Rivals

by Tommy Greenwald

  “Hello, Mr. Haswell. Do you mind telling me what is going on with you and math?” He always likes to get straight to the point.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you do.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Principal Marshak came to see me this morning. Apparently she has been advised by your math instructor that you’re in danger of failing math. And if you fail math, you will automatically be disqualified from participating in extracurricular activities.”

  We both know what that means. The only extracurricular activity I participate in is basketball.

  “I understand, Coach,” I say.

  “Do you?” He leans into me. “I thought we talked about this. Didn’t I get through to you? Nothing is more important than your schoolwork! And if you fail math, it will mean more than just missing the next game against Ackton. It will mean missing the whole season. It will mean jeopardizing your development as a player and your ability to get ready for high school ball and beyond.”

  “I get it, I swear.” But the truth is, I don’t get it. I don’t get math at all, I never really tried to get it, I never asked for help, and I definitely never admitted to myself that not getting it could ruin everything.

  “Are you set for this test?” Coach Benny asks.

  “I hope so,” I say, which isn’t a lie, technically.

  “Good.” He scrunches up his eyebrows, which makes him look extra scary. “Because you have to figure out a way to pass this thing. Do whatever it takes. Just pass.”

  He finally takes his hand off my shoulder and walks away. Eddy, Lucas, and Sham are munching away, but I’m pretty sure they heard the whole thing.

  “I’m in trouble,” I say. No one looks up from their food at first. Then Eddy says, “So, what are you going to do?”

  I shake my head. “Pass the test, somehow.”

  “You been studying?” Lucas asks.

  “I don’t know. A little, I guess. We’ll find out.”

  “Hold up,” Sham says. “Coach told you to do whatever it takes, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I’ve been trying to figure out what he meant by that.”

  Eddy looks confused. “What do you mean, ‘what he meant by that’?”

  “I mean, like, did he seriously mean whatever it takes? Because, you know, ‘whatever it takes’ could mean a lot of things.”

  “Yeah,” Eddy says. “It could mean a lot of things.”

  I take a bite of my sandwich, with a bunch of thoughts and questions racing through my head. If I get kicked off the school team, will I get kicked off the AAU team, too? Will it really affect my development as a high school player? Will it ruin my chances at getting a college scholarship? And what will my mom do if she can’t watch me play basketball?

  I look back at Eddy and ask him, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? And are you cool with it?”

  “Yeah,” he says, “I guess so.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He doesn’t look up from his meatball hero. “I’m sure. Now can we stop talking about it?”

  And then we finish our lunches without another word.

  ALFIE

  There’s a different kind of quiet in a classroom when kids are about to take a test. It’s like this low hum of nervousness. People bite their nails or bounce up and down on their feet, and no one is really looking at each other. It’s super tense.

  And that feeling goes double when it’s a math test.

  As we all stumble in, our teacher, Ms. Vallone, stands in front of her desk. “Okay everyone, let’s take our seats and get straight to it. The quicker we get started, the quicker this long national nightmare known as the fractions/ratios/percentages test will be over.”

  She’s trying to be funny, but no one laughs. It’s not a great time.

  Ms. Vallone hands out the tests, and as I grab mine, I notice something a little strange: Carter Haswell, who is sitting two rows in front of me, slides his desk just a tiny bit closer to the kid sitting next to him, Eddy Dixon. They whisper something to each other, but I can’t hear what it is.

  Then Ms. Vallone says, “You may begin,” and I do.

  CARTER

  I remember the last time I was really nervous.

  It was last year, third game of the season, and I got fouled with two seconds left and our team behind by one point. I had to make both free throws for us to win, and the whole gym was completely silent. I missed the first shot, but somehow managed to make the second, and we won in overtime. I can still feel my knees knocking together, and I can still see my hands shaking. It was bad.

  But it wasn’t half as bad as right now, as I slide my desk slightly closer to Eddy’s. I’m trying to do it as softly as possible, but the scratching and scraping is loud enough to wake up dead people. At least, to me it is. But when I glance around the classroom, it doesn’t look like anybody noticed a thing. Ms. Vallone hands out the tests. I glance down at mine, and I feel shame. Shame because I’ve never really admitted to myself that numbers are like a foreign language to me that I can’t understand. Shame because I was too embarrassed to ask for help from the teacher. Shame because I didn’t tell my parents about my math problems, because I convinced myself that they had too much other stuff to deal with, even though I knew that was just an excuse and the real reason was that I was just too lazy to deal with it.

  But mostly, I feel shame because of what I’m about to do.

  I make sure no one is looking, then I glance over to my right as Eddy turns his paper slightly in my direction, just enough so I can see it.

  And then I write down the first answer.

  ALFIE

  At first, I don’t think anything of it. Everyone looks around during tests. People’s minds wander, or they’re trying to think, or it’s just something to do as they sit there and squirm their way through something they definitely don’t want to be doing.

  But then I see it again. Carter scans the room, then slowly turns his head to the right. His eyes drop down to Eddy’s test. He leans in, just an inch or two, for a better look. Then he goes back to his own test and writes.

  I watch Carter do this four times in a row. Then he doesn’t do it for a while. Then, about ten minutes later, I see him do it again, three more times. I look around the room to see if anyone else saw what I saw, but it seems like no one did.

  Just me.

  I’m so freaked out that I almost forget to finish my test.

  CARTER

  “Okay! Pencils down! Calculators off! We’re done, people!”

  As Ms. Vallone walks around to collect the tests, I keep my eyes glued to my desk. A few seconds later, I feel her hovering over me.

  “Mr. Haswell, everything go okay? You never came for extra help like I asked you to.”

  I don’t look up. “I think so. I studied a lot.”

  “That’s good to hear.” She picks up my test and moves on to Eddy. “All good, Mr. Dixon? Can I expect another A?”

  “I hope so,” Eddy mumbles.

  “What’s wrong with you boys today?” asks Ms. Vallone. “You’re usually two of my loudest customers!”

  I shrug. “Just tired after taking the test, Ms. V.”

  She smiles. “Well, I guess in its own way, math is just as much of a workout as basketball, wouldn’t you say?”

  I try to look at her, but the best I can do is look past her.

  “That’s for sure,” I say.

  ALFIE

  I gather up my books, with Mr. Rashad’s words ringing in my ears.

  The truth is the only thing that matters.

  I see Janeece, and we walk out of the classroom together. I don’t want to talk about the test, so I ask about her upcoming game against Roseville.

  “They played us tough last year,” Janeece says, “but I think we got this. You going to broadcast the game?”

  “You bet,” I tell her. “Looking forward to it.”

  We keep talking about basketball as we walk down the hall, but I’m only paying
half-attention.

  The truth is the only thing that matters.

  And then I think about another thing Mr. Rashad said.

  Can we do anything about it?

  I stop suddenly. “Oh shoot, you know something, Janeece? I think I forgot my book. You go ahead without me, I’ll see you at gym.”

  And before she can say anything, I turn around and head back toward Ms. Vallone’s room.

  CARTER

  I can immediately feel something weird between me and Eddy.

  As we walk down the hall, we don’t look at each other. Sham and Lucas are making jokes, keeping things loose, but Eddy and I don’t laugh. It’s like some invisible wall went up and we’re on opposite sides of it.

  “Let’s meet up before practice for some quick MasterBlaster,” Sham says. He’s talking about this new video game that everyone loves. “Bet we can get, like, fifteen minutes in.”

  “I’m down,” says Lucas. “My turn to kick butt.”

  “Not going to happen, my friend,” says Sham.

  Lucas smacks him in the arm. “We’ll see.”

  They turn to Eddy and me. “Boys? You in?”

  Eddy shrugs. “I don’t know. I might have some stuff I have to do.”

  “Before practice?” Sham asks.

  My eyes flare. “He said he didn’t know! Leave the guy alone.”

  “Whoa,” Lucas says. “No need to get testy. What about you, Carter, you in?”

  “I doubt it,” I say. “I hate that freakin’ game anyway.”

  Sham stops walking and stares at me. “Dude, what’s up with you? You got this test behind you, you’re gonna pass, Coach Benny’s gonna be happy, we’re gonna keep winning, it’s all good.”

  But I don’t answer him. Instead I veer off toward the bathroom.

  It’s all good.

  Is it though?

  ALFIE

  Ms. Vallone is sitting at her desk when I walk in. I think she might already be grading the tests we just took.

  She looks up, sees me, and smiles. “Alfie, hi! Did you forget something?”

  “No, I . . . I just wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Sure thing, what’s up?”

  “Well, if, um . . . if you saw something that you knew was wrong, but if you said something about it then someone you know and like would get in really big trouble, what would you do?”

  “Well, I guess it depends on what they did wrong. Can you tell me what you’re referring to?”

  I’m standing in front of her desk, and I suddenly feel very alone. “I think I might have seen something.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “Someone . . . I mean, I’m not sure . . . but I thought maybe . . .” I stop talking, because now that I’m really doing it, I’m suddenly filled with doubt. Maybe I actually didn’t see what I thought I saw, and after what happened with Clay, I can’t make that mistake again. Or, maybe it did really happen, but for a good reason, like Carter couldn’t study because he had to take care of a sick parent or something.

  Or maybe I just can’t tell on another student.

  “Alfie?” Ms. Vallone is staring at me.

  For a second, I think about saying what happened without using any names, but then I realize that would probably just make things more confusing.

  “Are you trying to tell me something, Alfie?” Ms. Vallone asks. “Are you saying someone did something wrong? With the test?”

  I’m frozen, because I’m not able to say what I think I saw, but I’m not able to lie either. She must see it in my face, because her smile disappears. “I see,” she says. “Well, this is a very complicated situation. I don’t want to put you in a position where you jeopardize a friendship. At the same time, if you saw what I think you saw, it’s a very serious matter, and you would be doing the right thing by telling me. I can assure you we would keep it totally confidential.”

  I realize I’ve been biting my nails, because I have to stop biting them to answer her. “I’m uh, I’m actually not sure, so, uh, I think maybe I shouldn’t have come talk to you.”

  “I know you’re nervous,” Ms. Vallone says, in her gentlest voice. “That’s understandable.”

  “I’m really sorry. I need to go.” I turn and start to leave, just as the door to the classroom opens. I jump back like I’ve just seen a ghost.

  But it’s not a ghost.

  It’s Carter Haswell.

  CARTER

  I see Alfie standing there, in front of the teacher, and I freeze.

  What could they be talking about?

  Ms. Vallone stands up. “Well, this is certainly a busy afternoon,” she says. “Normally students run from my classroom as fast as humanly possible, but today, it seems like you kids just can’t stay away.” She smiles at me, but I can tell there’s other stuff going on in her mind. “What can I do for you, Carter?”

  “I can come back later if you’re in the middle of something,” I say quickly.

  “Okay,” Ms. Vallone says.

  I start to leave, but halfway through the door, I turn back around and stop right in front of the teacher’s desk.

  “I did something bad,” I say. I don’t even care if Alfie is there to hear me. I just need to get it out, like a poison. “I did something bad today, and I’m really, really sorry.”

  Ms. Vallone’s face deflates, like a balloon. She glances over at Alfie, who is standing there, frozen. Then Alfie’s face suddenly crumbles, and she starts crying and runs out of the room. Ms. Vallone says, “Alfie, wait!” but Alfie doesn’t wait. She flies out the door and slams it behind her.

  The sound echoes in the silence.

  Finally, Ms. Vallone takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asks, quietly.

  But I have a question. “What was Alfie doing here?”

  Ms. Vallone shakes her head. “Let’s talk about what you came to see me about.”

  “No, seriously, why was she here?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Ms. Vallone sinks slowly back into her chair, and I suddenly realize exactly what’s going on.

  She already knows I cheated on the test.

  Because Alfie Jenks told her.

  1:48 pm

  4 People

  SHAM

  CARTER YOU THERE?

  CARTER?

  DUDES I THINK HE LEFT

  LUCAS

  WHADDYA MEAN

  SHAM

  HE’S GONE

  LEFT SCHOOL

  EDDY

  WHO TOLD YOU THAT

  SHAM

  AMIR SAW HIM AT HIS LOCKER GETTING HIS STUFF AND WHEN HE ASKED CARTER WHAT WAS GOING ON HE SAID HIS MOM WAS PICKING HIM UP

  EDDY

  I’M GONNA CALL HIM

  LUCAS

  OH MAN

  SHAM

  IS HE ANSWERING?

  EDDY

  NAH

  SHAM

  I’M GONNA TEXT JANEECE MAYBE SHE KNOWS WHAT’S GOING ON

  EDDY

  WHY WOULD SHE KNOW

  SHAM

  I SAW THEM TALKING IN THE HALL NEAR THE OFFICE

  EDDY

  CARTER CAN YOU TEXT US BACK

  LUCAS

  CARTER YOU GOT TO TELL US WHAT HAPPENED

  SHAM

  JANEECE JUST TEXTED

  SAID CARTER SEEMED UPSET BUT HE WOULDN’T SAY WHY

  BUT YEAH HE TOLD HER HE WAS LEAVING SCHOOL

  AND WASN’T SURE WHEN HE’D BE BACK

  LUCAS

  OH MAN

  SHAM

  THIS IS BAD

  EDDY

  I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU GUYS FREAKING OUT

  HEY IT’S ME

  LUCAS

  CARTER!

  SHAM

  DUDE!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING???

  EDDY

  CARTER WHAT’S GOING ON?

  I COULDN’T DEAL WITH IT

  I COULDN’T DEAL WITH BEING A CHEATER

  I COULDN’T H
ANDLE IT

  SO I WENT BACK INTO MS. V’S CLASS TO TELL HER

  WHAT I DID

  BUT ALFIE JENKS WAS ALREADY THERE

  SHE MUST HAVE SEEN ME COPYING EDDY’S TEST

  COZ SHE WAS TALKING TO MS. V ABOUT

  SOMETHING AND

  I WAS PRETTY SURE IT WAS ABOUT ME

  COZ ALFIE LOOKED UPSET AND MS. V LOOKED LIKE

  SHE KNEW

  SO I ENDED UP TELLING HER EVERYTHING

  WHAT COACH BENNY SAID ABOUT HOW I COULDN’T

  PLAY IF I DIDN’T PASS

  AND I TOLD HER ABOUT MY DAD LOSING HIS JOB

  AND MY MOM WORKING DOUBLE SHIFTS

  AND HOW I NEEDED TO BE ABLE TO PLAY BALL AND

  BE THE BEST

  SO I COULD GET A COLLEGE SCHOLARSHIP AND

  ALL THAT

  BUT DON’T WORRY EDDY

  I TOLD HER YOU HAD NO IDEA I WAS LOOKING AT

  YOUR PAPER

  I SWEAR

  AND MS. V LOOKED LIKE SHE WAS GOING TO CRY

  AND I THOUGHT SHE WAS GOING TO BE COOL

  ABOUT IT,

  LIKE WE COULD FIX IT SOMEHOW

  BUT SHE SAID WE HAD TO GO DOWN TO THE OFFICE

  AND THEN I TOLD PRINCIPAL MARSHAK

  AND SHE SAID THEY WOULD NEED SOME TIME TO

  FIGURE IT OUT,

  BUT THAT IN THE MEANTIME I HAD TO GO HOME

  AND I WOULD PROBABLY BE SUSPENDED

  FROM SCHOOL

  AND FROM THE TEAM TOO

  AND MY MOM HAD TO LEAVE WORK TO PICK ME UP

  SHE WAS CRYING

  SHAM

  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

  DUDE I AM SSSSOOOO SORRY

  LUCAS

  HUGS MAN

  EDDY

  I’M REALLY REALLY SORRY CARTER

  ALSO WOW, OUR TEAM IS GOING TO SUCK BIG TIME NOW

  NAH

  YOU GUYS WILL BE OK

  IT IS WHAT IT IS

  MY FAULT

  I’LL GET THROUGH IT

  I MEAN, IT SUCKS

  BUT YOU KNOW WHAT

  I FEEL BETTER ANYWAY

  LUCAS

  I’LL TELL YOU WHAT, THAT GIRL ALFIE IS GONNA HAVE SOME PROBLEMS

  MS. V WOULDN’T TELL ME WHAT THEY WERE

  TALKING ABOUT,

  BUT I MEAN, COME ON,

  WHAT ELSE WAS ALFIE DOING THERE,

  AND THEN SHE FREAKS OUT AND

  RUNS OUT OF THE ROOM WHEN I GET THERE

  SHAM

  OH YOU KNOW IT, SHE’S LIKE SUCH A LOSER

  WORSE

  A SNITCH

  EDDY