One On One

by Don Aker

  Even without milk to mix with it, Kraft Dinner had never tasted so good. Jared drained the noodles and mixed in the butter and cheese powder in record time. He’d offered some to Ellie but she’d said, “No thanks,” so he’d practically inhaled the whole pot himself.

  While he ate, Ellie asked him to tell her about what he’d done with the noodles and the package. After that, she asked him what he knew about measurement now that he didn’t know before.

  To tell the truth, there wasn’t a lot he’d known before. He’d mixed up perimeter, area, and volume more times than he could remember, but now he thought he had a better handle on them. But he still couldn’t figure out how to calculate the volume of things you couldn’t measure with a cup—like a really big box or even a room like the kitchen—and she reminded him how to measure length, width, and height and then multiply them to get cubic units. She reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of Lego pieces that were shaped like cubes. He recalled Mr. Keaton talking about cubic units the week before, but he hadn’t really understood what the teacher meant. Now he thought maybe he did.

  Ellie spent the rest of the hour reviewing with Jared the things they’d talked about during their first session. Then she gave him a sheet of integer questions to try. He made only one mistake.

  “Gee, Jared, you did great!” she told him. “You didn’t get any right on Tuesday.”

  Embarrassed, he mumbled, “I remembered the bingo chips. That helped.”

  Ellie glanced at the clock on the wall and was clearly surprised at the time. “I have to go.” She stooped and patted Cal, who had been lying at her feet since he’d finished his meal, then stood up and slipped on her jacket.

  Jared got up, too. He felt awkward, unsure what to say. “Thanks for the help.”

  “No problem.” She opened the door.

  “I’ll see—”Jared began, then stopped.

  She turned. “What?”

  He shrugged, embarrassed by what he’d almost said. “Nothin’.”

  She looked at him for a moment, then nodded and closed the door behind her.

  Jared watched her through the window as she walked down the driveway, her heavy bookbag over her shoulder making her look like one of those Sherpas he’d seen on a Discovery Channel program about Mount Everest. The Sherpas, from the mountainous country of Nepal, lived at a higher elevation than anyone else in the world. Their strength and mountaineering skills made them invaluable to climbers, who’d been hiring them as guides and assistants since the mid-1900s. Watching the television program, Jared had been awed by the remoteness of their life, and had wondered if the Sherpas ever felt lonely in that harsh mountain region.

  For the first time, he found himself wondering if Ellie ever felt lonely. There were things other than mountains that could set people apart. Walls had a way of being built without anyone ever seeing them. Like the wall around Ellie in their classroom.

  He thought about her standing in the doorway a moment ago. Out of habit, he’d started to say “I’ll see you tomorrow.” But, of course, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d sit at her desk, working or reading, while he and every other kid in 6K would pretend she wasn’t even there.

  CHAPTER 10

  Standing outside the door of Mr. Keaton’s classroom, Jared saw Rafe sitting at his desk, talking to Kyle and Pete. From the hallway, Jared couldn’t make out what Rafe was saying, but he could tell the three were talking about the basketball tryout the day before. Or rather, Rafe was talking and the other two were listening intently, their eyes glued to Rafe’s hands as they made ball-handling motions in the air.

  No wonder Kyle and Pete were mesmerized, Jared thought. After yesterday’s scrimmage, he knew Rafe had an excellent chance of making the team. If Coach Jamieson did pick a sixth-grader, Rafe would probably be the one.

  “Good morning, Jared.”

  Jared turned to see Mr. Keaton holding the black leather briefcase he carried to class each day. Most of the students in 6K referred to it as “the black hole” because there seemed to be no end to the work the teacher could pull out of it. Many of them complained vigorously about the number of assignments the teacher gave them, but most of them liked Mr. Keaton. He made his lessons interesting, and he treated everyone in the same fair manner. Even as annoyed as Jared was at him for arranging the tutoring, Jared had to admit he was one of the best teachers he’d ever had.

  “Morning, Mr. Keaton.”

  “How was the tryout?”

  That was another thing Jared liked about the teacher: the way he took a real interest in his students’ activities, whether school related or not. “Brutal,” said Jared.

  The teacher smiled. “So Mr. Jamieson hasn’t mellowed since last year, eh?”

  Jared grinned in return. “No,” he said. “He really worked us.”

  Still smiling, Mr. Keaton patted his briefcase. “I’m going to do the same today,” he said. “Surprise quiz.”

  Jared’s face fell. “Math?” he groaned.

  The teacher nodded, then said quietly, “I’m interested to see if the tutoring has helped. How’s it been going, anyway?”

  Jared glanced around, but no one was within earshot. He shrugged and studied his feet. “Who knows?” he mumbled. What else could he say? He hadn’t had much trouble with the math homework the teacher had given them the day before, but that didn’t mean anything. There’d been plenty of times when Jared thought he’d understood what they were doing in class, only to get back a quiz or an assignment and find out he’d done most of it wrong. Sometimes all of it.

  “Give it time,” Mr. Keaton said, patting Jared’s shoulder as he moved past him into the classroom. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  Jared bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting, “Ya think?” A person would have to be an idiot to think that Rome—or any city, for that matter—could be built in a day. Give it time. There certainly wasn’t a whole lot of that left, what with the final basketball tryouts being held that afternoon. If by some miracle he actually did make the team, his math mark would certainly keep him from playing anyway.

  He stepped through the doorway and trudged toward his desk. As he passed Ellie’s seat, he noticed she had her face buried in a book. She glanced up as he moved by her, but he ignored her and slumped heavily into his chair.

  The final bell rang just as Jared passed his paper up to the front of his row. The morning and afternoon had dragged as he worried about the quiz, which Mr. Keaton had saved until the end of the day. There had been only one question, but it was a word problem—Jared hated those most of all—and it had taken him the full twenty minutes the teacher had given them to do it. The problem involved a man who wanted to plant an L-shaped flower garden and needed to know how many flowers he should buy to make a border and how much landscape fabric he needed to keep weeds from growing in the centre. Jared had no idea how to solve it, and at first he’d just turned his paper over and put his pencil down. Flowers and fabric. Jeez! Like any of it mattered.

  But when he looked up, he saw Ellie glancing back, frowning at him. He considered giving her the finger, but he couldn’t be bothered and just looked away. Watching the students around him looking at their papers, though, he remembered Mr. Keaton telling the class it was important to read a problem more than once. Reluctantly, he turned his paper back over and read the problem two more times, underlining words he thought might be important. Once he’d done that, he tried drawing the problem using the information he had underlined, and when he’d finished the picture, he found himself thinking about the things Ellie had done with the Kraft Dinner box and noodles. He wondered if he could do the same with the flowers and the landscape fabric and began jotting down numbers and thinking about whether he should add or multiply. He had just arrived at an answer when Mr. Keaton called for the quizzes.

  “What’d you get for the part about the border?” he heard Kyle ask Rafe as they left the classroom. Jared strained to hear Rafe’s reply, but it was lost in the sound of
lockers opening and closing and feet heading toward exits and the outdoors beyond.

  Jared sighed. It didn’t matter. He’d probably got it wrong anyway, like all those other times.

  “Why the long face, buddy?”

  Jared turned to see Steve fall into step beside him, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Math quiz,” Jared muttered.

  Steve punched Jared’s arm sympathetically. “Well, no use worryin’ about it now. Plenty ‘a time for that when you get it back, right?”

  Jared nodded. Leave it to Steve to put things into perspective. Right now, he had something a whole lot better to think about. The final tryout. Even though he probably wouldn’t make the team, he was going to play the next two and a half hours as if he already had. For that afternoon, at least, he would be a Cornwallis Cougar.

  CHAPTER 11

  “You check, okay?” Jared asked. He’d thought all weekend about the list going up that morning, but now he leaned against the wall on the other side of the hallway, refusing even to look at the paper tacked to the bulletin board beside the gymnasium doors. The paper around which thirty-seven other boys now jostled for position, craning their necks to see if their names were among the twelve on the list.

  Steve nodded and flashed a thumbs-up for luck, but his usual grin was missing. In its place was an expression worn by people just before they dove into dark water.

  Jared watched as his friend crossed the hall and threaded himself into the throng of bodies. Already some of the boys were pulling back, a few of them beaming with obvious pleasure but many of them shaking their heads or shrugging their shoulders. He saw Kyle and Pete shrugging and wasn’t all that surprised they hadn’t made the cut. Kyle and Pete were both excellent soccer players and outstanding forwards on their peewee hockey team, but strength alone wasn’t enough on the basketball court. With more ball-handling practice, they’d probably make Jamieson’s team next year.

  But Jared was surprised to see Rafe roughly push his way out of the milling group, cursing under his breath. “I should’ve made that cut!” he snapped.

  Kyle and Pete nodded vigorously. “You were one ‘a the best out there, Rafe,” Pete agreed. “Anyone could see that.”

  “Anyone with eyes and half a brain,” Rafe seethed. “Jamieson’s an idiot!”

  Jared was conscious of a growing silence in the hallway. Coach Jamieson was standing in the doorway to the gymnasium but, with their backs turned, neither Rafe nor his two friends were aware of the teacher’s presence. Someone noisily cleared his throat, but Rafe seemed oblivious to the warning.

  “Scratch that,” Rafe continued. “Jamieson would need monkey-brain injections just to raise his IQ to idiot.”

  Kyle snickered and Pete was in mid-guffaw when he stopped, suddenly acutely aware of the person behind them. “Hi, Mr. Jamieson,” he gulped.

  Rafe turned to face the teacher, and Jared was amazed at how coolly his classmate responded to the moment’s awkwardness. “Hi, Mr. Jamieson,” Rafe said, as if he’d been expecting the man to appear.

  Coach Jamieson was blunt. “You have a problem with the list, Wells?”

  Rafe flushed, but only for a moment. “Yes, I do,” he said. “My name should be on it.”

  “You’re right,” the coach said. “Your name should be on it.”

  The man’s statement clearly caught Rafe off guard, and Jared watched as satisfaction and surprise alternately flickered across the boy’s face. “It should?” Rafe finally asked.

  “Yes, it should,” Jamieson replied. “And if I were looking only for ability in a player, it would be. You’re good, Rafe. In fact, you’ve got some of the best technical skills I’ve ever seen in a player your age.”

  Rafe beamed, as Pete and Kyle clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s what we was just sayin’, Mr. Jamieson,” said Kyle.

  The coach looked around the hallway, seeming to direct his next comment to all the boys watching the exchange. “But basketball isn’t just about skill and scoring points,” he continued. “It’s about teamwork and knowing when to pass the ball. It’s understanding that five people get that ball to the hoop every time. Not just one.” He shook his head solemnly. “You play like you’re the only person on the court, Rafe. I don’t need stars. I need a team.” He turned to move down the hallway, then stopped and looked back. “If it’s any consolation, you were on my first list, and I thought long and hard before cutting you. And if one of the boys I picked isn’t able to play, I’ll rethink my decision. Meanwhile, you’ve got some learning to do.” He continued down the hallway, turned a corner, and was gone.

  There was another awkward silence, and most of the boys gathered around the gymnasium bulletin board melted away. For a long moment, Rafe stood staring after Jamieson, an expression on his face unlike anything Jared had seen before. Then Rafe made a sound that might have been a laugh—or something else altogether—and strode off toward homeroom, Kyle and Pete trailing behind him.

  Jared watched them go, all the while replaying in his head the scene that had just unfolded. He whistled under his breath, imagining another scene that would unfold later that day. When Rafe told his dad he hadn’t made the team.

  “Well?”

  Jared turned to see Steve standing by the list, the smile on his face showing every one of his teeth. “Well, what?” Jared asked.

  “How’s it feel to be a Cougar?”

  It took a moment for the question to hit home. “You serious?” Jared said, his voice little more than a croak. “I made the team?”

  Steve’s smile threatened to split his face in two. “We both did, buddy!”

  The two friends were still crowing over their good fortune and slapping each other on the back when they arrived at the door of Mr. Keaton’s classroom.

  “I can’t believe it!” Jared exclaimed for the tenth time. “We’re Cougars!”

  “I keep thinkin’ I’m gonna wake up and Mom’ll be yellin’ for me to get ready for school,” said Steve. “I keep pinchin’ myself to make sure I ain’t dreamin’.”

  Jared grinned. “Same here.”

  The warning bell rang, and Steve high-fived his friend once more. “See you at lunch, okay?” Then he was off, still shaking his head in disbelief.

  Jared entered the classroom, making a conscious effort to keep from whistling. He’d spied Rafe across the room, muttering to Pete and Kyle, and he didn’t want them to think he was rubbing it in about being picked for the team over them. As he made his way toward his seat, he passed Ellie, who had her nose buried in what looked to be a dictionary. Figures. But even her weirdness couldn’t take the edge off his excitement. He couldn’t wait to go one on one with Steve at lunch. Now that they were Cougars, they really had to practise.

  “Hey, Jared.”

  Jared turned to see Rafe smiling at him.

  “Congratulations.”

  Jared nodded, embarrassed by the attention. Usually Rafe didn’t give him the time of day. “Thanks,” he said.

  Rafe turned as though to speak to Pete and Kyle, but his voice was loud enough for Jared to hear. “Hey, don’t we get our math quizzes back today?”

  Jared’s exhilaration vanished, and he suppressed a groan. The math quiz. He’d forgotten all about it.

  Well, so much for making the team. Once Jamieson got wind of his math mark, that would be the end of his career as a Cougar. The shortest on record.

  Jared looked again at Rafe, who flashed him an even broader smile.

  The morning seemed to pass in slow motion as Jared waited for math period to begin. Social studies, French, and language arts crawled by. Even recess brought him no relief. Although it was an unusually warm day for late October, he didn’t go outside, but just sat in his seat and played with his pencil, doodling the word “Cougars” over and over again on his paper before drawing an X through all of them. When Mr. Keaton asked if he was feeling okay, Jared just shrugged and kept doodling and drawing Xs.

  “I heard you made the team, Jared,” said Mr. Ke
aton. “That’s terrific!” When Jared didn’t reply, the teacher continued, “Mr. Jamieson spoke to me about you this morning in the staff room. He was very impressed by what he saw.”

  Ordinarily, praise like that from the coach would have sent Jared into cartwheels. But he only shrugged. Just as Mr. Keaton was about to say something else, the bell rang and the rest of the students began pouring into the room.

  When the class had taken out their math books, Mr. Keaton reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder thick with papers. “I marked your math quizzes last night, and I’d planned to pass them back at the end of math—”

  Loud groans from many of the students interrupted him.

  The teacher grinned. “As I said, I had planned to pass them back at the end of math, but I think today I’ll pass them back at the beginning.”

  Jared looked down at his “Cougar” doodles, drew a large X again through all of them, and crumpled the paper in his fist.

  As usual, Mr. Keaton began by commenting on the performance of the class in general before moving on to specific students. Although he never passed back tests or assignments in order of marks, he often singled out individuals who had done exceptionally well or showed real improvement. “Five people scored perfect marks,” Mr. Keaton said. He called out their names and passed their quizzes back to them. Ellie, of course, was among them, as was Rafe, who was an excellent student overall and sometimes tied with Ellie for highest in math.

  “There were three others,” continued the teacher, “who scored second highest on the quiz, losing only one point for simple mistakes.” He called out two names—Emily Richards and Bobby Hightower—and then the third.

  A murmur floated over the rows, and Jared looked up. Everyone seemed to be looking at him. Including the teacher.

  “Aren’t you going to come get your quiz?” Mr. Keaton asked.

  Jared turned around to look at Lisa Berringer, who sat directly behind him.