Jump Shot (3 page)

“So? Just tell her that,” said Ronde.

“Oh, right, and have the whole school think I'm welching on a promise. Great. Just great.”

“I guess you'll have to tell her the truth and hope she understands.”

Ronde knew the minute he said it how ridiculous that sounded. Laura Sommer did not care about Tiki's hoop dreams. The paper was her life, and Tiki had made her a solemn promise.

“I've gotta get to work,” Ronde said. “Mr. Landzberg will be waiting for me.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Tiki. “Wish me luck.”

“With Laura?”

“No, man. Here. With the team.”

“Sure, but why? What's up?”

“Tell you later. But I'll say one thing, bro—it's not like
our
team.”

•  •  •

Ronde thought about Tiki's words as he headed to his first day on the job at Landzberg's Department Store
warehouse—which was behind the store itself, on a side street. A bridge connected the two buildings on the fourth floor, so that goods could be brought across, no matter what the weather.

Mr. Landzberg was waiting for him, carrying a clipboard. “Ah, there you are, Ronde. Glad to see you. Nice haircut, by the way.”

Ronde ran a hand over his newly shorn head. He'd gotten a buzz cut right after school. Neither Laura Sommer nor anyone else would be mistaking him for Tiki anytime soon.

They shook hands, and Mr. Landzberg put a hand on his shoulder. “I've actually got an errand for you to run, before I even show you around the place.”

“Okay,” said Ronde, nodding. “What do I do?”

“Run over to this address—it's only a few blocks away—and see what's happened to our other stockboy, Ralph Ramirez. He hasn't shown up for four days in a row, and the home phone's been disconnected.” Mr. Landzberg frowned. “I'm a little worried about him. Ralphie's never been irresponsible. I want to know what's going on. So run over there and let me know what's up, okay?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Landzberg,” Ronde said, taking the paper with the address and setting off at a run.

“Hey!” Mr. Landzberg called after him, “I didn't mean
run
, run, I meant, just don't go slow. The last
thing I need is a stockboy with a twisted ankle.”

Ronde grinned, reduced his gait to a trot, and soon found himself at the appointed place. It was an older building, and although there were doorbells in the lobby, the front door wasn't locked. So when there was no answer, Ronde let himself through and walked up the stairs to apartment 2B, where he knocked on the door.

At first, no one answered. “Hello?” Ronde called out loudly. “I'm here from Mr. Landzberg!”

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a tall, skinny kid of about sixteen stared back at him. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought it might be the landlord.”

“Huh?”

“We haven't paid the rent, and we're afraid if we answer the door, it will be trouble.”

“Oh. So, you're . . .” He checked the paper Mr. Landzberg had given him. “Ralph?”

“That's me,” the kid said without smiling.

“Ronde. Ronde Barber,” he said, offering his hand. Ralph just stared at it.

“Um, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Ronde wondered.

Ralph blinked, then shook his head. “What?”

“If you need rent, how come you aren't coming to work?”

The boy sighed, and gestured over his shoulder. “My
ma is sick in bed,” he said sadly. “I've gotta take care of her. We've got nobody else . . . except my aunt, and she can come only once a week.”

“Is your mom . . . is she gonna be all right?” Ronde asked in a near whisper.

The boy swallowed hard. “She says so . . . but I don't know. She doesn't tell me everything.”

“I'm . . . I'm sorry,” Ronde said. “I . . . I hope she feels better. I'll tell Mr. Landzberg what you said.”

“Thanks,” said Ralph, and closed the door.

As he walked, not ran, back to the store, Ronde thought how lucky he and Tiki were. Sure, their mom had to work long hours—but at least she was
healthy
. Whatever problems he and Tiki had, other people had harder things to deal with, by far.

An hour ago, Ronde had been in agony over losing his one-on-one battle with Tiki and having to go to work, while Tiki got to be on the b-ball team. Now, Ronde was thrilled to be able to work and help his family. It was the least he could do to show his gratitude for all the blessings life had given him.

At that same moment, Tiki was busy at practice, where things were not going so well. Even before Ronde had come to the gym to warn him that Laura Sommer was after him to honor his commitment, Tiki had been having a hard time.

While everything here was new to him, it was already midseason for the rest of the team. And Coach Jackson was nothing like Sam Wheeler, who ran the football team as if he were the general of an elite strike force.

Jackson was much more laid-back. He let the players go through their paces with just a hint of direction here and there. That left practice in the hands of Sugar Morton, the team's shooting guard, and therefore, its on-court general.

Sugar was not laid-back in the least. His personality was dominating, and his huge natural talent for
the game helped give him even more authority over his teammates.

Today, that authority was being put to use mostly to help Rory Mathis, the substitute shooting guard who was now going to be starting, go through the team's set plays with the rest of the starting five.

Tiki knew this drill. It was hard for a kid who was used to subbing to suddenly have all the focus put on him, and Rory was no exception. He knew, as they all did, that Brian Reynolds, who had been shipped off to military school, was a better shooter. That was why, until now, Rory had sat on the bench most of the time.

Tiki, the new sub, was not the priority at the moment. He was left pretty much on his own, to watch, and learn the plays.

Coach Wheeler would have given him a book full of diagrams to study, but Coach Jackson was not like that. It had never occurred to him that once he'd taught the team the plays, he might need to show them to new players in the middle of the season.

Tiki figured out the five-man weave pretty quickly, and managed to draw a few appreciative comments when he got his turn to be a part of it.

The other plays were much harder, though. One, called Brooklyn, was designed to clear out the right side of the frontcourt so Sugar could go one-on-one with his defender. Tiki caught on to that one pretty fast too.

As for the rest, he soon found his head buzzing. He wished he'd brought a pad and paper with him to diagram the plays for himself, but he'd never thought the coach wouldn't have handouts to give him!

Afterward, in the locker room, when Coach Jackson clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him for joining the team, Tiki didn't mention his confusion. He was embarrassed to admit that he hadn't really caught on to most of it.

Besides, from what he and Ronde had witnessed the other day at the game, the team didn't use most of those plays much anyway. More often than not, it was just Sugar Morton playing his brand of amazing street b-ball, against whoever and whatever the other team threw at him. So Tiki figured it wouldn't really matter much if he didn't know the plays when game time rolled around.

•  •  •

As it happened, his first game was the very next day. He'd had no time to think about what to tell Laura Sommer, but he figured he could avoid her until he'd at least had some game action under his belt. Twice that day, he'd had to duck into stairwells to keep her from spotting him in the halls. As soon as the final bell rang, Tiki raced down the stairs to the locker room, his book bag tucked under his arm like a football.

This was a familiar drill to him. This felt right. This
was the feeling he'd missed all these weeks since the football season had ended—the feeling of his blood coursing through him, his heart pumping, his breathing deep and fast.

He burst into the locker room, where he expected to find the rest of the team as excited as he was. Instead, he saw a group of boys sitting casually on benches, or combing their hair in the mirror, or slowly getting into uniform, expressionless.

“Wuzzup!” he greeted them, but the most he got in reply were a few “hey”s. Everyone seemed to be feeling down, and it took Tiki only a moment to realize why.

Brian Reynolds, their normal starting shooting guard, was gone for the season. Their record was a game under .500. And their coach wasn't even there!

“Mr. Jackson's got a teachers' meeting,” explained Bobby Dominic, the team's starting center. Bobby was about six feet tall, maybe even taller. He was skinny as a stick, and his arms looked like branches waving in the breeze.

Not much muscle on him,
Tiki couldn't help noticing. In spite of his height, Bobby had gotten pushed around by the other team's center and forwards during the game he and Ronde had watched.

Would today be any different?

“Time to get out there,” Sugar said, and they all rose as one. It was, Tiki observed, as if the coach himself
had spoken. They filed into the gym, slowly, like prisoners going to the gallows.

Tiki had to shake his head. He couldn't wait to get into his first game on the basketball team! It was hard for him to believe that he was the only one who cared that much.

Coach Jackson arrived on the scene right before tip-off. “Okay,” he told the players as they gathered around him. “Pulaski's a tough team, and we're in transition. But let's at least try to put up a good fight. You never know what might happen. Give it your best, guys!”

Tiki couldn't believe it! Coach Wheeler would have exploded in rage. How could the coach not even
try
to inspire his team? Did he think they'd already lost, or what?

Tiki started the game on the bench, but right from the opening tip-off, he was itching to get out there and be a part of the action.

At first, things went well. Sugar hit a couple of easy shots, and Bobby blocked a shot by the Wildcats' power forward.

But then, things started to turn sour. Rory Mathis missed his first two jumpers, and committed a couple of quick fouls. Only four minutes in, and Tiki found himself coming into the game!

He looked over to the stands, trying to spot Ronde. There was his twin, jumping up and down and screaming
something encouraging. Tiki smiled and waved.

“Okay, Mr. Football, let's see what you've got,” Sugar said, slapping him on the back.

Mr. Football?
Tiki thought it was a strange thing to call him—and he wasn't very happy about it, either. He was trying to think of himself as a basketball player right now, not a football star.

Tiki inbounded the ball to Sugar, who dribbled downcourt. By now, the Wildcat defenders had figured out that they needed to double-team the Eagles' star. Cornered, Sugar dished off to Tiki at the head of the foul circle.

Tiki felt overcome with excitement—he was free, and had the ball! Squaring himself to the basket, he launched a long shot.
SWISH!!
A three-pointer!

“Yeah!” yelled Bobby Dominic, high-fiving Tiki on their way back upcourt. Sugar was clapping his hands too. Tiki gave them a little wave and a nod. He felt fantastic.

Now the Wildcats came slowly upcourt, launching a set play. Tiki's man was shorter than he was, but he had a quick set of moves, and an even quicker shot. Before he could stop the kid, he dribbled around Tiki and put up an easy ten-footer for two points.

“Man!” Tiki said, shaking his head. He knew he had to do better on defense against such a quick opponent.

Again, Sugar Morton found himself surrounded by
Pulaski defenders. Again, he found Tiki at the point. Again, Tiki launched a long bomb, and again—
SWISH!

“Wow!” Tiki heard Coach Jackson yelling. “We've got us a player! Yeah, baby!”

Tiki felt great—until his man faked him out, pulled back, and nailed a three-pointer of his own.

Well, so far, we're even, just about,
thought Tiki. But he knew in his heart that his first two shots had been lucky. Ronde hadn't been that far wrong when he'd said they weren't great shooters.

This time down the court, Sugar tried forcing his way through the defense, and was stripped of the ball. The fast break happened so quickly that Tiki was caught off guard. His man put in an easy layup, and Pulaski took the lead for the first time in the game.

“
Defense,
yo!” Sugar yelled at Tiki as they headed back downcourt. “You've gotta play both ends of the court!”

Tiki nodded, showing he understood. But he could feel the blood rush to his face. He wanted to answer Sugar back. In fact, he would have liked to answer with his fists. But he knew he couldn't. Fists never solved anything, and this was not the time to get into a war of words with the leader of the team.

And there was no doubt Sugar was their leader. The other kids looked to
him
, not their coach, for direction. The problem was, as Tiki well knew, it's impossible to play and coach at the same time.

Sugar was being swarmed by the Wildcats now. They could see how determined he was to dominate the game, and they were just as determined to shut him down, and make the rest of the Eagles do the scoring.

Sugar dished off to Tiki, who turned and launched another shot—but this time, his defender was ready. For a short kid, he sure could jump, thought Tiki after seeing his shot batted away.

“Don't shoot if you're not free!” Sugar yelled at him as they retreated back upcourt. “Who do you think you are, Michael Jordan?”

Tiki had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from saying something he knew he'd regret. But he was determined to show Sugar that he was a good player who deserved respect.