Andi knew something was wrong when Jeff sprinted past her—and the rest of the girls’ team—as soon as the boys had done their post-practice cheer. She guessed that he hadn’t been elected captain and was disappointed by the vote.
She had no illusions about whether Coach Josephson was going to pick her as captain. She didn’t even know at that moment if she would be starting, although she couldn’t see any way that she, Maria, and Eleanor wouldn’t start. It was clear to everyone that they were the three best players on the team.
The other spots were—or should be—up for grabs, although Andi guessed that Jamie Bronson would start, if only because she was the most physical player on the team. Bronson had hands of stone, which made her an offensive liability, but her sheer strength made her a good rebounder and someone who, when she did catch the ball cleanly, was tough to stop inside. Lisa Carmichael should also start. At least if Andi were picking the lineup—which she wasn’t.
There were no clues on Monday who the starters would be. Coach Josephson continued to use different combinations throughout practice—which made no sense to Andi. The starters—whoever they were—needed to work together to begin to get some feel for one another. Apparently that notion didn’t appear in any of the coaching books their coach had read.
At five fifteen on the dot, Coach Josephson blew her whistle sharply. Everyone had been shooting free throws without threat of running suicides for a change. The players ran to the jump circle.
“Good practice today, girls,” Coach J said. “We play here tomorrow at four o’clock. I want everyone in the locker room by three thirty. We’ll let you know then who will be starting. Coach Axelson and I will make our final decisions tonight.”
Andi found herself wondering why those decisions couldn’t have been made at least a day earlier to give the starters some time to work together as a unit. She glanced at Eleanor, who gave a little eye roll as if to say, “What is going on here?”
Fortunately, the coach didn’t see her.
“One thing we have decided on is who is going to be our captain,” Coach Josephson added. “I think we have several excellent leaders on this team, but I think you’ll all agree there’s one girl who has stood out since the first day of tryouts.”
She paused as if she were about to announce who had been thrown off the island on one of those reality shows.
“So, congratulations to our team captain”—another pause … seriously?—“Jamie Bronson!”
Bronson’s clique cheered; the non-clique four clapped politely. Andi, Eleanor, Maria, and Lisa almost got their hands together but didn’t quite make it there. Coach J had to notice but chose not to comment.
Instead, she asked Bronson if she wanted to say anything to her teammates.
Bronson, showing what kind of leader she would be, said, “Let’s go out and win tomorrow!”
Great speech, Andi thought.
Then Coach Josephson suggested everyone come together for a cheer. “On three,” she said, “win!”
The response to that was mixed.
As they walked off the court, Andi said quietly to Eleanor, Maria, and Lisa, “No wonder she picked Bronson. They’re equally articulate.”
“Hey, they both think winning’s a good idea,” Maria said with a grin.
They left it at that.
Jeff was as aware as any sixth grader that the preferred method of communicating among his peers was texting. But he wanted to talk directly to Andi that night, so after dinner, he texted her to see if it was okay to call.
Finishing homework, she texted back. Give me fifteen minutes.
He patiently waited sixteen minutes and then called.
“You looked upset after your practice,” she said. “Who got elected captain?”
“I did,” Jeff said. Then, before she got the wrong idea, he added, “And Arlow did. The vote was a tie. We’re cocaptains.”
Andi understood. “Not exactly ideal,” she said. “Who do you think voted for him? None of his posse from soccer’s on the team.”
“I know,” Jeff said. “I can’t figure it out. I kinda wish Coach C had just named a captain the way Coach J did in soccer. I’m pretty sure he would have picked me.”
“Well, having the coach pick a captain didn’t work out so well for us,” Andi said.
Jeff realized he hadn’t given any thought at all to what Andi was dealing with on the girls team. He felt embarrassed.
“I forgot she was naming a captain today. How bad?”
“Bad as it gets,” Andi answered. “Bronson.”
Jeff was up to date to on Bronson and the mean-girl faction of Andi’s team.
“Jeez, I’m sorry about that,” he said.
“It gets better,” Andi said. “She didn’t even name the starters for tomorrow. Said she’d let us know before the game. Whoever the starters are, they haven’t practiced together at all.”
“I guess having your starters work together isn’t in any of the books your coach read,” Jeff said.
Andi laughed. It was amazing how often she and Jeff thought exactly alike.
“Camden’s a jock school, in every sport from what I’ve heard,” she said. “And they’ve had sixth-grade teams in New Jersey for years before they started them here. I suspect they might kill us.”
The way the schedule worked, the boys and girls teams played the same school on a given day. When the boys traveled, the girls played at home. When the girls traveled, the boys played at home. The same was true for the varsity teams—they played after the sixth-grade games. The only difference was that the varsity teams played thirty-two minutes—four eight-minute quarters—the way high school teams did. The sixth graders only played twenty-four minutes—four six-minute quarters.
“Well, I’m not exactly optimistic about our game, either,” Jeff said. “I mean, Coach C and Coach B know what they’re doing, but we aren’t exactly a close-knit team right now.”
“You guys are lifelong friends compared to us,” Andi said. She had a positive thought. “Hey, we got off to a terrible start in soccer and ended up winning the conference. Maybe that’ll happen in basketball, too. Slow start, then get better.”
“We got better in soccer because Coach J finally started playing you,” Jeff said.
“And you,” Andi said quickly.
“Yeah, true,” Jeff said. “Maybe we should suggest to our coaches that we start the season on the bench.”
“Benchwarmers forever!” Andi said.
They both laughed. At least, Jeff thought, they both seemed to feel a little bit better.
Any good feelings Andi might have had quickly vanished soon after she walked into the locker room the next afternoon.
On the whiteboard in the corner of the room, in bright red marker, was the word Starters.
Below it, in the same red marker, were five names:
Bronson
Dove
Jolie
Mearns
Medley
Andi gasped. It had never occurred to her that she wouldn’t start. Coach J was starting Bronson and two of her pals—Alayne Jolie and Jenny Mearns. Eleanor Dove and Maria Medley clearly deserved to start, but so did Andi and Lisa Carmichael.
She felt an arm go around her shoulder. “She’s crazy,” Eleanor said. “Unless she’s planning to sub you and Lisa after about thirty seconds.”
“I doubt that’s the plan,” Andi said. “I know she can’t stand me, but what the heck did Lisa do wrong?”
“I’d say being friends with you, but then why are Maria and I starting?”
“Maybe because she’d rather not lose by fifty,” Andi said.
Before Eleanor could answer, the door opened and the two coaches walked in.
“Okay, everyone,” Coach Josephson said. “You see the starters. I would expect all of you who aren’t starting to play—at some point. How much will probably depend on how the game’s going or foul trouble. It will also depend on how much support you show for your teammates from the bench.”
She looked directly at Andi. “Those of you not dressed yet, you’ve got five minutes. I want everyone on the floor for warm-ups at three forty. Bronson, make sure they’re all ready to go by then. Got that?”
“Sure, Coach,” Bronson said. “You bet.”
The coaches walked out. Bronson whirled and pointed a finger at Andi. “If you’re not in uniform in five, Carillo, I’m going to suggest you not suit up.”
It was Maria who answered. “Just take care of yourself, Bronson,” she said. “Let the coach pick on Andi. She doesn’t need your help.”
Bronson took a step in Maria’s direction, but Eleanor stepped in between them. Bronson was wider than Eleanor, but Eleanor was probably four inches taller.
Bronson stopped. “Oh yeah, I forgot you come equipped with a bodyguard,” she said, staring straight at Eleanor. “That’s the way you people work, huh?”
If Bronson was looking to start a fight, she’d picked the right words. It wasn’t Eleanor who charged at her; it was Lisa Carmichael. Andi was half a step behind. It seemed as if everyone in the room was pushing and shoving: Bronson and her crew squaring off with Andi and her friends while the four neutral parties tried to pull them apart. Andi and Jenny Mearns wrestled each other to the ground before they all heard a whistle—which, in the small locker room, sounded more like ten whistles blasting at once.
They all looked up and there were the two coaches.
“What in the world is going on here?” Coach Josephson yelled. “Who started this?”
Before the finger pointing could get going, Coach Axelson stepped in.
For the first time since tryouts had started, she blew her whistle. Andi hadn’t even known she had a whistle until that moment.
The sound of the second whistle—especially given its source—got everybody’s attention.
“Girls!” she shouted. “We are on the same team—that includes everyone in this locker room. If you have issues with someone, stow it. Camden is the opponent today, not anyone in here. So just stop!”
There was dead silence. Finally, Coach Josephson said, “Everyone on the court in two minutes. Any more fighting, no questions asked, the people involved don’t play today.”
She turned and walked out. Andi pulled free from Mearns and ran to her locker to get dressed. No one said anything. Andi waited to see if Bronson was going to apologize to Eleanor and Maria.
The only thing she said was, “Everyone, hustle up. We’ve got a game to get ready for.”
Maybe so, Andi thought, but this wasn’t the end of this by any stretch of the imagination. This team was no longer just divided by cliques.
It was also divided by race. It could have been the Jets and the Sharks. Andi couldn’t think of anything worse.