THE line-up was in the paper the next day. Kim clipped it out as another treasure for his scrapbook.
One sentence was in fine print about a Rocket player who had scored the most points. Another sentence told about Allan and Jimmie both scoring eight points for the Arrows. Kim read every word, hoping there might be something written about him. But there wasn’t.
He looked at the clipping again.
| fg | ft | tp | |
| Tikula f | 2 | 3 | 7 |
| Burdette f | 3 | 2 | 8 |
| Vargo c | 3 | 2 | 8 |
| Leonard g | 1 | 0 | 2 |
| O’Connor g | 1 | 1 | 3 |
| Jordan f | 0 | 0 | 0 |
10 |
8 |
28 |
Well, at least he was playing as much as the others, even though he didn’t practice as often.
If he could only practice more he’d make more baskets. Maybe Coach Stickles would put him in as forward.
But he—he had to attend choir practice, and practice singing at home. That was what took his time. Suppose he did not sing. He could attend all the basketball practices then. He could develop a good eye for shots. You don’t have to be tall to be a good shot. Jimmie Burdette wasn’t tall, was he?
Kim’s mother came into the room. She had on a dark blue dress with a black patent-leather belt around the waist, and the new blue shoes Daddy had bought her for Christmas.
Kim thought of how much she loved to hear him sing. He remembered how she looked when she sat at the piano playing for him. She looked as happy as on her birthday when Daddy gave her a gift. Kim knew that no matter what happened, he would never give up singing.
His mother asked, “Don’t you think you’d better get dressed?”
His eyes widened. “Where are we going?”
She smiled. “It’s a surprise,” she said. “Get dressed. We’ll tell you later.”
He didn’t like to be teased. It made him excited.
“Oh, Mom!” he cried. “Please tell me!”
Then his dad came in. He had on a white shirt and a flashy yellow necktie. He was holding three tickets in his hand.
Kim’s heart jumped. Now he knew!
“We’re going to the Lions-Philadelphia game!” he cried.
“Right!” laughed his father.