Mariam sat down beside me on the bench. She leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “I wish my mom and dad would leave. It feels like they’re just staying to spy on me.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Spying? Really?”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “That’s what it feels like. They’re going to be so bored. Neither of them likes basketball.”
“At least my parents are here, too,” I said. “They can keep them company.”
“Did you say anything to your mom about Jillian’s party?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. How about you?”
Mariam pressed her lips together and pulled her eyebrows in tight. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”
Oh no, I silently groaned. I know that look.
She leaned in close, an intense look on her face. “Ask your parents if I can sleep over. Even though it’s a Sunday night, my parents will probably say yes because there’s no school Monday. When we get to your house, we’ll ask your mom if she can take us to the movie theatre at Forest Park Mall. I checked and there’s a movie that starts at nine-thirty. Then we’ll sneak out and walk to Jillian’s house. We’ll leave her house before eleven-thirty to get back to the movie theatre in time for your mom to pick us up.”
Mariam was wasting her talent on sewing. She should be a military strategist. But as good as the plan sounded, all I could hear was the ring of warning bells in my head. “Mariam —”
She cut me off. “Please, Sadia! I missed the last party to hang out with you. Don’t make me miss another one.”
“You missed the last party because you wanted to, remember?”
“Whatever.” She waved her hands like the details didn’t matter. “You know what I mean. If we tell your parents we’re going to Jillian’s, they’ll want to call my mom and make sure it’s okay. What if they want to call Jillian’s mom? They could wreck the party!”
I sighed, filled with indecision. “Let me think about it.”
Mariam gave my uniform a pointed look, a reminder of all she’d done for me.
When the other kids were changed and ready, Mr. Letner stood up and gestured for us to follow him to the gym. I heard the kids from school before I saw them. Shouts and cheers from the bleachers filled the gym when we walked in and I almost felt bad for our opponents. Carmina stood on the top row, holding up her sign.
The sportsplex was so big that there was enough room for two courts on the gym floor. A curtain divided the spaces. Our team took their spots on the benches set up on one side, and the spectators sat on bleachers on the other side. A timekeeper was already at his table against the curtain and he was talking with the referee. The clock on the wall showed the countdown was on: fifteen minutes until game time.
We each grabbed a ball for warm-up, taking shots and running the same passing and driving drills that we used in practice. I gave my parents a thumbs-up as Mr. Letner called us in to go over our positions and last-minute pointers before the game began. “Excuse me, Coach?” The referee had walked over to our bench. An older man, he had greying hair that stuck out like wings over his ears. “Can I have a word?”
Mr. Letner looked annoyed, but put down his clipboard and stood up. “Sure.”
Five minutes until game time.
The students in the bleachers had started chanting: “Let’s go, Thunder, let’s go!” My parents were clapping along with the beat of the words. Their voices were so loud the floor trembled. Over by the timekeeper’s table, Mr. Letner was shaking his head and gesturing at us. His hands went to his hips and he stared down at the ref. “What’s going on?” Josh asked, frowning. It wasn’t like Mr. Letner to get so upset.
Mr. Letner marched across the gym floor and pulled a black binder out of his bag marked “Rule Book.” He went back to the ref, flipping through the pages, stabbing his finger at something. He looked like he wanted to throw the binder at the ref, who continued to shake his head. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Mr. Letner shouted. We all stared at him wide-eyed when he came back to the bench. His face was pulsing red. He took a moment to compose himself.
“Sadia, I need to speak to you.” His voice was tight. Had I done something wrong?
The time clock was frozen at one minute to game time.
Mr. Letner led me away from the team. His mouth was pinched tight with anger. “I sent in a request to the officials when you first made the team, asking about your head scarf and if it would be a problem.”
I nodded, remembering the conversation.
“I didn’t hear back from them and assumed it was fine. Then when Mariam made you this new outfit, I felt confident that you’d be able to play.”
A sick swell started in my stomach and rose up in my throat. I knew what was coming next and I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to close my ears so that Mr. Letner’s words wouldn’t echo in my brain. “The ref is telling me that your outfit doesn’t comply with tournament rules and you can’t play unless you change.”
All I heard was:
Can’t play.
Can’t play.
Can’t play.
I stood mute and gaped at my parents in the bleachers. One look at my face and Dad stood up. He held out his hand to help Mom step down the bleachers. Together, they walked across the court to where I was standing with Mr. Letner.
I barely heard him explain the problem. All I could think about was that I might not be able to play because of a stupid rule. Dad flapped his arms and said something about human rights. Mom pulled me against her and rubbed my shoulders. Mr. Letner shook his head in tight-lipped disbelief. When Dad demanded to see the rule book, Mr. Letner showed it to him and together they discussed the legality of it. “It’s not just that,” Mr. Letner said. “Part of the permission form you signed said you agreed with the terms and conditions of the league. There’s no way around this, except for Sadia to take off her head covering.”
Dad sputtered in outrage. “That’s not possible.”
“What should she do? Watch from the sidelines? She’s been looking forward to this tournament all year!” Mom said, looking between them, eyebrows drawn together in anger.
Mr. Letner was at a loss. He looked helplessly at my parents.
“What’s going on?” Mariam asked, coming to my side. “Is everything okay?” I turned to look at her. Tears welled in my eyes. From the gym entrance, I saw Amira enter with Miss McKay. She’d made it, come all this way to watch me play, for nothing.
“The official says Sadia’s outfit is against regulations.”
Mariam’s face went from normal to volcanic in five seconds. Her eyes narrowed and her chin jutted forward. “That’s not fair! Her outfit is totally regulation.” I’d never seen Mariam so mad. She turned on her heel and was about to storm over to the ref when Mr. Letner put out his arm to bar her from going further.
“Arguing with him won’t help.”
The crowd in the bleachers was getting restless. They wanted the game to start or to find out what the holdup was. Josh stood up at the bench and held up his hands. “What’s going on?” he shouted.
“They aren’t letting Sadia play!” Mariam shouted back. I cringed and wished I could crawl under the bench. Now the whole gym knew. I’d never been embarrassed about my religion before. And I still wasn’t. I wasn’t embarrassed to be Muslim, but it was humiliating to be treated differently because I was Muslim.
“What?” The whole team stood in an uproar. “Why not?” “How come?” “Come on, Ref!” they all shouted.
The kids in the bleachers figured out what was going on.
“Come on!” Allan shouted. “Let her play! Let her play!” He raised his fist with each word and the team started to chant along.
Then, the people in the bleachers started. “Let her play!” they yelled in unison, stomping their feet to the beat. The ref from the other game came to ask everyone to
quiet down, but that just made them cheer louder. Mariam started to chant it, too, and raised her arms to make the volume in the gym go up even higher. I looked around. All the fans in the bleachers were on their feet, yelling on my behalf. The ref had tried to blow his whistle, but it didn’t do any good. He was fighting a losing battle. He retreated to the office on the side of the gym.
Amira had made her way over to the bleachers with Miss McKay. She’d have figured out what was going on by now. I didn’t want her knowing that as great as Canada was, this was happening. I was being denied my chance to play because I was Muslim.
Josh ran over to our circle. “Mr. Letner?”
Mr. Letner turned to him.
“The team took a vote.” Josh looked at me. “We aren’t playing unless Sadia plays, too. We’ll forfeit the game if we have to.”
I didn’t want to start crying, but hearing my friends chanting for me and knowing what my team was willing to sacrifice made tears well up in my eyes and tumble down my cheeks. I wiped them away, but they kept coming. Mom was crying, too, holding her hand over her mouth. I thought she was going to hug Josh.
I looked at my team. They were still shouting, “Let her play!” at the top of their voices. Jillian had pulled out her phone and was filming the whole thing, panning the bleachers and my teammates.
The ref came out of the office and went to talk to the other team. The players were looking as confused as their coach. They had a short conversation and then the ref came to the middle of the floor. He held up his hands and waited for the chanting to die down. Mr. Letner motioned for the team to sit quietly and listen. My parents and I moved against the wall. Mom and Dad each took one of my hands and held it in theirs. Mariam shot the ref a fiery look and moved close to me, as if her waifish body could protect me from his words. “I have contacted the basketball tournament officials. Even though the player’s uniform is not regulation —” There was lots of booing when he said this. He had to wait until things quieted down again. “The other team has agreed to let her play.” It was impossible to hear his next words because the cheering was so loud. Feet stomping, clapping, and shouting filled the gymnasium. Mom squeezed my hand and held me against her. I looked at my team through watery eyes. They could have just let me leave, but they’d been willing to stand up for me.
“The game will begin in five minutes,” the ref said and nodded at the timekeeper to reset the countdown clock. Mr. Letner, Josh, Mariam, and I walked to the bench. I got hugs and high-fives from everyone on the team.
“Thanks, you guys,” I said tearfully.
“We weren’t going to let that happen,” Jillian piped up.
“Stupid rules.” Allan balled up his fists like he wanted to punch something.
Josh moved close to me. His fingers grazed mine. Was it an accident? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Focus, I told myself. I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms. I needed to concentrate on what Mr. Letner was saying, not on how close Josh was standing next to me.
“Okay,” Mr. Letner said with a deep breath. We all looked at him, tense with pent-up nerves. “Kids, there’s nothing I can tell you about playing as a team that you don’t already know.” He looked each one of us in the eyes. “Show the same kind of spirit that you just showed for Sadia when you are on the court and no one will be able to beat you.” His voice turned to a low growl. “Now, get out there and win this game!”
We all cheered and put our hands in to count “Three, two, one, Thunder!”
“Hey, Mr. Letner,” Josh said as he ran on the court, “I thought basketball was all about fun.”
Mr. Letner shook his head. “Not anymore. Now we have something to prove in this tournament.” He looked at me. “You ready?”
I met Mr. Letner’s eyes. My team had stood behind me; it was time for me to show them what happens when you give a girl a basketball.
Chapter 21
The game had been a lot of back-and-forth play. We’d been leading for most of it, but only by a couple of points. The other team had some really strong players. No one was as tall as Jillian, but some of the boys were quick and could dribble through our defence. The other coach called a time out with a minute and thirty seconds left. I’d been subbed out, but Mr. Letner had already given me the nod that I was going in for the last shift. We had possession of the ball, so as small forward, it was going to be my job to get the ball to Jillian to see if she could use her pivot moves to score.
“Josh, you and Jillian are going to move up. Sadia, fake that you are going to pass to Josh, but look for Jillian. If she is open, pass to her. Jill, drive up and shoot. Thomas, you get ready for the rebound. We’ve missed a few, and I don’t want to give them the chance to score.” Mr. Letner stretched out his hand. We piled ours on top of it. “Three, two, one, Thunder!” we shouted in unison. The ref blew his whistle and we pounded across the court into our positions.
I slapped the ball to start the play. Josh had run downcourt. Jillian was on the other side, flanked by two players. No matter which way she pivoted, she couldn’t get free of them. Josh was open; I dribbled down to half court, taking my time. A minute and fifteen seconds was left on the clock. If we scored and the other team got the ball, they’d have a chance to get a basket and then who knew what would happen? I could wait up here and drain the clock, but eventually someone would charge me and I might lose it. Focus, I said to myself and took a breath. Finally, Jillian managed to get herself free. I faked a throw to Josh and sent the pass to Jillian. She dribbled once, twice, and then took a jump shot. The ball sailed into the basket. Thomas was underneath. He got the rebound and hugged it against him, then bounce-passed to Josh. Josh looked for an opening, pivoting in all directions, but couldn’t get free of the players covering him. “Josh!” I called. He ducked under one guy’s arm, spotted me, and tossed the ball my way. I caught it, spun around, held out my left hand to protect it, and moved up to the net. I spun and took a shot. It went in! The kids in the stands cheered. Less than thirty seconds on the clock.
The other team had possession. They started downcourt. I blocked the point guard at centre court, determined not to let him pass me. My basketball shoes squeaked with each step I took. I jammed them into the floor, holding my ground. Twenty seconds. He tried to pass to his centre; Josh intercepted and ran upcourt and scored! The other team stood, lifeless, and checked the scoreboard. We were up by eight points and there was only fifteen seconds left on the clock.
Everyone went crazy in the stands when the buzzer sounded. “One down, two to go!” Mr. Letner said as he high-fived us coming off the court. “Great effort, everyone. You played like a team.” Then he looked directly at me when he said, “You showed a lot of mental grit out there. I’m proud of you.” He scanned the team, and added, “All of you! Now rest up. Our next game is against the Lazers and they are tough.” That news was met with excitement.
We went to centre court to shake hands with the other team and then stood in a line to hear which players were selected as MVPs by the coaches. Mr. Letner called the centre from the other team forward to receive his certificate. The other team’s coach took the microphone and said, “I kinda wish we hadn’t said she could play.” Everyone laughed. Jillian gave me a backslap and Thomas held his fist up for a bump. “Come on over, Number Seven.”
Mom stood up and snapped a photo on her phone. Dad raised his hands in triumph. “From almost not being allowed to play, to winning MVP. Pretty impressive!” Mr. Letner whispered in my ear.
But I knew it wouldn’t have been possible without my team. I was lucky to have them standing beside me.
Mr. Letner ordered pizzas from the canteen and set us up in a quiet corridor to rest before our next game. A few kids lay down on their gym bags to listen to music or watch shows on their phones. Mariam went to find Amira, while Jillian, Josh, Thomas, and I sat in a circle talking. “I used to play hockey against some of the kids from the Lazers,”
Josh said. “They’re tough.”
“I heard they’re dirty, too,” Thomas added. Small and quick, Thomas was serious and focused when he was on the court.
“They were watching the last few minutes of the game,” Jillian said. “They booed when we scored.”
From down the hallway, we heard a nasty laugh. “Resting up?” a boy called. He was tall and broad, with blond hair buzzed to his scalp. He wore a Lazers warm-up jacket.
“Ugh,” Josh groaned, looking to see who’d spoken. “Derek,” he muttered under his breath the same way he would have if he’d found a squashed bug in his pizza.
Allan piped up. “No! But you should be. By the way, nice track suits. Does it say Lazers, or Losers?” Allan asked squinting at Derek’s jacket.
Derek gave him the finger and walked back into the gym. Josh gave us a look like What did I tell you?
“Guys like him are all talk,” Jillian said louder than she needed to, hoping he’d hear. Jillian might not have been intimidated by them, but I was. And she could tell when she looked at my face. She waved a dismissive hand at Derek. “Don’t worry about him.” I saw Mariam walking from the gym with Amira and waved. Everyone shuffled over to make room for them in the circle. Amira looked at me with bright eyes, her face more animated than usual.
“Congratulations!” she said.
I grinned back at her, relieved that after coming all this way, she’d been able to see me play and win.
“Was that your first basketball game?” Allan asked. I repeated the question in Arabic and Amira nodded. “What do you think?” he asked her.
“Tell him it was exciting and fun. He’s a good player.” Allan grinned when I relayed what she’d said. “But you’re better,” she said quietly to me. I didn’t translate that part.
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