Triple Threat (7 page)

Then came the hard part. We told my dad and then my mom and Kia's parents about JYD coming to the park to play basketball with us. They were all excited and happy. The big problem was that we didn't tell them why he was coming—just that he was going to be in the area and he said he liked to play street ball. My father talked about what an incredible experience that would be—to play ball with a genuine NBA player … a dream come true. He was right. It was like a dream … a dream I hoped wouldn't become a nightmare.

Of course our parents wanted to come and watch—who could blame them? We told them that
he was showing up at two o'clock and that we were going early to “warm up.” Actually everything was supposed to start just after one.

I hated lying, but we couldn't very well tell them the truth—that would involve way too much explaining and they might say no or get mad at us for not telling them what happened in the first place.

Thank goodness we told the story to my father first and then he told everybody else. My mother would have figured things out if I'd told her. Maybe it was her training as a reporter or something, but she was really good at seeing through things.

Kia and I had come up with a plan. We needed to challenge them to a game before JYD arrived so they wouldn't have a chance to see him and back out. If things worked out, we could play them, win, and they'd leave before our parents got there. Then all they'd see is what we told them—JYD fooling around on a court with us.

“What time is it?” Kia asked.

“Two minutes later than the last time you asked, which makes it ten minutes to one.”

“He'll be here soon.”

“If he's coming,” I said.

“Why wouldn't he be coming?” Kia asked.

“Well … you know.”

“Know what?”

“It's just that he's a big star. He's got lots of places he should be, lots of things he should be doing.”

“And he told us that this was the place he was going to be and the thing he was going to be doing,” Kia said. “You were there when he agreed.”

“I know. I heard him … it's just … ”

“Just what?”

“It's just that maybe he didn't think he had any choice but to say yes. Maybe he thought it over and then he realized that he couldn't make it.”

“No, he wouldn't do that … would he?” she asked.

I thought about what he'd said, what I'd read about JYD, the things he and Johnnie and QTMC had said at the performance, the person I thought he was.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “JYD gave his word and he's going to be here,” I said.

“You're sure, right?”

“I'm sure.”

“Well, in that case, it's time. Come on.”

Kia stood up and started walking toward the court. I got up and trailed after her. For better or worse we
were going to do it. We walked through the gate and onto the edge of the court. At first nobody noticed. They were all looking at the action on the court and not two little kids standing at the side.

Standing there, watching, I started to get more nervous again. What were they going to say when they saw us? How would they react? I knew JYD would come if he could, but things did happen. What if he got caught in traffic or slept in? What if he slept in and he came but was thirty minutes late? Thirty minutes when these big guys could kick our ball—and us—over the fence.

Kia started dribbling her ball. She was using the ball that JYD had signed yesterday. My ball was safely at home. One ball drop-kicked over the fence was enough.

“Hey!” Kia yelled and I practically jumped out of my shoes. “We get the winners!”

The guy dribbling the ball stopped. Everybody stopped. The people standing and watching the game all turned to look at us. That was smart. Whatever was going to happen to us was going to be a lot more interesting than what was happening in the game.

“What are you two doing back here?” the biggest of the jerks asked.

“Taking you up on your invitation,” Kia said. “You told us that if we wanted to come back we had to play, so we're here to play you.”

Everybody started to laugh. I couldn't blame them. This was a joke. Me and Kia playing them.

“Go away, kids,” the biggest guy said.

“You said to come back when we were ready to play, so we're back. We challenge you three to a game. That is unless you're afraid to play us,” Kia added, and the laughter got even louder.

“You two have got to be either the bravest little midgets I ever met or the stupidest.”

“Could be both,” I said, to another rain of laughter. Actually I wasn't joking. This was an act of stupidity as much as bravery.

“Either way, as soon as you finish with your game, we get to play the winners,” Kia said.

“Like you said the last time, there's only two of you, so a three-on-three game would be hard … unless you're giving us a handicap … you know, letting us outnumber you like this,” he said.

“You got a big enough handicap as it is,” Kia said. “You know, the way you can't drive to your left-hand side if your life depended on it.”

There was more laughter and applause. Not that
he'd driven much—mostly he just set up down on low post and powered through his coverage—but we'd noticed his difficulties when we were watching them play. Right or wrong, though, it wasn't the smartest thing to say to somebody as big and mean as him.

He walked right over to us. As he got closer I got more anxious. I had to fight the urge to simply grab Kia, turn and run away as fast as my legs would carry me. I stood still. He stopped when he was right in front of us—actually he was towering above us. His shirt was stuck against his body, held in place by the same sweat that dripped off his face.

He bent down so that his face was practically level with mine.

“Whether I drive with my left hand or not, it isn't my life that's in danger here,” he said softly.

I swallowed hard.

“You scared?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I admitted honestly.

“I'm not!” Kia snapped.

“Maybe you should be,” he said.

“What are you going to do, kick this ball over the fence too?” Kia asked, holding the ball out.

I couldn't believe her nerve. She had to be the guts-iest person I'd ever met. She probably really
wasn't
afraid of him.

He shook his head. “Nope. Shouldn't have done that to your ball,” he said, pointing at me. “Tell you what. You two amuse me. A couple of gutsy little dudes.”

“Do I look like a dude to you?” Kia demanded.

“Okay, okay, don't get mad!” he said, holding his hands up like he was surrendering. “You want to stand around and watch, you can, and nobody will bother you.”

“We don't want to stand around and watch,” Kia said.

“We want to play … against you and your buddies. That is unless you lose the game you're playing and then we'll play the other team instead. It doesn't matter to us who we beat as long as we get a chance to beat somebody.”

He turned to his two buddies. “She's got guts, don't she?” He turned back to us. “Again, little girl, no matter how much you want to play us in three-on-three, you're still short a player.”

“He'll be here … soon.”

The big guy shook his head, but he smiled.

“Come on, Ben, let's play ball!” one of his partners yelled out.

“Coming … coming!” he called out. “Your third man comes, we'll play you. I figure that's the only way I'm ever going to get you to shut up.”

That probably wouldn't get Kia to shut up either.

“Just one more thing,” Kia said. “I want to make sure you remember what you said. If we beat you, you'll go away and leave the court, right?”

“If you beat us, I'm not just leaving the court. I'm leaving the planet!” one of the others said to a whole chorus of laughter.

“So you'll go away?” Kia asked.

“We'll go … Of course, that means when we win, we'll never see you two again … right?”

“If you win, then we'll go,” Kia said. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

Kia held out her hand and the big guy shook it.

“Now if you don't mind, how about letting us get back to this game … you know, so we can figure out who gets the honor of playing against you next game.”

“No problem,” Kia said.

We walked off the court and stood over by the fence.

“What time is it?” Kia asked.

I looked at my watch. “He was supposed to be here two minutes ago.”

“Nick,” Kia said quietly. “Is that him?”

“Where?”

She pointed to a black Escalade that was pulling into the parking lot. It had fancy rims and was big and shiny. I couldn't see anybody through the tinted windows. It slowed down and the passenger window glided open. It was JYD! Kia waved and he smiled and gave a little wave back.

“Hey!” Kia yelled out, and the players on the court turned around. “Our third player is here.” She pointed to the SUV. “He's right there.”

The guy looked in the direction she had pointed. He strained to see. “Where?”

The door of the SUV opened and JYD climbed out. He gave a little wave.

“That's … that's … ”

“That's our third player,” Kia said.

“But he's … he's Junk Yard Dog Williams!”

“Yeah, he is. You said we could get anybody we wanted, so we did.”

“But he's in the NBA.”

“You said anybody,” Kia replied. “If you didn't want us to get anybody in the NBA, you should have mentioned it.”

JYD's brother Johnnie and QTMC got out of the SUV as well. The three of them slowly sauntered through the gate and onto the court. They all looked big and serious and more than a little bit scary.

Then JYD flashed one of his huge smiles and the tension vanished.

“How's it going, everybody!” he called out, and everybody rushed forward, talking and holding out their hand for him to shake or a basketball for him to sign.

It took a long time for things to settle down. JYD had signed everything that everybody had wanted him to sign. He even signed things for the three stooges. I almost wished that he hadn't. After all, they were the enemy, the bullies we were here to beat. I wished he'd signed everybody's stuff except for theirs. Then again, he'd signed their basketballs. Maybe after the game I could kick one of those balls over the fence and see how they felt about it.

“These guys can play some ball,” JYD said as we watched them finish up their game.

“They are pretty good,” I agreed. “But you're a lot better … right?”

“Of course he's better. These are just good high school players,” Kia said, and I knew that she was right.

“Do you think we can take them?” I asked.

“That's not the most important thing,” JYD said.

“It isn't?” Kia asked.

He shook his head.

“Then what is the most important thing?” I asked.

“Lots of other things. For example, it's important that you and Kia think we can take them.” He paused. “Well, do you?”

“With you on our team we can't miss,” Kia said. “I figure we'll just keep feeding you the ball and then you'll score.”

“That could work,” JYD agreed. “Just one problem with that plan. If I score all the points, what does that mean?”

“It probably means that we win,” Kia said.

“We'd win the battle, but you two would lose the war.”

“I'm confused,” I said. “There's no war here … at least I hope there isn't.” I didn't want to get into a fight with these guys even if JYD was on our side.

“Let me explain,” JYD said. “These guys probably know that I'm a better ball player than they are.”

“If they don't, they're bigger idiots than even I thought,” Kia said.

“Let's not do any name calling,” JYD said.