End Zone

by Tiki Barber

  “Wow!” Tiki yelled from the sideline, leaping along with his twin. “He came out of nowhere! Did you see that?”

  With time winding down, the Eagles got the ball at midfield. He was nearly exhausted, but there was no stopping Tiki. He pounded much bigger defenders, knocking them flat on their rear ends as he bulled ahead for yardage like a fullback.

  Finally, on the Bear three-yard line, with first and goal, a surprise play came in from Coach Wheeler. “Quarterback reverse!” Hayden told them.

  Another trick play! Hayden took the snap, faked a handoff to Tiki, then turned and ran toward the sideline, as if he were out of the play . . .

  . . . except that he had the ball tucked behind his back! When Hayden snuck into the end zone, it sealed the Eagle victory at 28–21, and saved them from a terrible loss that would have tarnished their perfect season.

  Tiki was so happy, so relieved, and so exhausted, that only after he’d showered and changed did he realize he’d forgotten something very important.

  He found Manny in the trainer’s room. “Hey, dude,” he said, “how’s your head?”

  Manny frowned. “I told Coach I could go back in there, but he wasn’t having any. So go ask him how I am.”

  Tiki could see Manny was upset. He felt like saying, It’s okay, man—we won the game. We’re still undefeated!

  But he knew Manny would take it the wrong way. When people are angry, Tiki knew, sometimes it’s best not to try to reason with them.

  “The main thing is, you’re okay,” he finally said, clapping Manny on the back and retreating.

  “I’m fine, man,” Manny insisted. “Totally fine. It was just a little bump on the head. No big deal.”

  Tiki nodded. He sure hoped Manny was right.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SUPERSTITION

  * * *

  RONDE WAS FEELING GOOD. THE TEAM HAD HAD a scare, for sure—but the only thing that mattered was the final score. He couldn’t help smiling as he looked around at the rest of the Eagles. They were close—almost like a family. They’d been through something amazing together—and they’d just had a big reminder of how incredible it was to be where they were.

  “Do you know the last time there was an undefeated team in this league?” Coach Wheeler asked as they gathered around him.

  None of them did.

  “1965.”

  A few low whistles sounded in their midst. “The last undefeated team that also won the League Championship was in 1954.”

  “Wow,” Ronde said, along with several others.

  “I want you to look around this room,” Wheeler said. “Look into the eyes of these young men who are your teammates—the ones you rely on week in and week out.”

  Ronde caught Tiki’s eye and they both smiled. Coach Wheeler had come a long way from the beginning of last year—his first game as a coach. They’d all come a long way. And there was nobody better than Coach Wheeler to remind them that they were on the brink of something very special.

  “You guys are one victory away from an undefeated season. You are three victories away from being undefeated League Champs! I’m sure there have been undefeated State Champs—I didn’t look that one up—but if we get that far, just imagine . . . Take a moment and picture yourselves there. . . .”

  The room grew silent. “Okay,” Coach finally said. “Now I want you to forget all that, and concentrate on only one thing—next week’s game against Pulaski. I don’t have to tell you about them. Last time, we beat them by one point—and they’re a whole lot better than the Blue Ridge Bears. Nobody’s going to hand us this prize. We’re going to have to get it on our own.

  “So from this moment on, it’s one game at a time. It’s one play at a time. Each of you will have to reach deep down inside himself, if we’re going to achieve our goals. Remember character is everything in the game.

  “Now go home, but don’t lose your focus over the holiday weekend, because you’ll be mentally ready when game time comes. Of course, that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourselves—eat some turkey, have some laughs, and remember how lucky we all are to know one another. Be thankful that we’re Eagles!”

  There was a thunderous cheer, and people began pounding on their lockers to make even more noise. Ronde was really enjoying it—but then he saw Manny covering his ears and wincing in pain.

  “Hey, guys, that’s enough!” Ronde shouted, motioning for calm. “Let’s go—everyone’s waiting for us outside.”

  They filed out of the room—all except for Tiki, Manny, Coach Wheeler, and Ronde.

  “You okay, Manny?” Ronde asked.

  Manny sprang to his feet and headed for the door. “I’M FINE!” he yelled. “When is everybody going to stop asking me that?”

  The door slammed behind him, leaving Tiki, Ronde, and Coach Wheeler to look at one another in bewilderment.

  • • •

  “Ma, this is the best turkey ever!” Ronde said. But with his mouth stuffed full, it came out more like “Mafishbshtrkvr!”

  “Ronde Barber!” their mom scolded him. “How many times have I told you boys—”

  “Not to talk with our mouths full!” Tiki finished for her. But of course, it sounded more like “Mtkfmfsfl!”

  Mrs. Barber had to laugh, even though she did set high store by good manners. Ronde knew she took great pride in her cooking, and turkey dinner wasn’t something the family had every day, or even every month.

  “Mind your manners, both of you!” she scolded, trying hard to frown. “Now, before we move on to the desserts—”

  “Desserts!” cooed Aunt Flora, her eyes widening and her hands coming together as if in prayer. To Aunt Flora, who was more than slightly chubby, dessert was something to be prayed for—and nobody’s desserts were better than Mrs. Barber’s.

  “Why, Geraldine, you are something else! How do you do it all?”

  Mrs. Barber beamed. “The boys made the dessert,” she declared.

  Aunt Flora’s smile weakened just a bit. “Oh?”

  “Yes! It’s Jell-O and marshmallow pie.”

  “Jell-O and . . .”

  “Marshmallow. Lime Jell-O. With whipped cream.”

  “Oh!” Aunt Flora said. “I’m sure it’s delicious—but I am rather stuffed.”

  “Flora, no!” Mrs. Barber said. “I won’t allow you to refuse. The boys are famous for their Jell-O-mello pie. Aren’t you, boys?”

  “We sure are!” Ronde and Tiki said, slapping five across the table.

  “Mmm. Well, then,” said Aunt Flora, giving them each a smile. “I suppose I must try just a little. . . .”

  “As I was saying,” Mrs. Barber resumed, “before we have dessert, I would like us all to say what we’re most thankful for this year.”

  Ronde saw Tiki roll his eyes. He knew how his twin felt. Sometimes, their mom could seem corny. But that was only if you weren’t paying close attention. Really, she was trying hard to teach them the right way to live, so they’d grow up to be good, successful men. And being thankful for what you had was a big part of that.

  “I’ll start,” said their mom. “I’m thankful for the jobs I have—the jobs that put this food on our table. Lord knows it was hard to get them, and it’s hard to keep them too. I’m most thankful for my two wonderful sons, and for our family. . . .” Here, she looked at Aunt Flora, Uncle Henry, and their three children, Kwame, Patrice, and Theo. “All right, who’s next?”

  Everyone said what they were thankful for. Tiki talked about being a star on the Eagles, how he was thankful for getting good grades and having the world’s best mother . . . and brother. “I’m thankful for all the gifts I’ve been given—and the mind to use them well,” he finished.

  “Very good, Tiki!” Aunt Flora said. “My, doesn’t he speak well.”

  Then it was Ronde’s turn. He was shyer than Tiki, and Aunt Flora’s words made him not want to say anything at all. But he didn’t want to be embarrassed, so he found his courage, and began.

  “I’m
thankful for Mom, and for Tiki, and that I finally got bigger.” Everyone laughed. For about six months, while Tiki shot up more than an inch a month, Ronde hadn’t grown at all. Finally, he’d caught up, and the twins were the same size again at last.

  “I’m also thankful for the gift of being good at sports . . . at football in particular. I don’t like to say it, because I don’t want to jinx it, but, well, we’re close to having an undefeated season, and—”

  “SHHH!!” Tiki said. “Don’t talk about that! It’s bad luck.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Barber said. “It’s how you play on the field, not what you say off of it, that makes you win or lose.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Aunt Flora, with a worried look on her face. “A black cat crossed my path last month, and the next day, I broke my wrist!” She held up her left hand, which was still wrapped in a sling.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Barber repeated under her breath. “Oh, well, I think it’s time for dessert. Tiki and Ronde, would you like to do the honors?”

  Both boys didn’t wait to be asked twice. They sprang up and rushed toward the kitchen, colliding twice in the narrow hallway that connected the dining room to it.

  “Get out of my way!” Tiki said, pawing his way ahead of Ronde.

  “I’m getting it!” Ronde shot back, yanking on Tiki’s shirt.

  They both grabbed the tray at the same time, from either end.

  “Okay, we’ve both got it,” Ronde said.

  “Give it over,” said Tiki, tugging on it lightly.

  “You!”

  “No, you!”

  “Boys?” came their mother’s voice from the dining room.

  Seeing that Tiki was momentarily distracted, Ronde grabbed the tray out of his hands and rushed for the dining room.

  “Hey!” Tiki yelled, and leaped after Ronde. His toe caught Ronde’s heel in the middle of the narrow hallway, and the tray went flying. First it hit the big mirror in the hallway, cracking it in two places. Then the Jell-O-mello pie fell right on Tiki and Ronde’s heads.

  Everyone laughed when they saw the boys with the Jell-O and marshmallows on them. Everyone except their mother, who had her hands to her face and was staring at the hallway.

  “My good mirror!” she gasped.

  Aunt Flora gasped too, and rose from her chair with a shocked look on her face. “Oh, no!” she cried. “Seven years bad luck!”

  • • •

  “She’s full of baloney,” Tiki said. “Seven years bad luck, my foot!”

  He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Ronde lay in his own bed, across the room. The company was just saying good-bye downstairs, but the two boys had long since been banished to their room for the night.

  “What if she’s right?” Ronde said in a loud whisper. “What if—?”

  “Just be quiet,” Tiki told him. “If you hadn’t been so selfish—”

  “Me? If you hadn’t lunged at me—”

  “If you hadn’t—”

  “Never mind!” Ronde said. “Forget it. You’re probably right. It’s just a silly superstition.”

  “Exactly.”

  The room fell silent, and soon, Ronde could hear Tiki snoring softly. He wished he could sleep too. Then he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about all the disasters that might happen if Aunt Flora just happened to be right.

  • • •

  It was a long holiday weekend. Friday lazed by and faded into Saturday, with its college football games on TV, and Sunday, with the NFL broadcasts. Of course, it wasn’t all sitting on the couch and staring at the screen. The cousins stayed right on into Saturday afternoon, so there were street football games too.

  Tiki and Ronde had fun, but they didn’t play full-out. Their cousins were younger, and not as athletic, and besides, neither twin wanted to take the slightest risk of injuring himself. They had broken that mirror, after all—and who knew whether the old superstition had some truth in it?

  But by Monday morning, they’d forgotten all about it. There had been no other mishaps. Ronde was starting to think he’d been a fool to give that broken mirror more than a moment’s thought—other than he and Tiki having to pay for it out of their savings.

  Morning classes went quickly, and a pop quiz in math kept him focused on his schoolwork all the way till lunch period.

  This was what he’d been waiting for. The chance to hang out with the rest of the Eagles at their unofficial table, to talk football, and Pulaski, and maybe going undefeated for the regular season—something even last year’s State Champion Eagles hadn’t done.

  The gang was there, all right—all the usual suspects. More than half the team took lunch this period, and most of them chose to eat together. Usually, it was a pretty raucous corner of the cafeteria—but not today. Everywhere Ronde looked, there were glum faces staring back at him, or down at the table, or just into space.

  “What’s up?” Ronde asked. “It looks like a funeral around here.”

  “Manny’s out,” Paco said. “Have a seat and join the pity party.”

  “Huh?”

  “He’s out, Ronde,” Adam said. “As in, he’s not playing this week.”

  “Next week, either, probably,” Justin added.

  “What the—?”

  “Concussion, dude,” Paco explained. “He was having headaches after the game, so they took him to the doctor, and he’s got to shut it down.”

  “For how long?” Ronde asked, sinking down into a chair. Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach. The smell of food in the cafeteria, which had been making him hungry up till that moment, now had the opposite effect.

  “Whenever they give him the ‘all-clear’ to play. Could be a week, could be a month.” Paco sighed. “What are we gonna do now?”

  Ronde shook his head. He had no answers.

  None of them did.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE MIRROR CRACKED

  * * *

  TIKI BOUNCED INTO THE CAFETERIA, FEELING ON top of the world. In his hand was his latest English composition, with a big red A+ marked on top of it. “Yeah, baby, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he said, showing it off to some kids he knew at the nearest table.

  He remembered way back in seventh grade, when he’d first arrived at Hidden Valley Junior High. He recalled how shy he’d been, afraid to raise his hand or speak up in class. That all seemed so long ago now. He’d given a speech in front of the whole school that had gotten a standing ovation. They’d even asked him to write an advice column in the school paper because they thought he was so together. And of course, everyone knew and loved him as the co-captain of the Eagles.

  He was sorry this was his last year here. In September, he’d be a lowly freshman at Hidden Valley High School. No more being top man on the totem pole. Probably riding the bench on the football team too, like he had back in seventh grade.

  Maybe not, though. Coach Spangler at the high school knew Tiki and Ronde. He’d seen some of their games. Tiki hoped he’d put them right into the starting lineup, so they could team up with their friend Matt Clayton, who was the star quarterback there.

  Still, it would mean starting from scratch. Here, he’d built up so much on the way to this moment. He was one of the most popular kids in school—and if the Eagles went undefeated and won the State Championship again, he’d go out a legend, never to be forgotten at Hidden Valley Junior High. . . .

  Those were his thoughts as he approached the Eagles’ unofficial tables. But when he saw them all, with their long faces and their hurt puppy-dog eyes, every happy thought went right out of Tiki’s head.

  “Okay . . . what?” he asked, sitting down in a hurry.

  When they told him the bad news about Manny, Tiki had to fight back the sudden urge to hurl. He wanted to run away as fast as he could, to a place where none of this had happened, where the team’s future still looked bright, shiny, and perfect.

  “What are we going to do?” he asked, more to himself than to anyone else. No one answered him, anyw
ay.

  Tiki couldn’t manage to eat his lunch that day. Neither, he noticed, could Ronde. Most of the other players hadn’t done too well on their food either.

  Manny Alvaro was only an eighth grader, of course. Not a star like Matt Clayton used to be at quarterback, or even a standout passer like Cody Hansen last year.

  Still, your quarterback was your quarterback. Manny was a great scrambler. That helped his receivers get free. Manny and Tiki had always had a great rhythm together too—rarely did a handoff or a quick pass get dropped.

  Hayden, by contrast, was a big, tall kid who could throw the ball a mile—but he had zero game experience. And this one against Pulaski was the biggest game of the season—against the Eagles’ most dangerous opponent! How could they expect Hayden to step into Manny’s shoes and guide them to victory?

  The Eagles all parted ways to go to their classes. Tiki felt alone, almost in a bubble, as he walked down the hall. He ignored all the hands raised in attempted high fives. The calls of “Yo, Tiki!” sounded like they were coming from miles away. GO, EAGLES! posters covered the walls in every hallway.

  The image of the broken mirror came into his head. All those pieces of shattered glass on the floor . . .

  “Wait a minute!” he told himself, stopping dead.

  “Oof!” Someone bumped into him from behind. “Hey, what are you—oh, Tiki! Sorry, man, didn’t know it was you.” The kid clapped him on the back and kept going, while Tiki stared ahead, lost in his own thoughts.

  “I can’t let some stupid superstition beat me,” he told himself. “I’m Tiki Barber, and Barbers know how to play proud.”

  He began walking again, this time with a sense of purpose, as if he was on a mission. “The team can’t count on Hayden to lead us. So the offense is gonna have to lean on me.”

  He knew he could handle the weight. He’d done it before, whenever the team was down for the count, and looking to him to come through. There was no reason he couldn’t do it again—one more time, or two more times, or even three if he had to.

  “Tiki?” his math teacher, Ms. Brownstein, wore a puzzled look as she watched Tiki walk right by her door. “Aren’t you coming in?”