Jump Shot (2 page)

Ronde swallowed hard. His heart was suddenly racing with excitement, but he tried not to show just how eager he was.

“You know, I'm sure we'd be interested, Mr. J. We're always playing one-on-one in the driveway, you know, and we can handle the ball pretty well. Although neither of us is a great
shooter
,” he warned, not wanting the coach to get too hopeful. After all, Mr. Jackson was asking them to fill in for a
shooting
guard, wasn't he?

“Well, I understand why you both never came out for tryouts,” Jackson said. “I know Coach Wheeler didn't want either of you getting hurt doing any other sports.”

Ronde nodded. It was true. Football had always been the most important thing to him and Tiki. It was true that they often played hoops in their driveway, although not “always,” as he'd told Mr. Jackson. They'd played some pick-up baseball too, in summer, and run
races against each other for fun, just like any two athletic brothers on planet Earth.

But joining the basketball team was another step up, for sure. Why shouldn't they try their hand at other sports, now that they didn't have to worry about football until high school? In fact, Ronde made a mental note, right then and there, to try out for the baseball team in early March.

“Don't misunderstand me,” Mr. Jackson said, holding up a hand. “I've only got
one
spot on the roster. I'll leave it up to you and Tiki which of you wants to give it a try.”

Ronde froze, with his jaw wide open. He'd been about to say something else, but now, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was.

Only
one
of them was going to be on the basketball team?

WHICH ONE??

“You told him WHAT??” Tiki's eyes opened so wide it felt like his eyeballs were going to pop out. “I can
too
shoot!”

Ronde cocked his head to one side. “I don't know. . . .” he said.

“
What
?
I can shoot rings around you, Ronde!”

“Cannot.”

“Can too!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Come on, I'll show you.” Tiki grabbed his brother by the shirt and started dragging him out to the driveway. “One-on-one. Come on, I'm gonna show you who can shoot and who can't.”

Ronde resisted, digging his rubber-soled sneakers into the floorboards. Tiki managed to drag him a foot or two, but that was it.

“What, are you scared?” Tiki taunted him. “You know I can outshoot you any day.”

“I didn't say you couldn't!” Ronde protested. “I only said neither one of us was a great shooter.”

“Don't put me in the same boat with you,” Tiki said angrily. “You shoot a basketball like it's a brick!”

“Okay,” said Ronde, removing Tiki's hand from his shirt. “Now you've gone and done it. I'm no worse a shooter than you. Plus I play better defense.”

“Okay, that's it,” said Tiki. “Are you gonna play me one-on-one right now, or are you gonna chicken out?”

“Chicken out?”
Ronde repeated, his own eyes opening wide.
“Me?”

“Who said ‘chicken'?” called their mom, who was just coming in the front door. “How did you know I was making chicken tonight? Are you psychic?”

She let out a hearty laugh and crossed the room, headed for the kitchen with her two heavy shopping bags in each hand and her purse slung over her shoulder.

It was Thursday, one of the few days of the week when Mrs. Barber had to go to only one of her jobs. She put in over sixty hours a week in total, so it was a treat for them all to have dinner as a family. Ronde and Tiki ran to take her heavy bags and help her carry them.

“Mom,” said Tiki, “Mr. Landzberg says we can have twenty hours at his warehouse to split between us any way we want.”

Mrs. Barber beamed. “That's wonderful!” she said, putting an arm around each of their shoulders.
We're almost as tall as she is now,
Tiki noticed. He saw her notice it too, and her eyes glistened with feeling. “My two big boys,” she said. “I hope you'll like working for him. Are you sure your schoolwork won't suffer?”

“Don't worry, Mom,” said Ronde. “We can handle it!”

“And not only that!” Tiki blurted out. “I'm gonna be on the basketball team!”

“You
what
?” Mrs. Barber said, taken aback.

“He's wrong, Ma,” Ronde said. “
I'm
the one who's gonna be on the team. Tiki's too busy with his
advice column
.” He shot Tiki a look, and Tiki shot it right back at him.

“What in the world is going on here?” she said, stopping them both from going at each other. “Which one of you is going to explain it to me?”

“I will!” they both said at once.

“One at a time,” said their mom.

Tiki got his word in edgewise first. “There's only one spot on the team, so Ronde will take the job at the store.”

“What about that advice column?” Mrs. Barber asked, looking straight at Tiki.

“I'll take care of it,” Tiki said, his teeth clenched together. “I can handle whatever.”

“I'm not so sure of that,” Mrs. Barber said. “See that
you do—both of you. I don't want to see either of your grades go down, no matter what happens. That's more important to me—and to you—than any amount of money you make. Understand?”

They both nodded.
She's leaving it up to us to solve the problem,
Tiki understood.

“How much time till dinner's ready?” Ronde asked.

“Half an hour,” she replied, and might have been about to say something else, but neither boy hung around long enough to find out what it was.

Ronde fished the ball out of the corner bin in the garage, while Tiki dug the pump out of a pile of sports equipment in the corner. “First one to eleven baskets wins,” Ronde said as he flipped a coin. “Dang. Tails. You win.”

Having won the toss, Tiki started out with the ball as they started a high-stakes game of one-on-one. He tried to fake his brother out, but three years of playing pass defense on the football team had made Ronde great at sticking with his man. No matter what Tiki tried, Ronde stuck to him like glue. Finally, in frustration, Tiki threw the ball up—and Ronde leaped high in the air to block it!

Tiki somehow managed to retrieve the ball before it went onto the front lawn and out of bounds. “Man, I'll say one thing—you sure can play defense,” he told Ronde.

“Is that a complaint?” Ronde said, smiling.

This time, Tiki wasted no time in shooting. Before Ronde knew what was happening, the ball was in the air and—swish!—through the hoop. “One–nothing, mine!” he crowed.

“What'd I say?” Tiki taunted him. “
Who
can't shoot?”

“Zip it!” Ronde said, stealing the ball from him just as Tiki was grabbing the rebound. “Ha! Take that!”

Now it was Tiki's turn on defense. Unlike Ronde, he was not used to covering other people. In football, it was always the other team's job to defend
him
, not the other way around.

Now, with Ronde dribbling from one hand to the other, faking with his head and feet, Tiki was forced into guessing which way he was headed—and he guessed
wrong
. The result was an easy layup for his twin, tying the score, 1–1. “That's what I'm talkin' about!” Ronde bellowed.

Tiki touched the ball and handed it back to Ronde at the top of the key. This time Tiki told himself not to commit too quickly—to wait for Ronde to make his
real
move first.

That sounded good in theory, but in reality, it meant his twin got a full step on him, and was able to get to the hoop. Luckily for Tiki, Ronde missed the easy layup.

“Man!” Ronde groaned as Tiki retrieved the rebound. “I
told
you we couldn't shoot!”

“Speak for yourself,” Tiki shot back, launching another quick shot that sailed right through the hoop.
Their net had fallen apart long ago, or Tiki's shot would have made that sweet
swish
ing sound.

Ronde tossed Tiki the ball back. This time, Tiki tried to dribble past Ronde on his left side. Ronde, fooled by the move, gave him a little shove. “Foul!” Tiki cried.

“What are you, the referee?” Ronde said. “That was a clean takeaway!”

“You pushed me!”

“Hey, it's a contact sport,” Ronde offered.

“My ball,” Tiki insisted, and Ronde, busted, gave in, handing Tiki the ball.

Tiki wasted no time trying to dribble around Ronde, who was clearly good at defense, even if he did foul frequently. Since there were no free throws in one-on-one, there was no advantage to Tiki drawing further punishment. Instead, he started chucking up shots from all over the court, then trying to outhustle Ronde for any rebounds.

This strategy succeeded in gaining Tiki a 6–3 lead before he hit a dry spell shooting. Ronde doggedly dribbled his way back to 6–5 before their mom forced them to take a dinner break.

They wolfed down their food, washed and dried their dishes, then went straight back out to the driveway to finish their duel.

It was dark out now, and cold, and there were one or two icy patches where yesterday's freezing rain had
coated the edge of the driveway. But each of the twins was determined to prove that
he
was the one who deserved the spot on the basketball team.

All of their natural athletic ability was going to waste, now that football season was over, and they both felt the deep need to compete, whatever sport it might be.

It took another fifteen minutes before Tiki finally got his tenth point. Now he had the ball, a 10–7 lead, and a chance to finish Ronde off.

Desperate to put an end to this match before they both froze to death, Tiki put on his best move of the night. Ronde stumbled backward, allowing Tiki a clear path to the basket.

But Tiki had a point to prove. He pulled up and launched a long shot, sinking it off the backboard. Then he turned to Ronde and said, “There.
Now
who says I can't shoot?”

Ronde got up, shook his head, and smiled. “You whupped me, bro. True is true. I guess you
can
shoot some, after all.”

“Ha!”

“So . . . I'll take the job at Mr. Landzberg's, and you go on and join the team.” Ronde offered his hand, and the twins did their elaborate secret handshake to seal the deal.

“And remember, you promised way back when to help me write that advice column,” Tiki reminded him.

Ronde winced, but he knew he was busted. “I
did
say that, didn't I? What was I thinking?”

“I couldn't tell you,” Tiki said, grinning. “But a promise is a promise.”

“Man, this is not my night,” Ronde said with a sigh as they put the ball away and shut the garage door.

“Hey, if it doesn't work out for me, you can take my spot,” Tiki offered.

“Don't jinx yourself,” said Ronde, clapping him on the back and laughing. “But if you do mess up, you
know
I'll be there, waiting to clean it up for you.”

“Yoo-hoo! Tiiii-kiii!”

Ronde didn't turn around at first. But when the shrill cooing noise was repeated, more urgently this time, he realized someone had mistaken him for his twin (had to have, because Tiki was at basketball practice).

Ronde sighed wistfully and turned around to correct the mistaken owner of the voice. From down the empty hallway, he saw Laura Sommer leaning out the doorway of the
Hidden Valley Gazette
's office.

She crooked her finger at him and called, “Have you been avoiding me or something?”

“Me? N-no!” Ronde stammered, walking back down the hall toward her. She remained in the doorway, half in the room and half out, making him cover all the distance.

“Football season's been over for three weeks,” Laura said, finally swinging the rest of herself out into the
hallway and closing the door behind her. Her voice lowered, so the conversation was just between them. “It's time for you to keep your promise and start writing your fabulous advice column again.”

“Listen, I'm—”

“No excuses,” Laura said firmly. “I
know
you won't want to break your word . . . and have
everyone
in the whole school
know
it.”

“No, you don't understand; I'm not—”

“Are you going to stand there and make excuses, Tiki Barber?”

“I'm RONDE!” he blurted out. “I'm not . . . not Tiki. But I'll
tell
him for you, for sure. No problem.”

“Oh, come on, Tiki. Don't pull that stuff with me. As if I didn't know you from your brother.”

“Uh . . .”

“I've said what I have to say. I've got a pile of letters for you from last fall. Shall we start with those?”

“I'm
Ronde
. I'm not him. I mean, Tiki. I mean . . .”

“I'll go get them. Stay right where you are—
Tiki
.”

Ronde didn't wait for her to come back with the letters. He figured that, since he wasn't Tiki, it wasn't
him
she'd told to stay put—so he was free to go.
Sort
of.

I'd better go warn Tiki,
he told himself as he scurried down the stairs, headed for the gym.
And I'm gonna get my hair cut short, too—so people don't get confused between us.

•  •  •

“What?!”

Ronde could tell Tiki was annoyed. No, not just annoyed . . .
panicked.

“I figured she'd come after me in the
spring
, not
now
!” Tiki said, putting both hands on his head. “I've got too much going on right now!”