Mr. Rashad clears his throat softly. “Do you know how difficult the odds are, in terms of getting a college scholarship, much less making it to the pros?”
“Yes, of course we do,” my mom answers. “That doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. Coach Benny thinks he has the talent. He told me himself.”
Principal Marshak takes her glasses off and looks at me. “I think it might be time to hear from Carter about all this.”
I sit up a bit straighter. “I . . . I guess it’s true that I started thinking this year that basketball was more than just something to do for fun. I mean, I realized I was good—I guess really good, some people said—and that it might be a way to get someplace in life. My mom didn’t, like, pressure me or anything, but I knew how much it meant to her. And Coach Benny, I mean, I feel so bad about what happened to him, but when he said that thing about doing whatever it took to pass the test, and thinking about how if I didn’t, then basketball would be taken away from me, and how it would mess everything up, I just . . . I just panicked. And as soon as I did it, I felt horrible and I came back into the room to tell Ms. Vallone everything, but Alfie Jenks was already there and I was too late. And I said it before but I’m really, really sorry.”
Ms. Vallone leans forward in her chair. “Carter, I thought you knew this. Alfie never told me what happened. She did see what you had done, and she was upset about it, but she was confused, and a little scared, and I don’t think she wanted you to get in trouble. So she didn’t say anything. You need to believe me on this.”
I stare at her. “Really?”
She smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “Really.”
I feel something leave my body.
Maybe it’s anger.
“Oh, wow,” I say.
Mr. Rashad says, “Carter, you have learned some valuable lessons here, which is the most important thing going forward. And I want you, and your parents, to know that I am always available to discuss any of these kinds of issues, should they arise in the future.”
“Well!” says Principal Marshak, putting her glasses back on. “There is some good to come out of this situation. Carter, you’ve spoken eloquently and remorsefully here today, and Ms. Vallone has informed me that you have improved your math grade significantly. You have one game left in your middle school career, and I would like for you to be able to participate. Therefore, I am pleased to tell you that you may rejoin the basketball team, effective immediately.”
I had a feeling this might happen, but now that it has, I’m not sure I believe it. “Wait, what? Immediately, like, right now? I can practice with the team, and I can play against North?”
The Principal smiles. “You can, but more to the point, you may.”
“Thank you. That is . . . that is so awesome.” I’m not sure what else to say, so I just say again, “Thank you. Thank you so much!”
Principal Marshak puts her hand on my shoulder.
“Go out there Friday night,” she says, “and make your parents proud.”
AUSTIN
Either my mom or dad always drops me off at AAU practice fifteen minutes early, so I can get some extra shooting in.
Not my choice.
I’m working on my three from the corner as teammates come trickling in. With Darian, Philip, and KJ, I do that thing where we nod but don’t really look at each other. When Alonzo walks in, he walks right by me.
And then I see Carter Haswell walk in.
The other guys stop shooting and run over to him. Hugs, high fives, excited chatter. Part of it is because they’re happy to see him, since he hasn’t been to practice in a few months. The other part is that they really like the guy, he’s a great basketball player, and his dad didn’t sponsor the team just so his son could be on it.
I walk over to join the reunion. Most of the guys ignore me, but Carter sticks out his hand. “How’s it going?”
“Welcome back,” I say. “If you’re here, then that must mean you’re back on the school team, too.”
He grins. “Yup. Just in time to whomp you guys on Friday.”
“Ha, we’ll see.”
He starts lacing up his sneakers, and I sit down next to him. “By the way,” I say. “I realized something. We used to play against each other at the Tompkins Park courts that one summer, you remember?”
“You mean like, four, five years ago? Free Shoot?”
“Yep.”
“Oh man, yeah, I totally remember! You were tall then!”
“I guess so.”
“Sorry dude, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s all good. What happened to those glasses you used to wear?”
Carter laughs. “Oh man, those were nasty! When my mom got insurance at her job, I was finally able to get contacts.”
“Cool.” I start spinning the ball on my finger. “Good to have you back.”
“Good to be back. See you out there.”
We’re a good team without Carter, but we’re a different team with him. There’s something about the way he sees the court, and how he knows things are going to happen before they actually happen, that all the “AGAIN!”s in the world can’t teach you.
The kid just has that thing.
We’re running a scrimmage, and I’m bringing the ball upcourt, with Alonzo draped all over me. I look over at Coach Cash, who signals a play in from the sideline: a pick-and-roll on the left elbow. KJ, who’s being guarded by Carter, comes out to set the pick. Alonzo gets blocked by the pick, but Carter decides to stay on KJ instead of coming out to get me, because KJ is the bigger offensive threat. I see a lane to the hoop open up, and I decide to take it. Alonzo is really fast, though, and as I go up for the short jumper he swats the ball out of my hands and out of bounds.
TWEEEEET!
Coach Cash blows his whistle. “Foul! Alonzo, I’ve told you this before, but you can’t put your hands on him from behind. That’ll get called every time.”
Alonzo waves his hand in disgust. “That is bull, man, I didn’t even touch him,” he mumbles to himself.
But Coach Cash has long ears. “Sorry? What was that, Alonzo?”
Alonzo shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I thought I heard you say that was bull.”
“Nah, man. You heard wrong.”
Uh-oh. The rest of us glance at each other. You’re not supposed to talk to the coach like that.
Coach Cash’s ears get red. “Excuse me? EXCUSE ME?” He gets up in Alonzo’s face. “Get off my court! NOW!”
As Alonzo shuffles slowly off the court, Coach Cash blows his whistle. “Tyson!” he yells to one of the kids on the sidelines. “Get in here for Alonzo!” Coach throws me the ball. “Two free throws.”
I step up to the line, start to go into my foul shot routine. Everyone is lined up, waiting for me to shoot. I bounce the ball, take a few breaths.
But I don’t shoot.
Instead, I look at Coach Cash and say, “He didn’t foul me.”
Coach blinks a few times. “I’m sorry?”
“He didn’t foul me. That was a clean block. He didn’t touch me.”
The rest of the guys start to stir.
“I saw it differently,” Coach says.
“You always see it differently when it comes to me,” I say. I’m into it now, and it feels good. Like a weight pressing down on my chest has been lifted. “You protect me, Coach, and you’re extra nice to me, and start me over players who are better than me. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and you’ve made me a much better basketball player, but I’m not dumb. I know my dad is helping pay for the team. And that’s fine, I can’t help that, but I don’t want special treatment anymore. My teammates don’t like it, and I don’t blame them. Alonzo is a better basketball player than me, and he should be starting. And he didn’t foul me, so I’m not going to take these foul shots.”
And before Coach can say anything, I walk over to Alonzo and hand him the ball. “Go in for me,” I tell hi
m. “I’m tired.”
Alonzo stares at me for a second. He puts his hand up, and we high-five.
But he doesn’t move. “I go in when the Coach tells me to go in,” he whispers.
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
Coach blows his whistle. “Alonzo! Get in here!”
Alonzo sprints in, and Coach walks over to me.
“I’ll deal with you later,” he says.
But I’m pretty sure he won’t.
For the rest of practice, I can tell something’s different. My teammates look me in the eye. They talk to me more on the court. They don’t stop the conversations they’re having when I walk up to them. The hand-slaps have a little extra sting to them.
I think I know what it is.
It’s respect.
As I’m packing up my stuff after practice, I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to say to my dad, when Carter comes up to me. “That was cool, what you did,” he says. “I know the guys appreciated it.”
“Should have done it a long time ago,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “Well yeah, maybe, but it’s never easy standing up to the man in charge. Takes guts. Even if he is your personal coach.”
We laugh, and then a crazy idea hits me. Or maybe, not so crazy. “Hey you want to come over to my house tomorrow? I got a great full court.”
Carter looks at me like I have two heads. “Full court? You mean, like, two hoops? Are you serious?”
My ears get red with embarrassment as I suddenly realize that was a stupid thing to say. “Uh, well, you know my dad . . . he played college ball and is pretty wound up about basketball.”
“You want me to come over tomorrow? Like, three days before we full-on try to whup each other?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “It’s, like, I’m sick of taking all this so seriously.”
Carter thinks for a second. “Jeez . . . yeah, I guess sure, that’d be cool.”
I see my dad walk in to pick me up. He and Coach Cash have a conversation, with Coach doing most of the talking. Then my dad starts heading my way.
“I’ll text you the address,” I tell Carter. “Gotta go deal with my dad.”
“Yeah, I get that. See you tomorrow.”
I go up to my dad before he comes over, because I don’t really want Carter or anyone else to hear what he’s about to say.
“Hey, Dad. You talk to Coach Cash?”
“I did.” But he doesn’t look mad. “He said you stood up for a teammate. Good for you.” I reach down for my gym bag, but my dad picks it up for me. “Let’s go home,” he says. “We’re having salmon.”
I glance over at Coach Cash. He doesn’t smile, but he nods. I nod back.
I guess respect is contagious.
ALFIE
I’m sitting in my usual spot at lunch—last table on the right, by myself—when I feel a shadow standing over me.
I look up and see Janeece Renfro.
“You never came and sat with us the other day,” she says.
“I didn’t think you meant it.”
“Callie might not have meant it, but I did.”
I take a bite of my sandwich. “Okay. Tomorrow, maybe.”
But she doesn’t walk away. Instead, she says, “Can I sit here?”
Before I can answer, she sits.
We eat in silence for a few minutes, then she says, “Are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at anyone,” I tell her.
“Oh.”
“I’m mad at everyone.”
She stops chewing. “I . . . well, I . . .”
I wait, and when it becomes clear she’s stuck, I say, “Are you trying to say that you’re sorry, and that you believe me, and that you wish this whole thing never happened?”
Janeece smiles in relief. “Yes.”
We keep eating, and after another minute, Carter Haswell walks up.
“Hey,” he says.
I give him an extremely fake smile. “Wow, this is seriously my lucky day! The two basketball superstars. To what do I owe the honor?”
He laughs awkwardly. “Can I join you guys?”
I shrug. “If you promise to buy me an ice cream sandwich.”
He laughs and sits. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Hey I heard you’re back on the team,” Janeece says to Carter, with a smile that’s not at all fake. “Congratulations.”
He blushes. “Yeah, thanks.”
I look at them looking at each other, and it occurs to me that these two might actually really like each other. And then, for some reason, I realize that if the two of them ever got married, their kids would be seriously incredible basketball players.
But Carter didn’t sit with us to flirt with Janeece. He’s here to talk to me.
“You know, that day . . . in Ms. V’s class . . .”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“No, I want to.” He swallows, and it occurs to me he might be nervous. Carter Haswell, basketball legend, is nervous talking to me! I make a mental note to remember this moment forever. “When I cheated, I messed up,” he says. “I messed up bad. And I felt so guilty, so mad at myself, that when I came back into the room and saw you there—I guess, like, it was easier to pretend all my horrible feelings about myself were just horrible feelings about you. And then today, Ms. V told me that you didn’t say anything, and you weren’t going to say anything, that actually you were about to leave when I came in to talk to her. And as soon as she said it, I realized, I kind of knew that all along, but I just didn’t want to admit it to myself, because if I couldn’t stay mad at you, then I would have to be mad at myself. It was really lame, and I’m sorry.”
“You know, Carter,” I say, “everyone in this school thinks I told on you and got you kicked off the team. I’ve had to eat lunch by myself for a long time because of you. Did you ever think about that?”
Carter doesn’t answer. He just hangs his head.
I watch him, and I realize this could go one of two ways. I could be as immature and unforgiving to him as he had been to me.
Or I could be better than that.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I tell him. “I’ll forgive you if you come on my radio show today.”
He lifts his head. “Are you serious?”
“Totally.”
He grins. “You got it.”
I turn to Janeece. “You have to come on the show, too.”
Her eyes twinkle. “With Carter?” she says.
“Yup.”
“Let me think about it,” she says, even though we all know she doesn’t have to think about it one bit.
WWMS
WALTHORNE SOUTH RADIO
ALFIE:
Hey everyone, this is Alfie Jenks and welcome to Talking Sports. Joining me today are basketball superstars Janeece Renfro and Carter Haswell. It’s the last week of the regular season, and both the girls and boys teams have their traditional season-ending games against Walthorne North. The girls team is having a great year, in first place, while the boys team will be fighting it out with North for the last playoff spot. But the good news is that Carter, who has not been with the team for most of the season, will be back for this final game. Janeece, let’s start with you. Congratulations on such a great year.
JANEECE:
Thanks, Alfie. It’s really been a dream season. All the girls have pulled together and it’s so fun to go out there and compete as a team.
ALFIE:
What do you think your secret is?
JANEECE:
I think we believe in each other and just love the game. I mean, we take it really seriously, don’t get me wrong, but we’re also loose, we have fun together.
ALFIE:
Winning is always fun, right?
JANEECE:
That’s for sure.
ALFIE:
What about you, Carter? How does it feel to be coming back after such a long layoff?
CARTER:
It feels great. I’m so
excited. But can I . . . can I just say something to your listeners?
ALFIE:
Sure.
CARTER:
I—I want to apologize to everyone in the school for what I did. I broke the trust of my teacher and everyone around me, and it was a terrible mistake. But, uh, also, I want to apologize to Alfie Jenks. Because she did nothing wrong. She didn’t tell on me, or tattletale, or whatever you want to call it. I thought she did, and I wanted to believe she did, but I think part of me knew she didn’t, I just wouldn’t admit it to myself. So I just want to say to everyone, and especially Alfie, I’m sorry.
JANEECE:
Whoa. That was intense. Respect, Carter.
CARTER:
Don’t respect me. Respect Alfie.
ALFIE:
Thank you for saying that. It means a lot.
CARTER:
It’s the least I could do.
JANEECE:
Carter, are you coming to our game?
CARTER:
Uh, um . . .
JANEECE:
Are you serious? We’re 16–3, dude! We’re leading the league!
CARTER:
I know that, I was just, you know, so excited about coming back that I haven’t thought that much about anything else, you know—
JANEECE:
It’s Thursday night. The night before your game.
CARTER:
Uh . . . yeah, of course, I’ll be there. I’ll bring all the guys, too.
JANEECE:
Sweet!
ALFIE:
Okay, great, well, thank you both for coming on, and thank you Carter for saying what you said. I have to go because it’s time for Social Studies. Be sure to tune in to both games on WWMS Radio, they’re going to be great! This has been Alfie Jenks, Talking Sports!
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