Jump Shot (10 page)

“You really think I can do this?”

“What do you mean?” Ronde said. Then he realized. “Oh. The game.”

Tiki nodded.

“You already finished your column, right? And I'm sure Mr. Landzberg will give you the day off if you tell him it's an emergency.”

Tiki furrowed his brow. “It
is
an emergency, kind of . . . isn't it?”

“
Sure
it is!” Ronde replied eagerly. “If you don't come through for us, this team will never see .500!”

Tiki frowned. “I don't know,” he said. “I guess I can get permission all right. . . . But what if I wind up messing up? I mean, I've barely had any time with the team—just a couple weeks really, and that was over a month ago. What if I'm rusty? What if my shot's gone south?”

“Come on, bro,” Ronde said, grinning. “You know you've still got that mojo working. You
know
you
want
this!”

“Sure I want it,” Tiki said. “But really . . . what if my shot isn't there? I haven't been to a single practice
lately. You're part of the team now, but I haven't even had time to shoot in the driveway!”

“That doesn't matter,” Ronde told him. “Remember, you're coming off the bench for both me and Rory. If you're doing better at point guard, you'll play more there. If you're the hot hand at shooting, that's where you'll be. And bro—think of it—you and me, out on the basketball court—together! It's meant to be, right?”

Tiki grinned from ear to ear. “You got that right,” he said, and they exchanged their private handshake—twice!

“Besides,” Ronde said, growing more serious, “it's not your soft-touch jump shot we need most. And it's not how we play point guard—the whole team knows neither of us has ever played there.”

“Then what is it? Our defense?” Tiki asked.

“It's that we both know how to
lead a team
,” Ronde said. “These guys wouldn't follow Sugar, because he never tried to lead them—he went off on his own without them! We're going to lead our team into battle, Tiki, and they're going to follow us, because they know we
care
about them.”

•  •  •

“What are you doing here?” Sugar's breath came out in a cloud as he stood in the doorway of his family's house on Exeter Street. “Jeez, it's cold out there,” he said. “Come on in and let me close the door.”

Ronde entered the house and looked around. He'd never been to Sugar's before, even though it was only five blocks from Amherst Street, where the Barbers lived. The place was quiet—a grandfather clock ticked slowly in the hallway, and the carpeted floors muffled any sounds—but Ronde didn't think anyone else was home.

“What are you doing here, Ronde?” Sugar wanted to know. “It's freezing cold out there.”

It was dark, too, though Sugar hadn't mentioned that part. Ronde had biked over here, and nearly frozen his ears off, even though he had on a stocking cap.

“I came to deliver the paper,” Ronde said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a rolled-up, rubber-banded paper, and tossed it to Sugar.

Sugar let it drop on the floor in front of him. “I'm not reading any more of your brother's stupid columns,” he said. “Thanks for stopping by.” He moved to open the door and let Ronde out, but Ronde's hand stopped him.

“I've got something to say first,” he told Sugar.

“Who says I want to hear it?”

“
I
do. You going to punch me in the eye too?”

Sugar's jaw tensed, but he kept his temper under control. “He deserved it.”

“Nuh-uh,” Ronde insisted. “Nobody deserves to get punched. That's why people invented words, yo.”

Sugar frowned, but said nothing.

“And speaking of words, I've got a few choice ones for you. I've been meaning to say this ever since I got on the team, but—well, I don't know if you've noticed, but your attitude has infected the whole team.”

“What?!”

“That's right. The way you get your game on is hurting everybody
else's
game.”

Sugar snorted. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

Ronde ignored the insult. “The thing I want to know is, what's really eating you?”

“Eating me? Nothing. I'm fine,” Sugar insisted.

“Dude, trust me, you are not fine. You are the furthest thing from fine. I mean, maybe you can't see it the way other people can, but you're angry
all the time
.”

“I am not!” Sugar said angrily. Then he realized that his tone was making him a liar. “I mean, I guess I am sometimes. Who isn't?”

“You're angry not just
some
of the time,” Ronde said frankly. “I think you're sad, too. And maybe a little bitter?”

Sugar laughed bitterly. “Ya think?” he said. “Like I haven't got anything to be bitter about. . . .”

“Go on,” Ronde said. “Let's hear it.”

“Why should I tell
you
about it?”

“Because,” said Ronde, “it's destroying the team, dude.”

“Ha!” said Sugar. “That's a good one. I'm the best player on that team by far!”

“True, but the way you've been acting is making you the
only
player on the team. Ever notice how much the rest of the guys wind up just standing around on the court?”

“It's hard
not
to notice,” Sugar had to admit. “Those guys don't really care whether we win or lose.”

“You're wrong, man,” Ronde said. “They may not care
now
, but they
used
to care. And they
could
care
again
—if they felt they were part of the team.”

“I don't get you,” said Sugar. “What are you asking me to do? I play my heart out every single game!”

“I know you do,” said Ronde. “That's why we've still got a chance to have a winning season! But now you've gone and gotten yourself suspended from school, and we've got to play our next game without you. And why? Because you let your angry, sad, bitter feelings get the better of you. Now Dave Bassin has a black eye, and we've got to win without our best player
and
his substitute! What good did you think you were doing the team by punching him out like that?”

“He said something about my parents,” Sugar said, staring into space, angered by even the memory of it.

“Okay, he shouldn't have done that,” Ronde agreed. “But you didn't have to deal with it the way you did.”

Sugar sighed. “I guess you're right about that. I
kind of lost control. I couldn't help myself.”

“Let me tell you something,” said Ronde. “I was on the football team for three whole years. I know you get angry sometimes when things get tough. But you've got to think about the whole team, not just yourself.”

“You just don't understand,” Sugar said, sighing. “My life this year has been . . .” He stopped talking, and Ronde could see that he was fighting back tears.

“Hey, man,” Ronde said, his tone softening, “I know it's been tough on you.”

“You have no idea,” said Sugar. “My whole family's breaking apart.” He sniffed once, then again. The silence in the house was deafening.

“My dad works all the time,” he finally went on. “My mom? She didn't care enough about me and my sister to stick around and work it out. Nobody cares about us kids . . . so I decided I had to look after myself. Nobody is going to help
me
out, and nobody is going to feel sorry for me—so
I've
got to make sure I get what I need.”

“Wow,” said Ronde. “You should hear yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“You sound so . . . so
selfish
.”

“
Me?
What about my mom? My dad? You think they're not being selfish?” He laughed again, with that same bitter note. “You don't know a thing about it. I'm alone here, on my own. My sister's only ten, and she's crying all the time.” Ronde looked around, and Sugar
explained, “She's sleeping over at a friend's house.”

“Listen,” Ronde said, “I hear you, and I
do
understand. Maybe you think my life and Tiki's is a bed of roses.”

“It isn't?”

“No! Did you know my mom has raised us all by herself, all these years? She works all the time, too, just like your dad—except she works
two
jobs, not one, and I'll bet she doesn't make half as much money as he does.” Ronde could tell that just by looking at the expensive furniture in Sugar's house.

“My brother and I have to work at an after-school job, and give all the money we make to our mom so she can pay the bills,” he went on. “It's just me and Tiki, eating dinner alone half the time. But you don't see
us
complaining. We take what life gives us, and we make the best of it!”

Sugar was silent, taking it all in.

“We know our mom loves us, with all her heart. So we do our best to help her, however we can—washing dishes, mowing the lawn, contributing money from our job—whatever it takes. We're a
family
, and we stick
together
. You and your sister and your dad, you need to do that too, now that your mom's not around.”

Ronde winced, wishing he hadn't said that. “I mean, like you told me, at least he's there for you.”

“When he's here,” Sugar said.

“Same with my mom. Sometimes parents have to work, so their kids will have food and clothes and a roof over their heads.”

“At least your mom loves you,” Sugar said. “My mom couldn't care less about us.”

“I'm sure that's not true,” Ronde said.

“She left us, just like that. No good-bye, no nothing. Not even a note. If she loved us, she would have said something.”

“Maybe she had her reasons, that had nothing to do with you,” Ronde guessed. “Anyway, if she doesn't love you, why was she there waiting for you in the parking lot that night?”

Sugar shifted uncomfortably on the stair where he'd sat down. He stared at the floor.

“She was crying, did you notice? Did you even give her a chance to explain?”

When Sugar didn't answer, Ronde kept talking. “You know, sometimes it's even worse for kids if their parents are always fighting and yelling and screaming, and they just can't get along. Sometimes it's best if people separate.”

“It's not best for me and my sister!” Sugar said, his jaw tight. “Nobody's thinking about what's best for us.”

“Well, hey,” said Ronde, not backing down, “then you, better than anyone, should know to think about the rest of your teammates. We're kind of like a family
too, right? How do you think the guys feel when you dump all over them?”

Ronde opened the door to leave, and let Sugar think about what he'd said. Then he pointed to the paper lying at the foot of the stairs. “Oh, by the way. You really should read Tiki's advice column this week. You might learn something.”

Tiki had suffered through his classes all day. He couldn't keep his mind from wandering. Fantasies of glory on the court alternated with nightmares where he blew the game for the team. Twice, teachers had called his name in vain, causing his classmates to laugh when he finally realized what was going on.

The only good parts of the day came when he ran into his teammates in the hall or at lunch. Every one of them seemed excited that he was going to be playing with them that afternoon. He was glad to be welcomed—he just hoped he wouldn't let them down in their hour of need.

Today's game was a real challenge. With two games left to play in their season, the Eagles were 7–8. Both their remaining opponents had winning records. Today's game was against the North Side Rockets, who were in
first place in the league, with a 13–2 record. What made it even harder was that the Eagles were the visiting team. At home, the Rockets were undefeated, at 7–0.

The rest of the team didn't seem all that worried about it, though. On the bus, and in the visitors' locker room, everyone seemed full of energy and good spirits. Tiki wondered why, until Ronde clued him in. “They're into playing, because they know that today, it's up to them, not Sugar.”

Tiki understood then, and smiled. He only hoped Sugar had read his column. Ronde didn't seem to think he would read it, but what else could either of them do to get through to the team's troubled superstar?

For now, there was only one mission, though, and Sugar had nothing to do with it. That mission was to win, and Tiki meant to accomplish it, no matter what.

This part was familiar to him. The football Eagles had had their backs to the wall many times, and they'd always found a way to win when it mattered most.

Coach Jackson laid out the game plan. “Ronde will start at point, with Rory at shooting guard. Budnick and Jarvis start at forward, and Bobby at center. Tiki will be first man off the bench, subbing for both Rory and Ronde. Got it?”

They all clapped their hands, and Tiki could see the light of determination in all their eyes. This, he thought, was going to be interesting. . . .

The first thing he noticed when he entered the gym was the size of the Rockets. They were much bigger than the Eagles—taller, wider, thicker, and heavier. They had bulging muscles and an air of confidence that was impossible to miss. Probably because, Tiki thought, the last time these two teams had met, the Rockets had handled the Eagles easily, 72–57.

They would also have noticed that Sugar Morton was missing. Well, thought Tiki, if ever a team was ripe for a fall, it was the Rockets. The way he figured it, the Eagles had them right where they wanted them. The Rockets were in for a nasty surprise.