Jump Shot (8 page)

Sugar, of course, was at the heart of it all, as usual. He did most of the ball-handling. Whenever the Bears double-teamed him, causing him to stop dribbling, he would pass it to one of the Eagles' forwards, Larry Budnick or Jake Lewis. He never went to Rory Mathis because Rory was being covered like a blanket by his counterpart on the Bears. As for Bobby Dominic, he was being pushed around like a broomstick.

When Larry or Jake got a pass from Sugar, they would just pass it right back to him. It was Sugar doing all the shooting. And right now, he was ice cold.

By the time Coach Jackson called his first time-out, the Eagles were already desperate. The score was 14–5, Bears.

“Ronde, you're in for Rory,” Jackson said. Rory nodded, seemingly relieved to be sitting down.

“That guy is super-tough to guard,” he told Ronde. “And he sticks to you like flypaper. I wish you luck.”

“You've got to put him to sleep, dude,” Ronde said. “Watch me. I'll show you.”

Out on the court, Ronde seemed suddenly lazy. He seemed to be just standing there. Then, just as he sensed
the defender relaxing his guard, he made his move.

“Hit me!” he yelled to Sugar, who was desperately fighting off the double-team.

Sugar saw that Ronde was free and heading for the basket—but instead of passing, he made a move of his own. He crashed into the two kids guarding him, and the ref blew his whistle.

“That's a charge!” the ref yelled, pointing to Sugar. “Bears' ball!”

“What??” Sugar yelled, stamping his feet. “That's garbage!”

The ref blew his whistle and pointed to Sugar. “And that's a technical! One more word out of you, and you're out of the game, understand?”

Sugar opened his mouth to answer, but Coach Jackson stopped him by pulling him gently away. “Hey!” he barked into Sugar's ear. “We need you on the court! You can't go getting yourself thrown out of games!”

Sugar nodded, still eyeing the official. He went to the bench and sat down, and seventh grader Dave Bassin, who almost never got much game time because he was Sugar's backup at point guard, came in as his replacement.

Ronde covered his man perfectly as the Bears inbounded after their free throws. He kept his focus on his man's midsection, not his eyes. Ronde knew the way good broken-field runners use their eyes to fool the defender.

Well, he wasn't biting. The Bears turned it over. It was the first break the Eagles had gotten all game.

On offense, though, there was utter confusion. Without Sugar there to dominate control of the ball, everyone was suddenly calling for it! Even if they were only the least bit free, their hands went up, vying for Dave's attention.

He turned from one to the next, and in doing so, took his eyes off the defender. Before he knew it, the ball had been knocked away!

Ronde saw it coming, and was on it before anyone else could get there. He looked up—and there was Bobby under the basket, alone! Ronde whipped a pass to him, and Bobby threw up an easy layup for the score!

The home crowd erupted in cheers. It wasn't often the Eagles cashed in without Sugar on the court.

Ronde took a quick look over at the Eagle bench, and saw Sugar arguing with Coach Jackson.
He wants back in,
he said to himself. He wondered how long Coach J. would leave his star on the bench with a crucial game on the line.

As long as we keep it close,
he told himself,
Coach won't make a substitution.
He was determined that he and the others now on the court were going to put on a show.

Ronde darted forward and snagged another loose ball. He dribbled quickly down the court—never mind
that he wasn't the point guard, he was free!

He could hear a defender closing on him from behind, and pulled up short. The defender hit him like a two-ton truck. Ronde went down, and the whistle blew.

“Foul!” yelled the ref.

Ronde got up and checked himself for bruises.
Not too bad,
he judged. Standing at the free throw line, he took the ball and calmly sank one shot, then another.

Sugar wound up sitting the whole rest of the first half. When the buzzer sounded, the Eagles were in the lead, 32–28. Ronde had scored seven points, five of them on free throws. He'd notched three rebounds, three steals, and two assists. It was the best performance by an Eagle not named Sugar in anyone's memory!

Ronde felt really, really good. He was proud of what he'd done, and even though his teammates slapped him five, and he knew they were as excited as he was, none of them said much, other than “nice going.”

In the locker room at halftime, he wondered whether Sugar would say
anything
to him. Before the game, he'd been really angry with Tiki, and with Ronde, too. Would Ronde's great work on the court change Sugar's attitude for the better?

Or
worse
?

Here came Sugar now. He looked straight at Ronde and said, “Way to go.”

Ronde breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks!”

“Coach is pairing us up for the second half. That means you're in for the start.”

“Oh.” Ronde paused. “But . . . what about Rory?”

“You're in,” Sugar said simply. That was all he said, except, “See you out there. You know what to do with the ball when you get it, right?”

Ronde nodded. He knew what Sugar expected him to do—pass it straight to Sugar.

He glanced over at Rory, who was sitting glumly in front of his locker. Ronde got up and went over there. “Don't worry, man,” he said, sitting next to him on the bench. “I'm gonna fix this whole mess.”

“Yeah, you fixed it great so far,” said Rory, not looking at him.

Ronde got up without saying anything more. Rory was bound to be mad at him for taking his place on the starting five. That was natural. But Ronde had meant what he'd said: He meant to fix this mess, and soon.

The second half was a pitched battle, between the Bears on one side and Ronde and Sugar on the other.

In a way, Ronde had succeeded—he'd convinced Sugar to share the ball, the way a good point guard should. The bad part was, the only one he'd share the ball with was Ronde. And he was doing that only because he knew Ronde would pass it right back to him!

On the
other
hand, Ronde did find himself free for
a few easy shots—and when he did, he sank them. Sugar did his part, dazzling the Bears' defense with his moves and his soft-touch jumpers, passing off to Ronde whenever the Bears came at him with the double-team.

“That's what I'm talkin' about!” Sugar roared when the Blue Ridge coach had to call an emergency time-out to keep the Eagles from running away with the game. “That's what I've been trying to get going all season!”

Yeah,
Ronde said silently to himself.
Now try it with everybody else on the team!

He said nothing out loud, of course. Not now, in the middle of a crucial ball game. But Ronde knew he'd have to say something soon—this team needed every victory it could get. One more loss, and it would mean the end of their last remaining goal: a winning season.

For today, Ronde and Sugar's heroics were enough. The Eagles won by a score of 57–54. Sugar scored only seventeen points, but Ronde's eleven points helped to make up the difference.

Okay, so they'd kept their dream alive, he thought as he followed the team back into the locker room—for today, at least. But that was small comfort. The Bears were a losing team, well below the Eagles in the standings.

Both of the Eagles' remaining games were against play-off contenders, and the Eagles needed to win out
in order to finish over .500. One thing was for sure—they were going to need more than two effective players to do it.

Ronde knew that if things were going to shift, today had to be the day. Now had to be the time.

He wasn't sure how to start the conversation. But luckily, Sugar helped him out by starting it himself.

“Yo, Ronde,” he said, waving him over to his locker. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ronde said, nodding. “Got all my stuff. Sure, I'm ready.”

“Let's go.” He led the way, and Ronde followed. Most of their teammates had already showered, changed, and left for home. “The bus'll be waiting.”

Rory Mathis was still sitting by his locker, in full uniform. He stared after Ronde as he and Sugar left, and Ronde wondered what he was thinking.

There were others on the bus, and they all wanted to high-five Sugar and Ronde. Ronde obliged, but he couldn't get the image of Rory out of his mind. He'd taken over the poor kid's spot—and it wasn't the coach who'd made the switch, it was Sugar!
That would surely never have happened on the football team,
he knew. Now, Rory probably thought Ronde had made friends with Sugar just so he could take over as starter.

Sugar sat down on the bus, and saved the seat next to him for Ronde. Soon they were on their way back to
Hidden Valley, and the roar of the bus's engine made it easy for the two boys to talk without kids in the nearby rows hearing them.

“Sorry about chewing you out before the game,” Sugar said. “I know you're not your brother.”

“My brother's the best there is,” Ronde said, sticking up for Tiki.

He meant it too. Sugar saw, and backed down.

“Sure, sure,” he said. “Whatever. But that column he wrote was just sour grapes, yo. He was a shooting guard who couldn't shoot straight, you know?”

“He shoots fine,” Ronde said pointedly, “when people don't get all over his back about it. He doesn't need that extra pressure—he puts enough pressure on himself.”

Sugar shrugged, and sighed. “Okay, okay. He sure is great at football, anyway. You are too—but you can also play some awesome defense. Tonight was pure, man. That was a show you put on. How many steals?”

“I don't know . . . seven . . .”

“That's right. You do know. And you should be proud of yourself, dude. You got your chance, and you ran with it.”

“Thanks . . . I guess . . .”

“You've got to be a little selfish in this world, you know?” Sugar went on, as if they were suddenly best friends, sharing their innermost thoughts. “In the end,
everybody's all about ‘me.' It's crazy not to be the same, and even more so.”

“Is
that
what you think?” Ronde asked.
“Really?”

“Sure,” Sugar said, taken aback. “Why not? My mom walked out on the rest of us, did you know that?”

Ronde caught his breath. Should he admit that he did know? For a moment, he considered playing innocent—but then, he figured it was best to just be as up-front as possible. Sugar obviously felt betrayed enough as it was. “Um . . . I . . .”

Sugar didn't wait for his answer. “That's right—one day, out of nowhere, she just up and drove away. She left a note saying it wasn't because of me or my sister, that we were great kids, blah, blah, blah.” He snorted. “It was all about
her
, see? And now I realize, that's how it is with
everybody
.”

Ronde thought about that statement for a moment. “I don't believe that,” he finally said. “I don't think it's that way, not for most people.”

Sugar frowned. “You're just a sucker, Barber. Watch out somebody doesn't let you down big-time.”

“What about your dad?” Ronde asked. “Where was he during all this?”

Sugar's jaw grew tense as he stared at the seat back in front of him. “My dad works a lot . . . travels a lot . . . but at least he was there for us when he was home.”

Ronde thought he saw Sugar's chin quiver for a split
second, but then it set itself tight again. “Nobody was thinking about me or my sister. My parents would be fighting all the time, and nobody bothered to come say good night to us.”

Ronde felt for him. It was painful just to be sitting this close to someone who was so hurt and angry. And worst of all, Ronde knew it was up to him to say the right thing—the one thing that would change Sugar's way of thinking about other people.

The bus was getting close to his stop. There wasn't much time left. What could he say . . . ? What
should
he say . . . ?

“You say your dad is always there for you when you need him. But your mom was there in the parking lot that night last week, and you wouldn't even
look
at her.”

He knew he'd taken a risk by saying it out loud. That moment had obviously been upsetting to Sugar. He'd shut Ronde out from then right up until now. But somehow, Ronde felt sure that this was at the bottom of Sugar's problem, and unless they could talk about it, there was no further progress to be made. That made it a risk worth taking.

Sugar had reacted badly that night in the parking lot, and this time was no different. “You think you know all about it, huh, Barber?” he said bitterly. “You don't know
anything
.
Nothing,
you hear? Nothing!!”

•  •  •

“And that was it,” Ronde finished telling Tiki as they sat up in their beds that night. “Everyone on the bus knew he was mad, and they all asked me what was up, but I didn't say anything. Luckily, it was my stop, so I didn't have to hang around.”

Tiki shook his head. “That's got to be it, Ronde! This business with his parents' divorce has got him all messed up, and he's taking it out on everybody else—including the team!”

“Man, we are going to
lose
these games coming up unless something changes,” Ronde said, defeated. “I've done what I can do, Tiki. He totally shut me out.”

Tiki stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that shone down at them from the ceiling, green in the darkness. “We've got some time till next game,” he said. “I've got one more thing I want to try before then.”