Underdog (2 page)

“That was some move,” I gasped.

“You haven't seen anything yet,” he said.

Kia and I walked to the top of the key. “You want me to cover him?” she asked quietly.

“You think you can do any better?”

“Couldn't do any worse than that,” she replied.

“How about if you just move a little and give me some help,” I whispered.

“If I double down he'll just kick it out to Mark for an open jumper.”

“I don't think that'll happen,” I said. “Didn't you notice the way he dribbles?”

“You mean the way he broke you off at the ankles?”

“Funny. No, the way he didn't even look at Mark. Let's see if he even notices the open man.”

“Are you two playing or praying?” Ashton yelled at us.

“I'll throw it in,” I said to Kia. I checked the ball with Ashton and instantly threw a strike to Kia. She turned toward the hoop but was immediately double teamed. Kia kicked it back out to me and I had another clear lane to the basket. I drove in and—” Ouch!” I screamed as Ashton bowled me over and I fell to the ground.

“Foul!” Kia screamed.

“Hard foul!” I added.

Ashton offered me a hand and helped pull me to my feet. “I couldn't let you go clean to the net. Besides, there's no point in fouling unless you foul hard.”

“That's what our coach always says,” Kia added.

“Then you got a smart coach,” Ashton said. “You get two foul shots.”

“Next basket is game for us,” Kia announced as she handed the ball to Ashton.

He grumbled out something under his breath. While I couldn't understand the words, I knew the attitude. He was not happy about how things were going. Then again, I wouldn't be happy if my team was losing thirteen to six.

Of course, it was wrong to say his team was losing because he really didn't have a team. Other than putting the ball into play, Mark had hardly handled the ball. As soon as it got into Ashton's hands it was gone. He dribbled and drove and dipsy-doodled and then shot.

If I'd have been Mark I would have been yelling for the ball, but that wasn't Mark. He just stood there, quiet, waiting for the ball.

It had gotten to the point where Kia was hardly bothering to cover Mark anymore.
What was the point? Despite Mark being completely open, Ashton never kicked the ball back to him. That was lucky because it did take the two of us to cover him, and if he did get the ball to Mark, there was no way Mark would miss a shot that was that open.

This kid could really dribble. But I didn't know much about the rest of his game. I certainly didn't know how well he could pass—actually I didn't even know if he could pass. And I didn't know anything about his outside shooting. All he did was dribble and drive, but boy could he do those things.

Once again Mark in-bounded the ball to Ashton. He immediately began a series of wild moves. I'd learned to stay back off him a couple of feet. If you tried to close in he'd make you look bad. But since he didn't shoot it was okay to play off a step or even two. His whole game was beating his man and driving to the net. Once I knew that, stopping him wasn't that hard—well, at least it wasn't impossible. Then again, if Kia wasn't helping me out, he might have still been able to get around me.

With both Kia and me blocking him, there was no way he was going to get by us, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying. He tried to drive between us. Kia reached out and poked the ball away. It bounced to Mark. He set and then put up a shot. It swooshed right in.

“Nice shot!” Ashton yelled. Mark smiled ever so slightly and shrugged.

Kia took the ball and checked it with Mark.

“He can make those shots all day,” Kia said. “Not that it matters now because the game is over.”

“It's not over!” Ashton protested.

“No, you're wrong, it's over,” Kia said.

“All we have to do is make the next three baskets and—”

Kia lobbed in a high pass over Ashton and Mark. While they'd been arguing I'd faded in behind them and was completely open under the net. I grabbed the pass and put in a very easy, unopposed lay-up.

“You were saying?” Kia asked.

“So we gonna play again?” Ashton asked.

“Why not?” Kia replied. “Sometimes we play until it gets dark.”

“In my neighborhood they sometimes play until it gets light,” Ashton said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means that they play ball all night long. If I leave my bedroom window open, I can hear the sound of the bouncing ball all the way up to the twenty-seventh floor.”

“That's pretty high up,” I said.

“Yeah. It's really high.”

“It must be some view,” Kia added.

“It is. If you stand on the railing of the balcony you can see all the way downtown.”

“You stand on the railing of your balcony on the twenty-seventh floor?” I gasped. I hated heights. No, that was wrong. I didn't just hate heights, I was terrified of them.

“Not me. One of my brothers does.”

“He just stands up on the railing?” I asked, not able to believe that anybody would do that.

“Don't you try to stop him?” Kia asked.

“He's my big brother. I can't stop him from doing anything. Besides, it's not like he does it all the time. It was just a couple of times. It made my stomach do a flip watching him.”

“It makes my stomach flip just hearing you tell me about watching him,” I said.

“So are we going to play again or what?” Ashton asked.

“Sure, do you want to go with the same teams or—”

“Heellloooo!” My mother's voice came floating out of the house. “Muffins are out of the oven!”

“So much for playing!” Kia said. “Time for a snack!”

Kia and Mark headed for the front door.

“Okay…thanks for the game,” Ashton said as he took the ball and rolled it onto the grass.

“Don't you want to play anymore?” I asked.

“Yeah, but you're stopping.”

“We'll play after we take a break…you do like muffins, don't you?” I asked.

“Um…yeah…I guess,” he stammered.

“Then come on.”

“Are you sure that's okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn't it be? You think she only baked three muffins?”

Ashton laughed. “It's not that…It's just that…you know…your mother might not want you to bring a stranger into the house.”

“Stranger? Your name is Ashton, isn't it?”

“Of course it is.”

“Then you're not a stranger. But we better get inside fast. We've given Mark and Kia too much of a head start. There might not be any muffins left by the time we get there.”

Ashton followed me into the house. I kicked off my shoes and he did the same. I led him down the hall and into the kitchen. Kia and
Mark were already sitting at the table, a partially drunk glass of milk and an empty muffin wrapper in front of each of them. They were already working on seconds.

“Are there any left, you pigs?” I asked.

Kia started oinking and Mark chuckled.

“Don't worry, I baked three dozen,” my mother said. Her back was to us.

“Mom, I'd like you to meet somebody,” I said.

She turned around and gave Ashton a big smile.

“Mom, this is Ashton.”

He rushed over and held out his hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you, ma'am.”

“You have wonderful manners,” my mother said, and I thought how he didn't greet any of us that way.

“Thank you, ma'am,” he said. “My mother always insists that me and my brothers formally address adults.”

“Now, you and Nick wash your hands and I'll have a nice big glass of milk and a muffin—”

“
A
muffin?” I asked, cutting her off.

“Okay, a few muffins waiting for you.”

I hurried over to the kitchen sink with Ashton in tow.

“Those muffins really smell fantastic, ma'am,” he said as he began to wash his hands.

“Thank you. And they taste even better than they smell. Right, Kia…right, Mark?”

They both mumbled out agreement through a mouthful of muffin.

“So, Ashton, do you go to school with Kia and Nick?” my mother asked.

“No, ma'am. I go to Brookmeade.”

“Brookmeade? That's not even close to here,” she said.

“It's no farther than Mark's school,” I said. Kia and I went to the same school, but Mark's school was halfway across the city.

“If you don't go to school together, how did you get to know these kids?” she asked.

“Playing basketball,” I said, answering for him. “You know how it is. Every kid who plays ball is a friend with every other kid.” For some reason I didn't want her to know that we'd just met twenty minutes ago.

“I see,” she said. She had that look like she was getting ready to think of her next question.
It wasn't that my mom was nosy, but she was a reporter for the local paper and liked asking questions. Actually, come to think of it, she was a reporter, but she also was sort of nosy. She always knew everybody and everything about their lives.

“And you should see Ashton play,” Kia added.

“He's got incredible ball skills,” I agreed.

“Better than you three?” my mother asked.

“He's got some great moves,” I said.

“Then maybe he should try out for your team,” she suggested.

“He's too old,” I said.

“Too old?” my mother questioned. “But doesn't Brookmeade only go to grade five?”

“Yeah,” Ashton said. “I'm in grade five.”

“You are?” I asked in astonishment. “Are you supposed to be in grade five?”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked. He sounded irritated.

“It's just that you're pretty big,” I said. “I just thought that because you're so big that maybe…maybe… ”

“That maybe I failed a grade?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be,” he said. “I've never failed anything in school, ever.”

“I didn't mean anything bad,” I said. “It's just that you're bigger than anybody in our whole school who's in grade five.”

“What grade are you three in?”

“We're all in grade five,” Kia said.

“And you're all supposed to be in grade five?” he asked.

“Of course we're supposed to be in grade five,” she answered.

“Then you're all in the same grade and the same age, so Ashton could try out for your team,” my mother said.

“He could,” I said.

“We even have a couple of openings,” Kia said. “We could really use an extra point guard.”

Mark nodded in agreement.

“The tryouts are on Saturday,” Kia added. “One to three o'clock at Sheridan College, main gym.”

“There'll be lots of kids, but you're a really good player,” I said. “We could even tell Coach
about you, so it wouldn't be like you were a stranger to him.”

“Are you interested in coming out?” Kia asked.

Ashton shrugged. “I might be. I only have one question.”

“What's that?” I asked.

He turned to my mother. “Do you think I could have another muffin, ma'am?”

“Come on, boys and girl, it's time for a little basketball!” Coach Barkley yelled. “Everybody, let's have five laps to get warmed up!”

We started jogging around the perimeter of the gym.

“How many people you figure are here?” I asked Kia as we rounded a corner.

“Maybe sixty, but don't worry, you'll make the team”

“I'm not worried about that…not much. I was just wondering, that's all.”

“Pick it up!” Coach yelled and we kicked it up a notch.

“He's not here,” Kia said.

I ran a quick mental list. Everybody from last year's team was here. “Who's not here?”

“Ashton.”

“Oh, yeah. Did you really think he was going to come?” I asked.

“I didn't know, but I figured he might want to— ”

“Nick! Kia! Did you two come out here to play basketball or have a little chat? ‘Cause I wouldn't want this tryout to get in the way of your socializing!”

We both put our heads down and started running a little bit harder. This was a new record. I didn't think anybody had annoyed Coach this early in a tryout or practice. And annoying Coach Barkley was not a good idea.

We completed the fifth lap and came to a stop. A couple of kids—kids who didn't know Coach—went to get their water bottles from the bleachers. Those of us who knew him knew this was a mistake. A big mistake.
A really big mistake
.

“Anybody who needs a drink and a break can take one!” Coach bellowed. “In fact, they
can take a break for the next few months because they won't be on my team!”

The couple of guys who had grabbed water bottles dropped them and rushed back out to join us.

“Nick,” Coach said, and I felt a little jolt of electricity go up my spine. Was he going to say something else about Kia and me talking or that I hadn't run fast enough or…” Go into the middle and lead everybody in some stretches,” Coach said.

Kia walked over with me to the center of the gym. “You really are Coach's pet, aren't you? Hey, there's Ashton!”

Ashton had just come in through the double doors at the end of the gym. He put down his bag and rushed over and joined everybody else as they started to form a big circle around me. I wondered if Coach noticed him coming in late.

“Just so people know!” Coach yelled. “There's probably nothing I hate as much as late.” Obviously he had noticed Ashton's entrance. “For the next tryout, if you come late, don't even bother coming at all!”

Coach was in a fine mood. I'd start the stretches and try to keep out of his way.