes us.”

  We could have gone back and forth for an hour, naming all of our friends and teammates. “We are two lucky dudes,” Eddie finally said.

  “You call yourselves lucky? I don’t know if I’d agree with that,” said a voice from behind us. We turned and saw a man in a suit, but his face was stern and Eddie and I both had the same thought.

  Hoke, here is someone who does NOT believe us.

  “I am the dis
trict attorney for the city, and we’ll see how lucky you are. The store clerk is about to identify you as the young men who robbed him last night.”

  “Follow me,” Officer Belton said, opening a door and shoving us into a room crowded with four other young men, close to our age. Mr. Webster followed us and touched our shoulders.

  “I have to leave you now, but it is very important that you stay calm. Remember, you are honest and hardworking ballplayers. You are not guilty of any crime, and looking guilty is the worst thing you can do.”

  Officer Belton opened a door to a small room with no windows, nothing but a wooden floor. One by one he pointed at us to step through the door and stand before a one-way glass wall. “Face the glass and stand in front of the numbers on the floor,” he said.

  We soon stood staring at the glass wall, which reflected us. I knew our lawyer was watching us, and maybe the desk clerk. But who else? The man who was robbed at midnight?

  “Number Two, step forward,” said the district attorney. I glanced at my feet and saw that I was Number Two. I took two steps forward and waited.

  “Now, turn around and hunch your shoulders over,” the D.A. said.

  Turn around and hunch my shoulders? I thought. Somebody is trying to see me as the midnight robber.

  I did as I was told.

  “Now, step forward, Number Four. Cover your face with your left arm.”

  There was a short pause and we could hear the district attorney speaking to the witnesses. Then he called out, “Officer Belton, take the men back to the holding cell.”

  “You heard him,” Officer Belton said. “Move!”

  Eddie and I followed the other men to a nearby cell and waited. Soon our lawyer appeared, and the grin on his face told us what we hoped to hear. “Let’s go, men. ‘Definitely not those two,’ that’s what the store cashier said. You are free to go.”

  “Are they any closer to catching the guys who tried to frame us?” I asked.

  “We can talk about that later. Right now let’s get you young men back to your team.”

  We stepped into the front office of the police station, where Mom and Dad were waiting. “How are you holding up, son?” Dad asked.

  “Doing hoke, Dad. That was scary, but we made it hoke.”