Kickoff!

by Tiki Barber

  Five council members said ‘aye.’ Four said ‘nay.’ The people in the audience stood up and cheered again, applauding Mrs. Barber.

  On the way out, Tiki and Ronde each held one of her hands. Everyone congratulated them—the boys, too, as if they’d done something. But Ronde was so proud of his mother right then, he could have burst.

  “You boys understand now?” she asked them.

  “Uh-huh,” they both said.

  She wasn’t smiling, though, and Ronde thought she looked worried. “What’s wrong, Ma?” he asked. “Didn’t everything go good?”

  “Go well,” she corrected him. “No, it didn’t go well, Ronde.”

  “But—”

  “They gave us one more chance, is all—one chance to show them that people are against this factory being built. And it’s up to us to show them.”

  “Us?”

  “Me and Mrs. Pendergast, and the other people who showed up tonight. Believe me, the council isn’t going to put up billboards advertising the next meeting. It’s going to be up to us.”

  “What are you going to do, Ma?” Tiki asked.

  “I may not be a big muckety-muck,” she said, “but I’ve got friends—lots of friends, people I know—and they all know people too. I’m going to see to it that we have a hundred folks at that next meeting, and a thousand more names on a petition to stop that factory!”

  Now Ronde wasn’t so happy. Sure, he was proud of his mom, but he was also worried. Mrs. Pendergast would be coming over to their house all the time now—and all the kids would know it.

  • • •

  As he suited up for practice the next afternoon, Ronde remembered what Matt Clayton had said to him and Tiki. “It’s all about the team . . .”

  Today, he would try to follow that advice. He’d gotten nowhere the day before, trying to impress the coaches with great plays. He’d fumbled trying to gain an extra yard, and he’d blown coverages twice on defense when he’d tried for spectacular interceptions.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Tiki asked him.

  “Uh-huh,” said Ronde. “It’s all about the team.”

  “That’s right. Okay, let’s go get ’em!”

  They ran out onto the field together, and lined up for drills. Ronde somehow felt more focused than the day before. Was it because of what Matt had said? Or was it the way his mom had stood tall the night before?

  Whatever it was, today Ronde kept things simple. He didn’t make any mistakes, and he took advantage of every chance he got to make a play.

  In that day’s scrimmage, he and Tiki were on the same side, with Tiki running the ball on offense, and Ronde playing linebacker on defense. Tiki scored a sixty-yard touchdown, breaking three tackles on the way to the end zone. And Ronde had a sack, a forced fumble, and an interception.

  “Man, that was like our dream game!” Tiki said as they trotted off the field at the end of practice. “You know, like the ones we play on the street, except we didn’t have Chris to do the sportscast!”

  “Yeah,” Ronde said with a nervous laugh. “Too bad it wasn’t a real game.”

  Still, he felt good about their chances. If those coaches had been watching, and he was sure they had, he and Tiki were definitely going to be starters.

  Unless, of course, Coach Spangler had meant what he said the other day—that most of the new kids would be second- and third-stringers this season.

  “You guys rocked!” Jason said, clapping them both on the back in the locker room.

  “You too, man,” Tiki told him.

  It was true, Ronde thought as he high-fived his friend. Jason had quarterbacked their scrimmage team, throwing two awesome bombs and scrambling for a big first down.

  On the way home, when their teammates were out of earshot, Jason said, “I figure you guys’ll be at least second-string. But I’ll bet I get to start at quarterback, at least until Matt Clayton’s leg heals up.”

  “What? You don’t think we’ll get to start?” Tiki asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Jason said. “Coach Spangler said—”

  “I know what he said,” Tiki said, “but did you see us today?”

  “Sure I did. You guys were awesome.”

  “Yeah,” said Tiki, still annoyed. “You got that right.”

  “Well, never mind,” said Ronde. “Monday morning, we’ll all know for sure.”

  • • •

  When Ronde and Tiki got home, no one was there. Mrs. Barber had left them a note on the kitchen table: Mrs. P. and I are out knocking on doors. Dinner is in the fridge. Love, Mom.

  The boys ate their dinner—warmed-over chicken with rice and beans—and did their homework. Ronde and Tiki closed their last book at exactly the same time.

  “What time is it?” Ronde asked.

  “Eight thirty.”

  “Is that all? Hey, Tiki, what do you say we go visit our fort?”

  “You serious?” Tiki said. “We haven’t been there since we were little kids.”

  “You mean like last year?”

  “What are you talking about, man? It was at least two years ago.”

  “So all I’m saying is, how about we go there right now?”

  “Aw, man, it’s dark out. How are we even going to find it?”

  “Ever hear of a flashlight?”

  Their old fort was really just a bunch of broken brick walls from a building that had burned down a long time ago. It sat in an empty lot, where tall grass hid the fort from the street.

  It was a secret place—their secret place. Paco had been there a few times, of course, and Adam, too, once or twice—but mostly, it was Fort Barber.

  The stars were out tonight in full force. And from the fort, you could even see the big neon star on top of Mill Mountain, overlooking the whole city and shining in red, white, and blue. Crickets chirped loudly, covering the muffled sound of their voices.

  “Tiki?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How do you think it’s going?”

  “What?”

  “You know—everything. School, like that.”

  “Well, we didn’t get beat up. That was good.”

  “True.”

  “On the other hand, I wish we had our classes together, like before.”

  “Me too,” said Ronde. “I used to raise my hand more then.”

  “Me too.”

  “You think Mom was right, separating us like that?”

  Tiki shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we do have to get used to it sooner or later anyway.”

  “It didn’t have to be now,” Ronde said. “I mean, don’t you sometimes wish she didn’t get all those ideas in her head?”

  “What, you mean like about that factory?”

  “Well, yeah. What if she gets up at the next meeting and everybody boos her?”

  “Or yells at her.”

  “Yeah. Or even throws stuff at her!”

  “If Mrs. Pendergast starts yelling again, they might!”

  The boys had scared themselves into silence. Finally, Tiki broke it. “So what about you?”

  “Huh?”

  “You never said whether you like the school.”

  “I don’t know. There’s not a lot of kids I know, and that’s hard. I mean, I used to know everybody.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You like the school?”

  “I guess it depends.”

  “On what?”

  Tiki was silent for a moment. “You think we’ll get to start?” he asked.

  “I wish I knew,” Ronde said. “It would be great if we’re starters.”

  “Yeah, but what if we aren’t?”

  Ronde knew what Tiki was trying to say—life at school would be great if they were starters on the team. But second-stringers didn’t play all that much. And third-stringers barely got in the games at all. If that happened, life at school would be a nightmare!

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” Ronde asked.

  “We could be third-stri
ngers, and never get into the games except in garbage time.”

  “I can think of something even worse than that,” Ronde said.

  “What could be worse than that?”

  “If one of us is a starter, and the other is a third-stringer.”

  The crickets chirped loudly in the silence between the boys.

  “Well, we’ll know soon,” Ronde finally said.

  “Yeah. Monday morning.”

  “Yeah.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ALL SHOOK UP

  * * *

  MONDAY MORNING DAWNED SUNNY AND BRIGHT. Tiki took that as a good sign. As he and Ronde rode the bus to school, both boys were quiet. But Tiki was confident they would both be starters—and he could tell Ronde felt the same way.

  And why shouldn’t they be starters? Didn’t they leave it all on the field at both practices? Oh, sure, they’d made plenty of mistakes. But at the last practice, they’d both made a big impression, no question about it.

  There was the usual big knot of kids standing in front of the list. Most of them looked to be seventh graders—they would look up, find their name, and for most of them, their shoulders would sink as they found out they were going to be backups.

  Tiki led the way, threading through the crowd toward the front, with Ronde right behind him. “You ready?” he asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Ronde gulped.

  Tiki looked up. There was his name, near the top and right below Ronde’s. He looked at the center column: It said, “Running back.”

  Cool!

  Then he continued across to the right-hand column:

  “Third team.”

  Third team?

  “What?” he cried. “That’s no fair!”

  “Man!” Ronde said, shaking his head. Next to his name, it said, “Secondary—third team.”

  After all they had shown the coaches, this was the reward they got? “I can’t believe this!” Tiki blurted out.

  “Maybe it’s a mistake,” Ronde said hopefully. But somehow inside he didn’t think so.

  “Yeah, right,” Tiki said, suddenly feeling a lump rising in his throat. “It’s a mistake, all right. Look at all the others—almost everybody’s third-string.”

  Ronde looked all the way down the list. “Hey, check this out—Paco’s a starter!”

  “Huh?”

  Tiki looked to where his twin was pointing. Sure enough, next to Paco’s name, it said, “Offensive tackle—first team.”

  “Now you tell me, what about us?” Ronde asked. “Is that fair? Nothing against Paco, but you know we’re better than he is at football. We’ve been playing together for years.”

  “I know,” Tiki moaned.

  “And look here—Adam’s a starter too!”

  “What!” Tiki was stunned. Adam was a great hitter in baseball, but everyone in their group of friends knew football wasn’t his game. Yet there he was, listed as first-string kicker.

  “This is so wrong.” Ronde said angrily. “Man, these coaches are blind!”

  “You got that right,” Tiki said.

  “Oh, so now we’re blind?” came a man’s deep voice behind them.

  Tiki spun around, and saw that Mr. Pellugi, who was his Health Ed teacher, and also one of the Eagles’ defensive coaches, was standing right there.

  “Uh, no! I didn’t say that,” Ronde stammered. “I mean, yeah, I said it, but I didn’t mean it—I mean . . . I meant . . .”

  “Look,” said Coach Pellugi, “it wasn’t easy making all these decisions. Mostly, Coach Spangler just puts all the seventh graders on the third team, unless we’re thin at a particular position. You’ll get your chance. Football is a game of patience.”

  Tiki could see where a kid might make the first team at kicker and offensive line, because not that many kids had tried out for them. Or maybe the first-teamers at those positions had all graduated, opening spots for new kids.

  “Just hang in there, boys,” said Coach Pellugi. “You’ll get your chance to play.” He walked into the office, leaving the group of disappointed boys standing there.

  That was when Jason showed up. “Yo, dudes!” he said, a big smile on his face. “Did you make the starting team?”

  Tiki and Ronde looked down at the floor and shook their heads.

  “Aw, man . . . Well, don’t take it too hard. Not everybody can be a starter right off the bat.”

  He looked up at the list, checking for his own name. Then he found it. “Third team,” he cried. “No way! No possible way!”

  Jason’s usually pale face got as red as a chili pepper. He slammed his book bag on the ground. The zipper popped open, and all his books scattered across the floor, but he didn’t even bother to pick them up.

  “This stinks so bad!” he said, pounding on the list with his fist. “Man, I am not riding the bench for the whole season, just so I can watch some other kid play quarterback just because he’s an eighth grader!”

  “But Jason,” Tiki began, “you just said we should be patient—”

  “Yeah, well, I take it all back,” said Jason. “That’s for losers. Not for me.”

  “Jason, what else can we do but be patient?” Ronde asked. “That’s just the way it is.”

  “Not for me it isn’t,” said Jason. “I was the best quarterback at both practices. And don’t give me that ‘Matt Clayton’ baloney. He is still in a cast. I should have been the starter, hands down, and you know it!”

  “Hey, man, chill out,” Tiki advised him. “Quit making a scene, all right?”

  Teachers were popping their heads out of the office to see what all the commotion was about.

  “You chill out,” Jason said, kicking his book bag one more time before bending down to gather up his stuff. “I’m outta here.”

  “Huh?”

  “I quit this stupid team,” Jason said, stuffing his books and papers back into his bag any which way. “I’m gonna try out for some other team, where I’ll actually get to play. If you two idiots want to put up with this garbage, go ahead. That’s your problem.”

  He stormed off down the hall, just as the early bell rang, warning everyone that it was time to head to first period classes.

  “Whoa,” Ronde said. “I’ve never seen Jason so ticked off.”

  “No lie,” Tiki agreed. “Hey, man—you think he’s right?”

  Ronde shook his head. “I know how he feels, though. I mean, it’s embarrassing—Adam and Paco make the starting team, and we’re all riding the bench?”

  “I hear you.” Tiki didn’t know how he was ever going to face Adam and Paco. Even worse, he couldn’t bear the idea of showing up for games just to sit on the bench the whole game.

  Today was already the worst day of his life, Tiki thought. And it was only just beginning!

  His football dreams were ruined. If he and Ronde couldn’t even make second team, let alone first, how were they ever going to make it all the way to the NFL?

  “Maybe Jason’s right,” Ronde said. “Maybe we should quit the team. I mean, if we tried out for soccer, or lacrosse or something, we could probably start right away.”

  “Soccer? Lacrosse?”

  “Yeah, man, they’re pretty cool—and not that many kids try out.”

  Tiki shook his head. “Ronde, when we sit around thinking about what we want to do when we grow up, we don’t think about playing pro soccer.”

  Ronde sighed. “No, I guess not.”

  “Does pro lacrosse even exist? I don’t think so.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Maybe we should just chill out. Remember what Coach Pellugi said—and Matt Clayton, too. Let’s just be patient, and hope we’ll get our chance sooner or later.”

  Ronde shook his head. “Whatever,” he said. “But it had better be sooner, not later.”

  The boys walked off in silence. What more was there to say?

  • • •

  It was another bad day at school, naturally. It had been a terrible, terrible week, and today was
the worst day of all—Friday.

  Usually, Friday was the best day of the school week, with the whole weekend to look forward to. But not this week. Tomorrow was Saturday—and the first game of the Eagles’ season.

  In class, concentrating was impossible. Only in Mr. Wheeler’s class, where he feared being hit by flying paper balls, was Tiki able to buckle down and pay attention. And when the school day was finally over, Tiki could tell by the look on his brother’s face that things hadn’t gone too well for him either.

  At practice Tiki and Ronde went through all their paces, but their hearts weren’t in it, and their weak effort showed. The coaches were constantly urging them to do more, to try harder. But nothing seemed to help.

  Once they got home, the boys were in no rush to do their homework. They didn’t even want to go out and play, because that meant playing football—and even thinking about football was painful. It only reminded them of their failure to make the starting team!

  Tiki played with his pencil and protractor. He drew doodles. Homework time seemed longer than football practice time. The doorbell rang, but neither Tiki nor Ronde cared to answer it.

  Their mom did. “Paco’s here to see you,” she said.

  “Tell him we’re sick,” Ronde said.

  “What?”

  “We don’t feel good, Mom,” Tiki said. It was the truth, too. He felt like absolute crud. He just didn’t feel like talking about why.

  “Don’t feel well, you mean,” Mrs. Barber corrected him. “Here, let me feel your foreheads.”

  But the boys didn’t have fevers. They were sick to their stomachs, and had a bitter taste in their mouths—a taste even Mom’s chicken soup couldn’t cure.

  “Well, I’ve got to go out after dinner,” said Mrs. Barber.

  “Where are you going, Ma?” Tiki asked. “Out with Mrs. Pendergast again?”

  “Not tonight,” she said. “Tonight’s Back to School Night.”

  “Already?” Ronde gasped.

  “But it’s only the second week!” Tiki said in a scared voice.

  “Sooner the better,” Mrs. Barber said. “I’m anxious to see what Hidden Valley Junior High is all about.”

  What she didn’t say—but both Tiki and Ronde knew—was that she also wanted to ask their teachers how the twins were doing in class.