Technical Foul (3 page)

“I might.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’ll see you there.... Like outside, by the tennis courts.” Spencer spread his fingers and brought them together in a fist.

Jared squared his shoulders. “Why wait till then?”

“You wanna fight now?”

“Your choice, pal.” Jared spit off to the side and looked back.

Fiorelli spoke up. “Not here. They’ll kick your butts off the team if you get caught.”

“There’s places we can go.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “I know a few where you can.”

“Big talk for a short man.”

“Short and strong.”

They eyed each other for a few seconds. Jared swallowed hard, but then he took a step toward Spencer. Spencer glared back and put up his hands. Jared reached out to Spencer’s chest and gave a one-handed shove.

Spencer whacked Jared’s arm away and went into a defensive stance. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“I’m ready.” But Jared didn’t want to fight, and he suspected that Spencer didn’t either. “I’ll fight you,” he said. “Anytime . . . but that doesn’t mean I want to.”

“What, are you scared now?”

“No way. I
said
I’d fight you. I only said I don’t
want
to.”

Spencer stepped back and lowered his fists. “You don’t
want
to because you know I’d trash you.”

“Not likely,” Jared said. “You’ve been busting my chops all week. I’d be glad to smack you around. I just don’t think it would solve anything. Like you said, we’re supposed to be a team.”

Spencer looked at Jared hard and nodded slowly. “Okay. For now. But this isn’t over yet. You going to that game tonight?”

“I said I might.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe you will. Tennis courts?”

“We’ll see,” Spencer said. “We’ll see.” He turned and walked away, and the other players joined him.

Jared watched them go until they’d left the school grounds. They were laughing. He looked around; no one else had been watching. He let out his breath and unclenched his fists. His ears were no longer cold.

Teammates, huh?
he thought.
Some teammates. They give me no support in the game and nothing but grief afterward.

Jared wiped his nose with the back of his hand and walked across the blacktop toward home. It wasn’t a long walk, but it was a lonely one. He decided to skip the high school game tonight. There was no sense in looking for trouble.

C
oach Davis’s rule was that if a player got kicked out of a game, then he had to sit out the next one as well. So Jared would have to wait an entire week before getting a chance for redemption.

He could practice with the team, of course, and things did seem a little better. The players were happy and relieved to have finally won a game, so no one—not even Spencer—was giving him a hard time. Coach did have Jared sit for part of the scrimmage, however, since the team would have to get ready to play without him in Thursday’s game against Eastside.

So Jared sat in the bleachers and watched his teammates scrimmage. Coach had Tony Coccaro, a fifth grader, working with the first team. Tony was thin, but he was the tallest player on the team, so he might make up a bit for the loss of Jared’s rebounding ability. There was a big difference between Tony and Jared as far as physical strength, however. If Eastside had a good inside game, then Hudson City would be in trouble.

Spencer’s enthusiasm was obvious this afternoon, dishing out assists and shouting encouragement to his teammates, especially Tony. His passes were sharp and the first team dominated the scrimmage even without Jared, but tomorrow would probably be a different story.

After practice Jared took his time changing clothes and packing his gym bag. He wanted to wait until Spencer was gone before leaving the locker room. Yesterday had been draining for Jared—the technical foul, the ejection, the confrontation with Spencer—and he didn’t want to face any more of that this afternoon. He hadn’t known Coach’s rule about sitting out a game until earlier today, and that had hit him hard as well. He certainly didn’t feel like fighting.

Jared looked around the locker room. Only a few players were still there, but Spencer was one of them. Jared zipped up his gym bag and headed for the door. Spencer was looking the other way.

“Didn’t see you last night,” Spencer said softly as Jared walked past.

“Didn’t feel like going,” Jared said.

Spencer turned to look at him. “You didn’t miss much,” he said. “They lost.”

“I heard.”

“Tomorrow might not be pretty.”

“How so?” Jared asked.

“My cousin goes to Eastside. She said they’re big and tough. Our man Tony’s gonna have his hands full under the basket. They’ll eat him alive.”

“Wish I could be in there,” Jared said.

“Me, too.”

Jared shook his head gently. “Stupid rule.”

“Nah,” Spencer said. “It’s a good rule. Makes sense to me.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jared said. “Might cost us a game though.”

Spencer shrugged and reached into his locker for his backpack. “We’ll be okay.”

“My fault,” Jared said.

“And mine.”

They stood there for a few seconds; then Jared turned to go.

“Hold up,” Spencer said. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Jared nodded, but he shifted his gym bag from his right hand to his left, just in case he’d need to throw a punch. Then Spencer followed him outside and onto the blacktop. A single lightbulb lit the area near the doorway. The rest of the schoolyard was dark.

“Getting cold,” Spencer said. Steam came out with his words.

“That’s December,” Jared replied, blowing out a stream of breath of his own.

“That’s New Jersey,” Spencer said. He looked up at the sky, which had patchy gray clouds lit by moonlight. “Long winter ahead. We’d better start winning.”

“Things’ll be different as soon as I start playing again,” Jared said. “Count on it.”

“I will,” Spencer said. He thrust his head toward home. “See you tomorrow, I guess. I gotta get going. My mom’s making chicken. If I don’t get there quick, my brothers will eat it all.” He laughed. “And I’m starving!”

“Get moving then,” Jared said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. In school.”

Jared watched Spencer hurry off. He could feel a difference already—a step in the right direction. Spencer wasn’t a bad guy. They just needed to work together better. It was all a matter of thinking like a team. That would be easier if they started to like each other. That didn’t seem impossible any longer.

Tonight’s walk home was a lot less bleak than the night before’s had been. Jared even took his time, heading up to the Boulevard to check out the Christmas lights downtown. Down the hill and across the river, he could see the New York City skyline, all lit up.

He felt lighter, more confident. They’d get this season turned around. They still had a long way to go.

J
ared opened the back door and greeted his mom.

“How was practice?” she asked.

“Not bad,” he said. “Pretty good.... Is Dad home?”

“Not yet. He’s bringing pizza, so we won’t be eating until he gets here. Have an apple or something.”

“Sure.”

Jared needed to tell his dad not to bother coming to the next day’s game, since he wouldn’t be playing. With both of his parents working full time, they didn’t get to many of his sports events, so he didn’t want his dad to waste any time off by watching Jared sit on the bench.

“You’re working tomorrow, right?” he asked his mom.

“Yes. But I think your father’s planning to get to the game,” she said.

“Oh.”

“We can’t wait to see you play,” she said. “I’ll be sure to get to a game in the next week or so.”

“That’s good.”

Jared hoped his dad hadn’t scheduled the time off yet. And he didn’t want to tell his mom about the suspension. He took a banana from the bowl on the counter and said, “See ya later.” He went upstairs to his room.

Jared sat on his bed and turned on the radio, tuning in a classic rock station from New York City. He picked up his guitar from beside the bed and strummed a few chords along with one of the songs. He hadn’t touched the guitar since last summer, when he’d quit taking lessons because of football practice. He’d promised his parents he’d start up again as soon as basketball ended. Mom and Dad often got on him about being “one dimensional.” “It can’t all be about sports,” they said.

But for Jared, it mostly was.

Soon he heard his dad’s car in the driveway.

“Pizza!” Mom yelled.

“I’m on my way!” Jared called back as he started down the stairs.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Jag. Got your favorite food here.”

“Smells great.”

Dad took off his coat and hugged his wife. “Looks like I can slip out in time for the game tomorrow,” he said. “Should be there by halftime, at least.”

“Oh,” Jared said. He peeled a slice of pizza out of the box and set it on his plate.

“You don’t sound very enthused,” Mom said.

“Well, it’s like this . . . ,” Jared began.

“Problem?” Dad asked.

“Well . . . I’m not playing tomorrow.”

“What?” Mom said. “Did you get hurt?”

“No. Just . . . Coach said I have to sit out one game. I kind of had an argument with somebody.”

“Oh, boy,” Dad said. He shook his head, but he was starting to smile. “An argument with your fists?”

“Not quite,” Jared said. “Just a little pushing. But Coach has this rule . . .”

“Thank God he does,” Mom said. “Did you get hurt?”

“No. I already said I didn’t. It was nothing, Mom.”

“Who was this fight with?” Mom asked.

“Spencer.”

“That nice black kid?”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That nice black kid. Mom, it was nothing. We’re friends. You just get tense sometimes in the heat of a game. We’re past it.”

“Well, I’m glad the coach didn’t let it slip by,” she said. “A lot of coaches don’t have that kind of integrity when their star players get in trouble.”

“So, is Spencer suspended, too?” Dad asked.

“No. Just me, because I started it. But it’s no big deal. Really.”

“All right,” Dad said. “Maybe I’ll go to the game anyway. I’ll check the schedule and see if I can get to another one next week. Maybe we can both go, huh, Sharon?”

“That would be nice,” Mom said.

“Yeah,” Jared said. “Believe me, we’re gonna start winning again next week. I can feel it.”

“All right,” Mom said. “Case closed. Just one last question: This had nothing to do with Spencer’s being black?”

“No way, Mom. Half the team is black. I would have pushed him if he was black, white, purple, or green. It was just a fight. And like I said, we’re over it.”

J
ared felt sheepish sitting on the bench in street clothes, watching his teammates struggle against Eastside. As expected, Hudson City couldn’t quite handle the opponent’s inside strength, missing Jared’s rebounding and shot-blocking skills. Although the Hornets kept the game close, Eastside gradually pulled away. When it was over, Hudson City’s record had fallen to a dismal 1–4.

The players knew that they were better than their record, though, and the feeling in the locker room was that things were about to improve.

“If we’d had Jared out there, we would have won,” Spencer said at the team meeting the next day. “I’m not complaining—I know why he wasn’t there. What I’m saying is, all those other teams better watch out now. All that losing is behind us.”

Spencer’s prediction seemed true to anyone watching practice the rest of the week. The Hornets’ team spirit soared. With Jared and Spencer leading the way, the scrimmages and drills took on a new level of energy and anticipation.

Finally, the next game arrived. Jared was so keyed up he could not concentrate at all in school. He looked at the clock repeatedly, counting down the minutes until he’d be out on the court again. He had a lot to prove. Not just about rebounding and putting the ball in the basket, but also about being a teammate.

Palisades was undefeated, with a pair of hot-shooting guards and a big, tough center. The Hudson City players were quiet on the bus ride over. Quiet but calm.

Jared sat next to Fiorelli. Spencer was in the seat ahead of them, and as they approached the Palisades school, he knelt on the seat and turned to his teammates.

“I played against some of these guys last summer in a tournament,” Spencer said. “Their center is strong as heck, but he’s slow. You have to take advantage of that, Jared. We need to get the fast break going. Fiorelli and me can handle their guards; the deciding factor will be you.”

Jared nodded. “Got ya,” he said.

“We’re in a hole as far as our record, but this will be a big step out of it,” Spencer said. “No way we’re gonna lose today, right?”

“No way,” Jared answered.

“No way,” repeated Fiorelli.

The bus came to a stop and the players filed off. The Palisades gym was already filling with students, and a small pep band was playing the Notre Dame fight song. Palisades players, in their black-and-gold warm-up suits, were running a layup drill at one of the baskets. The polished gym floor shined in the bright light. The scoreboard looked brand-new.

“We’ve only got about twenty minutes until game time,” Coach Davis said. “Hit the locker room and get ready. I want you back out here in five.”

Jared and the others set down their gym bags in the locker room and hustled back to the court. “Not giving us much time, are they?” Fiorelli commented.

“Who cares?” Jared said. “I’m ready right now. I haven’t played a game in eight days. I’m practically leaping out of my skin.”