Rivals by Tommy Greenwald (the speed reading book txt) 📗

we’ll have a tie game. She bounces the ball, takes a deep breath . . . the crowd is quiet . . . she makes the first! It’s a one-point game! Jackie gets set for the second shot . . . oh what was that? What was that? Someone just yelled an obscenity . . . it sounded like it came from one of the student sections . . . the crowd has suddenly erupted again . . . both student sections are screaming . . . the refs have stopped the game as several teachers and administrators rush over to try and calm things down . . . it looks like there is some pushing and shoving going on . . . this could get ugly, folks . . .

CARTER

The teachers keep a close eye on us during the fourth quarter, but I still send some glares over at the kid who called me a cheater. He doesn’t look at me once. Meanwhile, Janeece is lighting up the place, hitting shots from all over the floor. But the North girls hang tough, and it’s going down to the wire.

Then, with, like, a minute to go in the game and South up by two, someone on North drives to the hoop. Janeece steps in front of her, establishes position, and the North girl runs right over her. A total charge. But instead, the ref calls a blocking foul on Janeece. Which means she fouls out of the game, and two shots for the North girl. It might have been the worst call I’ve ever seen in my life.

And of course, the parents start screaming at the referees.

“THE REFS SUCK!”

“WHAT GAME ARE YOU WATCHING?”

“YOU’RE A DISGRACE!”

And way worse than that, if you can believe it.

Sure enough, the North parents start yelling back at the South parents.

“LEAVE THE REFS ALONE!”

“STOP YELLING, THEY’RE JUST DOING THEIR JOB!”

“YOU’RE THE DISGRACE!”

Lucas elbows me in the ribs. “Yo, how come the teachers aren’t telling them to settle down, the way they told us to?”

I laugh. “I know, right? I mean, where do they think we get it from?”

Janeece goes to the sideline. She looks like she’s about to cry. I have a weird feeling in my stomach, and I wonder to myself, what’s that about? Does that mean I really do like this girl? I should ask her out, I say to myself, maybe to a movie. I wonder if she likes movies?

Then I start laughing at myself. I’m sitting here watching Janeece look so sad on the sidelines, and all I can think about is going on a date with her!

I’m about to ask Sham what’s wrong with me when I hear a voice from the North section yell, “THAT’S RIGHT, NUMBER 23, YOU’RE DONE! GO BACK TO WASHING DISHES AT MY COUNTRY CLUB!”

Hold up.

Janeece is number 23.

I shoot up out of my seat, stomp across the aisle and scream, “WHO SAID THAT?” I’m not thinking, I’m just acting. Or more like reacting. “COME ON, WHO’S THE COWARD WHO SAID THAT?”

People behind us are telling me to be quiet, and the North girl is about to take the foul shots to try and tie the game. I’m not sure what to do when Amir suddenly stands up and starts hollering at Austin. “Aren’t you the captain of this team? You going to let your team talk trash like that? You going to let your boys disrespect this girl? That’s pathetic.”

Austin refuses to look at Amir. “I don’t know who said it,” Austin says. “And whoever it was didn’t mean anything. Everyone makes stupid comments sometimes, don’t sweat it.”

Someone behind us says, “Sit down, you’re blocking the view.”

I turn to Austin. “Come on, man, who said it?”

“I don’t know who said it! Can we just move on? There’s, like, a minute left in the game.”

I shake my head. “You guys talk smack all game long, but that crossed the line, man. That crossed the line.”

Suddenly, someone at the far end of the row stands up and says, “I said it, okay? I said it. I mean, who fouls out of a close game with a minute left to go? That’s pretty dumb.”

I point at the guy. “You need to stop talking. Right now.”

The guy grins—the grin of a rich kid who thinks he can say and do anything and get away it. “I’ll tell you what,” he says. “She’s a cute girl, so if you think I was so mean, then maybe you can introduce us after the game and I can apologize to her up close and personal.”

That’s all it takes.

My blood starts to boil, and I decide I’m going to wipe the smirk off that kid’s face myself.

I start climbing over the North kids, all of them, stepping on some, ignoring the complaints as they try to push me off, and I get so close to the jerk’s face that I’m pretty sure some of my spit gets in his eye.

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE F UP!”

Except I don’t say F. I say the whole word.

And I don’t exactly say it, I scream it.

And I scream it when the whole rest of the gym is silent, as the player is about to take her second foul shot, to try and tie the game.

AUSTIN

Well, that pretty much does it. After Carter swears at Chase at the top of his lungs, it’s like a stick of dynamite whose long fuse has just run out. Everything explodes. Chase jumps up and pushes Carter. Carter pushes him back. A bunch of South guys run across the aisle into our section, and there’s more pushing and shoving and yelling. The girls on the court are standing there, not sure what to do. The refs leave the court. Some fans around us start to scatter, while others try to break it up. A bunch of adults are rushing toward us. I want to leave, but I’m trapped in the chaos.

It occurs to me that this could get a lot worse before it gets better.

CARTER

I see Mr. Rashad and Principal Marshak running up the bleachers, heading straight for us. Alfie