CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CLOSE SHAVE

close shave

noun \klohz shayv\

—something achieved (or escaped) by a narrow margin

After school on Tuesday, Jonathan, Lucille, Jolina, and I met once more, this time at Jonathan’s house, to finalize plans for our display and to divide out jobs for getting everything done.

“I have a special prop I’ll bring in on Thursday,” said Jolina.

“What is it?” said Jonathan.

“It’s a secret. But I know you’re gonna love it!”

“I want to do the display layout,” Lucille said, bouncing on her toes. “I love doing artsy stuff. Just give me the spreadsheets and photographs and I’ll put everything together.”

A wave of panic flooded over me. The thought of Lucille putting our display together made me break out in a cold sweat. Her artwork was not a lot better than her work with eye shadow. And she wasn’t exactly what I would call the world’s greatest speller. She’d even misspelled the word “spelling” on our last vocab test. Plus, if I was crazy clean and organized, she was the polar opposite: crazy sloppy and cluttered. I knew this was supposed to be a group project, but I couldn’t see how letting Lucille misspell half the words on our display board would be helpful to anyone—especially me. My math grade and summer depended on a perfect display.

I looked over at Jolina and Jonathan, pleading with my eyes for them to realize the danger in handing over the poster to Lucille, but they seemed oblivious to the fact that she could destroy everything we’d worked so hard on.

I would need to talk to Lucille later.

Jolina picked up the calculations we’d all done for the animal life spans and looked at Jonathan and me. “We need these turned into spreadsheets and we also need pictures of the different animals to place near each one.”

“I’ll print out the pictures,” Jonathan and I said at the same time. We looked at each other.

“Rock, Paper, Scissors?” he said.

“No way. I’m the world’s biggest loser with Rock, Paper, Scissors. I’m sure not about to gamble with that game.”

“I’ll shoot ya for it,” Jonathan said.

“Excuse me?”

“Basketball,” he said. “I challenge you to a game of HORSE. The loser has to do the spreadsheets.”

“Come on! Her arm’s in a cast—she can’t play basketball,” Lucille said.

Like heck I couldn’t.

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. “Are you good at basketball?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

I thought back to when we first went to his house. I’d passed his room on my way to the bathroom and poked my head in to see what a boy’s room looked like—not having any siblings, I was curious. I remembered a large GO ARMY flag was pinned above his bed and his walls were plastered with all kinds of basketball posters. He also had a basketball laundry hamper—the kind where you shoot your dirty clothes through a hoop and into the basket. There were clothes all over the floor, so he was either really sloppy or a really bad basketball player. Considering he was part of a military family, I couldn’t see him being sloppy.

While I wasn’t the greatest athlete, my dad and I had shot hoops since I could walk. True, I did have a cast on and my shots might look ugly, but if I could avoid doing the math spreadsheets, it would be worth any potential humiliation on the court. “You’re on.”

“You sure?” Jonathan asked. “I was partly kidding … I don’t want you to hurt your arm or anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

“I’ll referee,” Lucille offered.

We finished off a bag of cheese puffs and went outside. By the time Jolina had to go home, I had H, O, and R. Jonathan had H, O, R, and S. The funny thing was that I was actually shooting better than I normally did. Because my right arm was in a cast, I was forced to really concentrate and slow down before each shot.

“Get him out, Ella!” Jolina called over her shoulder as she left.

“Not likely,” said Jonathan, squaring off for a shot. He lobbed the ball high and swooshed it through the net. “I’m planning on getting a basketball scholarship.”

“No problem,” I sneered, dribbling the ball back to where he’d shot from.

I missed.

“Ha!” Jonathan said. “We’re tied. Now, who’s going down first?”

I tossed him the ball. “Take your best shot, Johnny-basketball.”

He walked to the end of his driveway and stood next to his mailbox. “You have to shoot from back here.”

“Only if you make it,” I reminded him.

“Oh, I’ll make it.” He judged the distance and heaved the ball through the air. It ricocheted off the backboard and flew into Lucille’s yard.

Lucille and I turned and busted out laughing as Jonathan ran to retrieve his ball. He came back smiling and tossed it to me. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Like I always say, desperate times called for desperate measures. It looked as though I would have to pull out the “hop n’ hook it.” Whenever Dad and I needed a break from “real” basketball, we’d make up silly shots. I knew I’d risk looking ridiculous in front of Jonathan doing it, but hopefully I could get him out.

“Okay. You have to hop in a circle three times on one foot and then throw a left handed hook shot.” I began bouncing on my right foot.

“What kind of shot is that?” Jonathan taunted.

“A you-can’t-make-it kind,” I replied as I released the ball into the air. It circled around the rim and dropped through the net.

Jonathan’s head tipped back. “Aww, man!” He dribbled the ball a couple times and wobbled on one foot. He bounced awkwardly around in a circle three times and tossed the ball toward the hoop. At least I assumed that’s what he was aiming for since it hit nothing but air.

Lucille jumped up and cheered. I slapped her a high-five. Jonathan walked over with the ball tucked under his arm. “I can’t believe I just got beat in basketball by a girl with a broken arm.” He grinned and shook his head. “I’ll have to try to take my dad out using that shot. I’m pretty sure he’s never bounced on one foot in a circle before shooting.”

Lucille’s mom poked her head out of her front door. “Lucille, time to come in. We have to leave for your sister’s piano recital soon.”

“I better head home, too,” I said. “Have fun with those spreadsheets, Jonathan!”

He pretended to belly laugh and slapped his knee. “Haha—you’re so funny. Just make sure everyone has their calculations to me by tomorrow.”

“I’ll do you a favor—I’ll call Jolina and Lucille to tell them. I love being helpful,” I joked.