“Okay, everybody!” Mr. Roberts yelled.
We all stopped and held on to the balls, leaving the gym in silence.
“I’m not going to say that was the worst practice in the history of basketball.” He paused. “Because I haven’t seen every practice in the history of basketball…but that was not very good. Although we are getting better each practice, and we will continue to get better, because as you all know, a winner doesn’t quit…”
“…and a quitter doesn’t win!” we all yelled back.
Mr. Roberts had lots of sayings and we knew them all.
“Let’s get back to practice!” he called out. “Layup drill!”
We got back into the two lines. One line went in for the layups and the other line got the rebound. I was tired of layup drills. I was tired of practicing the basketball basics over and over again, doing things that most of our team just didn’t seem to get.
Our school team had always been good, but this season was probably going to be a long one. Aside from Kia and me, there really wasn’t anybody. Most of the team had graduated and gone on to the middle school for grade seven. And then the twins, Brad and Brent, moved away, and Greg got hurt on the playground and wasn’t able to play.
Greg’s injury was just so stupid. We were playing some basketball at recess and he’d tripped on one of the little kids and sprained his ankle so badly that he couldn’t play for weeks.
Greg’s injury was bad, but the reason for his injury was also hurting us. Normally we could play basketball during lunch and recess, but that wasn’t so easy right now. The field was being repaired—it was being levelled and new sod put down, and the baseball diamond was being replaced. That was all good. But in the meantime nobody was allowed on the field, which meant that everyone had to stay on the pavement and the basketball court was flooded with kids.
Mr. Roberts blew his whistle and we all stopped. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next. I knew what I would have said to a bunch of kids who couldn’t make layups, but I knew he wouldn’t say that.
“The morning bell is just about to go. Thank you all for coming out, and remember, you only fail when you fail to try. I’ll see you all right after school, right here in the gym, for our first game of the season.”
There was a mumble of excitement. I wasn’t excited. I was smart enough to know we should all be pretty scared about what was going to happen.
“Now, head off to class and no fooling around in the hall.”
Everybody went to the change room except for Kia and me. We always stayed to help put away the balls—part of our responsibilities as co-captains of the team.
“So,” Mr. Roberts said, “what do you two think of the team?”
Kia and I exchanged a look. Did he want an honest answer?
“Um…we’ll win some games this year,” I said.
“That’s a very polite answer from one of my co-captains. Kia, in a couple of words, how would you describe our team?”
“We suck.”
He laughed. “That certainly is a couple of words.”
“Actually, we don’t suck,” she said, pointing first to me and then to herself, “but the rest of the team is seriously challenged.”
“Nick, do you agree? Do you think the team is challenged?”
Reluctantly I nodded my head.
“Do either of you think we have any chance of defending our title and winning it all again this year?” he asked.
“There’s always a chance,” I said.
“There’s a chance I’m going to learn to fly, but I think it’s probably a pretty small chance,” Kia added.
He nodded his head ever so slightly in agreement. “I guess you two know what that means, right?”
For a split second I thought “quit,” but I knew that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
“We have to try to work as hard as we can, game by game, starting with tonight’s game, hoping that we get better,” I said.
“We will get better when Greg can play again,” Kia added.
“We will, but that won’t be tonight. And who knows? Maybe we can convince Wayne Dawkins to suit up for the team for one of our games when he comes to visit the school. The letters did go out, right?” asked Mr. Roberts.
“Mrs. Orr mailed them a couple of weeks ago,” I said.
First she’d photocopied and marked them all. I got a level four. So did Kia.
When she first found out that most of us were sending letters to the same place, she seemed a bit angry. No, that wasn’t right—she seemed very annoyed. I started to explain why Mr. Roberts said it was okay, and then I remembered what he had said to me. I told her I was sorry if we did it wrong and it was all my fault. Amazingly, after that she seemed okay with everything. It worked! I still didn’t know how it would work with a girlfriend or wife, but it seemed to work pretty well with teachers.
“With or without Wayne Dawkins, we’ll get by,” Mr. Roberts said. “We’re just lucky to have two co-captains who aren’t going to quit or let anybody else quit.”
“Right.”
“No matter how bad it gets,” he added.
“How bad could it get?” I asked.
He didn’t answer except to shrug his shoulders— which was, I guess, an answer. I knew we were going to find out, starting with tonight’s game.
I stood and sang along with the national anthem. I turned ever so slightly so I could see Lailah but nobody could see that I was looking at her.
She was wearing another new outfit. She seemed to be in something different every day. Wow…that was scary. Not that she had that many clothes but that I noticed them. I actually knew her clothing. Worse still, I knew which of her clothes I liked. Either I was starting to like girls or I was becoming one.
Lailah looked my way and smiled. I quickly looked away. The anthem ended and I slumped into my seat, glad to be out of her sight.
The announcements followed. There were the usual ones—including a reminder to stay off the field and to be careful of the equipment the men were using to fix it. The final announcement got my attention.
“And we wish our Clark Boulevard Cougars good luck tonight in their first game of the season,” our principal, Mr. Waldman, said.
A little cheer came from our class and an echo from other classes down the hall.
“We hope for another undefeated season. Go Clark Cougars!”
The cheering was even louder. Oh great, just what we needed was to raise the expectations. The way we were playing, the only time we’d be undefeated was before tonight’s game started. I’d have to enjoy that until then because we weren’t going to enjoy much about this season.
“Okay, let’s get to work,” Mrs. Orr said.
She wasn’t wasting any time at all this morning.
“I’m happy to say that we received our first reply from our business letters,” she said.
For a split second I got excited, thinking it was the Raptors, but then I remembered that Ashley had written to her father. I had to figure that even if he did find her as annoying as the rest of us, he’d still write her back, and fast.
“Or more accurately,” Mrs. Orr said, “we received a reply to twenty-two of your letters.”
“The Raptors wrote back!” I exclaimed, practically jumping out of my seat.
Everybody started to cheer, and Mrs. Orr silenced everybody by raising her hand slightly.
“What does it say?” Kia asked.
“Nick, since you started all of this, why don’t you read the letter to the class,” Mrs. Orr said.
I jumped to my feet. Normally reading out loud in front of the class would rank pretty low on my priority list, but not reading this letter.
You could have heard a pin drop as I took the letter from Mrs. Orr. Right up on the top of the page was a big Raptors emblem—official Raptors paper. Pretty darn classy. I cleared my throat and then took a deep breath.
“‘Dear Clark Boulevard Students,’ ” I read.
“‘ Thank you so much for your letters to our organization. It sounds like Clark has some big Raptors fans and wonderful students.’ ”
There was another cheer from the class. I cleared my throat to silence everybody.
“‘Because you are such big Raptors fans, we wanted to respond to you as soon as possible. Thank you very much for your kind invitation for Wayne Dawkins and the rest of the Raptors to come to your school. It was particularly kind of you to offer them a pizza lunch—pizza is Wayne’s favorite food.’ ”
I looked at Kia and we exchanged smiles. We both knew that already—which was why we’d both mentioned that in our letters to the Raptors. I went back to the letter.
“‘And since you are all such big fans I know you’ll understand when I tell you that unfortunately Wayne has to decline your offer—’ ”
I stopped reading and looked at Mrs. Orr. “Declined…as in he’s not coming?”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“Are any of the Raptors coming?” I asked.
“Please continue reading,” she said.
I didn’t want to read anything anymore, but what choice did I have?
“‘Every year we receive literally hundreds of visit requests from individuals, schools and community organizations. Unfortunately the players can’t make all those visits and still have time to practice and play basketball, so we are not able to send a player to your school this year.’ ”
We were getting nobody. Not even the twelfth guy who just sat on the bench. Nobody.
“Finish the letter, please, Nick.”
I didn’t want to finish the letter. I just wanted to slip away away where nobody would be looking at me, but I knew finishing the letter was my only way out. There were just a couple more lines.
“‘We know you’re all great Raptors fans and will continue to support the team. Sincerely, Christina Allison, Director of Community and Public Relations.’ ”
I slinked back to my desk, eyes down, not wanting to look at anybody. I felt awful. It was the sort of feeling you get when you miss a free throw—an important free throw—and every eye in the gym is on you.
I was still holding the letter. I wanted to ball it up and throw it in the garbage can—but I’d probably miss. Besides, I couldn’t do that. I slipped it into my binder, where I wouldn’t have to see it.
“Thank you for reading the letter, Nick,” Mrs. Orr said. “And that certainly was a successful letter.”
“Did I miss something?” Kia asked. “Just how was that successful?”
I wanted to know the answer to that question myself. Probably everybody in the class wanted to hear what she was going to say.
“While no Raptor is going to come to the school, that doesn’t mean that your letters were unsuccessful,” Mrs. Orr said.
“But how was it successful?” Kia asked again.
“The business received your letter, understood your request and replied to your request.”
“But they said no,” I said.
“They did say no, but they did reply, and that’s the thing that made your letters successful.”
I guess anything could be a success if you aimed low enough, and this was pretty well as low as you could aim.