“Eduardo Lopez?” I said, reading the screen. “That’s Super-Size from Millwood.”
“Why would Coach Acevedo put Eduardo ‘Super-Size’ Lopez on Clifton United?” Red asked.
“He’s friends with Mega-Man. That’s the kid who knocked out Keith during fall ball.” I pointed to the next name. “Bomani Taylor? That’s Elbows from Millwood. That kid plays so dirty.”
“Why would Coach Acevedo put Bomani ‘Elbows’ Taylor on Clifton United?”
I wondered the same thing as Red. Yeah, Super-Size and Elbows could ball, but they both played for Millwood. No one liked those kids. Why would Coach Acevedo put them on Clifton United?
“There’s only twelve kids on the roster,” I said, counting the names. “One, two, three, four of them are girls. Holly Winston’s on the team. That’s Speedy from Rolling Hills.”
“Holly ‘Speedy’ Winston ran you off the court, Mason Irving.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” I shoulder-bumped him. “Zoe Reynolds and Mimi Santos from Yeager are the other two girls.”
I didn’t know much about them. When we played Yeager in the fall, Red and I weren’t there because of what happened with Operation Food Fight. I was thinking they had to be decent since we lost. Plus, they were fifth-grade girls. They had to be humongous and ginormous.
I checked the last two names—Hudson Moss from Edgemont and Julian Crawford from Harrison. Hudson was a big body, and Headband (that’s what they called Julian because he always wore one) could shoot and play D.
In my head, I replayed Coach Acevedo’s words: We’re counting on you big-time, Rip. We need you to pick up where you left off at the end of fall ball. You’re Clifton United’s floor leader, our team general. I’m going to be pushing you hard, real hard.
“This is going to be sick!” I said, pounding the carpet.
“We’re the Clifton United All-Stars,” Red said.
“Yes! The Clifton United All-Stars!”