Ola Shakes It Up (19 page)

“Then what?”

“It's you,” I spoke up finally. “Did you quit the basketball team?”

Khatib dropped his eyes for a second. “I knew you would figure it out. I should have carried my gym bag out with me.”

“Yeah. You gave yourself away big-time.” I moved up the bed to sit next to him, stretching my legs out beside his. There was no way I was going to let him know that I had followed him to his dance class. “So how come you quit the team?”

Khatib shrugged. “It just wasn't the same here.”

“Nothing's the same here,” I agreed. “But I thought you loved basketball.”

“I used to love it—before I had to play it so much.” Khatib nudged me with his shoulder. “Back in the old neighborhood, everybody thought I should play, just 'cause I was tall and I was good at it. And I didn't mind playing when it was just around the neighborhood and it was just for fun. Then when high school started, everybody was saying, ‘Hey, Khatib — you trying out for the team?“ It was like I had to do it.”

“You didn't like playing on the team?” I was surprised.

“It was okay sometimes. The best part was winning all those games and having everybody look up to me,” Khatib admitted. “It kinda went to my head a little.”

I bit my lip to keep myself from saying something flip. Khatib and I were having a serious talk for once, and I didn't want to destroy the mood and get kicked out of his room.

“But those drills, the practice every day and Saturday … I could skip all that,” Khatib continued.

“That's why you quit the team here?” I turned my head to look at him. “Why didn't you quit at our old school?”

Khatib hesitated.

“It wasn't 'cause of what those guys on the team said about you that first day?” I asked.

Khatib pursed his lips. “That was part of it. My heart wasn't in being on the team anyway. I tried out 'cause Dad made all those special arrangements to get me a tryout. But when I heard the kind of stuff this one guy was saying, I was, like, forget this. I'm not putting up with this for something I'm not even that crazy about. I got better things to do.”

Like dance class? I wanted to ask him, but I already knew the answer. Khatib had found something he was more interested in than basketball. “You don't miss playing basketball? For real, Khatib?”

“I miss shooting hoops with Dad. I haven't used the one in the back 'cause I knew he'd be able to tell I wasn't practicing,” Khatib admitted softly. His breath tickled my ear as he turned to talk to me.

“And you don't care what those guys on the basketball team said about you?” I asked anxiously.

“It was only one guy. And he was stupid, Ola. He thought I was gonna take his place on the team. Besides, I heard that kind of stuff all the time when we played against white teams at the old school. That's not what was important.

What was important was how I felt about basketball,” Khatib said firmly.

I nodded. I felt a lot better now. Khatib had been the only thing that I was still worried about. I couldn't get over the change in him. He had been acting a lot less conceited lately.

And Aeisha was falling in love. I still thought that was gross, but I could handle it. Dad was getting used to the pressures of his new job and was making an effort to be home more. Then there was Lillian. At dinner that night, she had talked and laughed as much as the rest of us. She had two families now— one in Haiti and one here with us.

I pulled my knees up. “Why haven't you told Mama and Dad?”

“I will.” Khatib fixed his eyes on me. “When I'm ready. You can't tell them, Ola. Promise.”

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Promise, Ola,” Khatib repeated. His eyes bounced back and forth from my hands to my face. He wanted to make sure I wasn't going to cross my fingers behind my back or cheat in some other way.

“Promise what?”

“Ola.”

“I promise,” I said, standing up. “Thanks, Khatib. And you know what?”

“What?”

I opened the door and started backing out of the room carefully. “I won't tell them about your dance lessons, either.”

I was back in my room before Khatib had a chance to
close his mouth. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up over my head. I listened carefully. I could just make out the sound of the jazz station coming from Mama and Dad's radio, but there was something else, too. It was the sound of someone humming. I realized I could hear Lillian in her room next door. Aeisha was in her room reading, and Khatib was practicing his dancing. I closed my eyes. This house was finally starting to feel right.