Triple Threat (4 page)

“I'd love to see the look on their faces, being beat by some kids. And then we'd kick them off the court.”

I started to laugh. “That would be even more amazing.”

“Just after we scored the winning basket, I'd stroll on over to that big goof and tell him to get his sorry butt off
our
court … get out of
our
house.”

“And then I'd take his basketball and kick it over the fence and hope that it would get run over by a bus,” I added.

“That would be the perfect final touch,” Kia agreed.

I could picture it all in my mind—the ball soaring up and over the fence … I could only hope that a bus
would be coming along. Of course, my mind was the only place it was going to take place. We had no chance of beating them.

“Who's the best player you know?” Kia asked.

“I don't know. Jordan. Maybe Jamie. Mark's the best shooter.”

“I don't mean kids our age. I mean anybody.”

“Well, probably Coach Barkley.” Coach Barkley was our rep ball coach. He had been a star in college and even played in the NBA before a knee injury forced him to retire.

“He was really good,” Kia agreed. “But he's old. He's like forty. Besides, with his bad knee he wouldn't be good enough to help us beat those three.”

“Kia you have to forget it. We're not going to play those guys. Even if Coach Barkley had two good legs, even if he was younger, even if he'd agree to play, we still couldn't use him.”

“Why not?” Kia asked.

“Because he'd tell our parents what happened and they can't find out about any of this, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, that's right.”

“So let's just forget about it … okay?”

She didn't answer right away.

“Okay?”

She shrugged. “Sure, I'll forget it. What are we supposed to say to your mother about today?”

“Nothing. Just tell her we went to the center and hung around.”

“We could say we went swimming,” Kia suggested.

“Let's just not tell her anything. Lying to my mother is like lying to you. It doesn't work. So the less we say the better.”

“If you think that's the best way, I'll keep my mouth closed.”

“It is the best way, but that would be a first.”

“What would be a first?” Kia asked.

“You keeping your mouth closed.”

“You better apologize or I'm going to keep my mouth closed for the rest of the day.”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry … sorry that you have trouble keeping your mouth shut.”

Kia reached over and slapped me on the side of the head. I laughed and skipped out of range before she could hit me again.

“You jerk!”

“So now I'm a jerk too? You're just lucky you don't have a basketball or I'd kick it over a fence.”

“You're lucky I don't kick you over a fence!” she yelled playfully.

“Hey, you said you'd keep your mouth shut, so how about keeping it shut! I could use the peace and quiet!”

Kia started laughing and I laughed with her.

“So what would you do if I really didn't talk to you?” she asked.

“I told you … have some peace and quiet. You coming to my place for dinner?”

“What are you having?” she asked.

“Not sure.”

“Check, and I'll find out what we're having for dinner at my place. Let's go to whichever house has the best meal happening.”

“Now that's a plan,” I said.

We continued to walk along. I was wanting to forget about what happened, but I couldn't. Those guys were just plain mean. Mean and scary.

Even worse than thinking about what had happened was thinking that I knew Kia well enough to know that she wasn't going to let this go. If there was any way—
any
way—that she could get back at those guys, she was going to do it.

One of the reasons I was glad to have Kia as my friend was that she would be a really bad enemy to have.

“Isn't that your dad's car in the driveway?” Kia asked.

“Yeah … it is. Wonder what he's doing here.”

“He lives there, remember?”

“I mean, what is he doing here this early. He's not usually home until way later.”

“Only one way to find out,” Kia said.

“Hello!” I yelled as we raced through the door.

“Nick! Kia! That's great that you're both here,” my father said as he came to meet us at the front door.

“We're here, but why are you home so early?” I asked.

“Five o'clock isn't that early.”

“It is for you,” I said. “You haven't been home for supper at all this week.”

“Well, I have someplace special we have to get to,” he explained. “We have to go.”

“Go where?” I asked.

“To the mall.”

“We're going to the mall?” I asked in disbelief. “You hate the mall.”

“I hate shopping, and we're not going to the mall to do any shopping.”

“Why else would you go to the mall except to shop?” Kia asked.

“You'll find out when we get there.”

“You're not going to tell us?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It will make the surprise even better. Come on.”

We spun around and followed my father out to his car.

“What about supper?” I asked. “What about mom? Is she coming?”

“We're going to eat at the mall, and your mom is really happy not to be coming with us. She's going to stay at home. She has some work to finish up.”

“I guess it's too much to expect that both of you wouldn't be working at the same time,” I said.

“Two weeks from now we'll all be not working for three weeks in a row when we're on holidays.”

I was looking forward to us all being on holidays, but it would be hard not to have Kia around.

We climbed into the car.

“So will you at least give us a hint as to why we're going to the mall?” I asked. I didn't like surprises. I didn't like not knowing. It made me nervous.

“No hints. We'll be there in a few minutes.”

My dad not giving a hint made me even more uneasy.

Before long we pulled into the mall parking lot. It seemed to be more crowded than usual. There were no spots up close except for the handicapped spaces. We cruised slowly down the lane until we finally found a few open spots at the very end of the lot.

“Seems like we're not the only ones here tonight,” Kia said.

“Must be some sort of sale or something,” I said.

“Maybe,” my father agreed. “Then again, they could be here for the same reason as us.”

“And that reason is?” I asked.

My father closed his car door and crooked his finger. “Come on.”

There was a crowd of kids at the front doors—a whole pack of them off to the side, smoking. Smoking had to be the stupidest thing I could think of—I wondered if those three jerks from the rec center smoked. They seemed like the sort of people who would.

Kia made a loud fake coughing sound and gave the smokers a dirty look as we passed by, and they gave us a dirty look in return. She always did that.
She hated smoking as much as I did and didn't think it was fair that she had to inhale their stinky fumes. I was glad my father was with us in case they wanted to give us more than just a dirty look.

Inside, the mall was as crowded as the parking lot. People were milling around everywhere and there was loud music coming out of the overhead PA system. We threaded our way through the people until we reached the food court in the center of the mall. The tables had all been pushed back to the side and there was a stage set up. In front of the stage, a whole mass of people had gathered.

“Why don't you two work your way up to the stage, and I'll be right over there,” my father said, pointing at the escalator.

“I still want to know what we—”

“Look! Look!” Kia exclaimed. “Look at the stage!”

The stage was empty except for some sound equipment and a microphone and … there was a big sign stretched above the stage. It read THE JYD PROJECT in gigantic white letters on an orange banner.

“JYD…like Junk Yard Dog … like Jerome Williams?” I gasped.

“The one and only,” my father said.

“He's like one of my favorite players in the whole world!” I exclaimed.

“I know that. That's why I brought you here,” my father said. “He's going to be here.”

“Thank you so much … This is going to be fantastic!” I exclaimed.

“How did you know he was going to be here?” Kia asked.

“I heard about it on the radio,” my dad answered. “Junk Yard Dog, along with his brother Johnnie and a motivational rapper—I think his name is Q some-thing—have created a special project. They go out to hundreds of schools to speak to kids.”

“This is a mall,” I said, pointing out the obvious.

“They go out wherever there are people, young and old, to hear their message.”

“You know a lot about them,” Kia said to my father.

“I checked out their website—
www.JYDproject.org
—after I heard they were coming to town and were going to be here today. You two should go up closer to where the action is going to take place. I'll be right over here.”

Kia and I started snaking forward through the crowd. It was pretty full, but there was enough space for us to move forward until we were only four or five rows from the stage.

All of a sudden the music got louder and louder, the bass pounding. It continued to swell even louder, and there were lights flashing. Then it stopped.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the JYD Project presents the Mission Possible Tour!” a voice yelled over the PA system.

People started to cheer as a young man bounded out onto the stage, microphone in hand. He had a big smile on his face as he bounced across the stage.

“Good afternoon, everybody!” he called out. “It is so good to be here with you. Are you all happy to be alive today?”

The crowd roared back its approval.

“I can't hear you!” he called out.

The crowd—including Kia and me—screamed even louder.

“My name is Steve Coleman, but I'm known as QTMC That stands for Quest to Make Change. That is the mission of the JYD Project. To make change through words of encouragement and positive music. I'd like you all now to do something
with me. I want you to lift up an arm—no, lift up
two
arms.”

Kia raised her arms. I felt a little bit uncomfortable, but looking around the crowd I could see an ocean of arms stretching up all around us.

“I want to share a song with you,” QTMC called out.

The music got louder, the beat stronger.

“One … two … one … two … let's do this!” He started rapping to the beat of the music, moving across the stage, waving his outstretched arms back and forth.

“Now, throw your hands in the air … throw your hands up in the air … keep them up in the air! If you're happy to be alive today say, ‘Oh yeah!'

“Oh yeah!” the audience yelled back and swayed along with him, hands held high, arms swaying back and forth. You couldn't help but move along with the beat as QTMC kept rapping.

I leaned closer to Kia. “This guy is really good,” I yelled over the music.

“Fantastic!” she said back.

Kia wasn't just swinging her arms. She was swaying back and forth in time with the beat. She was really into the music that QTMC was performing. Looking
around I could see that she wasn't the only one. All the people in the crowd looked like they were feeling the same way.

The song came to an end and the audience cheered and clapped and screamed.

“Thank you! Thank you all!” QTMC called out. “I'd like to introduce you to a special friend of mine … a man who invited me to be part of the JYD Project … to be part of this Triple Threat team. He's a man who speaks from the heart to thousands and thousands of students every year about setting goals, embracing education, investing in themselves and reaching for their personal best in everything. Can we all give it up for Mr. Johnnie Williams the Third!”

People started cheering. From the side of the stage came a second man. He was taller than the first. He had a beaming smile as he glided across the stage. He and QTMC shook hands and then did a body bump as music began playing in the background again.

“How are you all doing today?” he called out, and the audience yelled back a greeting.

“I'm so happy and grateful to be here today. My name is Johnnie Williams the Third. I'm here today to pass on a message of hope—a message that's
important to me, to my good friend QTMC and to my brother … you all know my little brother … Jerome “Junk Yard Dog” Williams.”

There was a cheer from the audience.

“My brother and I decided that it was important for us to give back to our community. We created the JYD Project, a five-year plan to motivate 500,000 students. The JYD Project offers seven community outreach programs. Our programs aim to inspire youth to excel in academics and develop their self-confidence. I believe that the majority of our society's problems are man-made, leaving the power of solving them in our hands. I'm here today to tell you that the mission is possible.