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

you away from this place,” he says. “Kind of like how now, I can’t keep you away from your phone.”

“Ha ha,” I say, my head buried in my phone.

Neither of us mentions the fact that I haven’t played much basketball in the last few months, ever since I decided to leave the AAU team. When I told my parents my decision, they were really upset for about a week. They didn’t think I meant it. They thought I was just doing it because I was mad at them for getting Carter’s dad fired.

But then after a while, they realized something.

They realized I was happier.

And slowly, they accepted it.

My dad pulls the car into the parking lot. “Are you just hanging out with friends? Playing a pickup game? What’s this about?” The curiosity over why I grabbed a basketball and asked for a ride to the park is just killing him.

But I’m not about to give it away. “Just felt like shooting around,” I say.

“Okay. Well, I gotta work later, so Mom is going to pick you up.”

“Cool, thanks for the ride.”

“Have fun,” he says.

As I walk down the hill to the courts, I realize that I’ve never heard my dad say those two words to me in relation to basketball before.

I see Carter, and I walk over. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He looks around. “Man, I haven’t been here in a long time.”

“We had some great games here back in the day, remember?”

“Yeah, we mixed it up pretty good.”

I stick out my hand. “Good luck.”

“Same.”

We shake.

CARTER

I gather up the team.

“Hey everyone,” I announce, “Amir is going to be captain today.”

Amir blinks. “For real?”

“For real. You deserve it.”

I start to walk away with the other guys, but Amir puts his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, yo, uh, Carter?”

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t, so I say, “What’s up? You good with being captain today?”

“Yeah totally.” He bends down and starts double-lacing his sneakers. “Anyway, uh, I just wanted to say it’s good to see you back on the floor.”

“Don’t I know it. Thanks, bro.”

“You know,” he says, “you got a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Yeah, man, the way you play this game . . . you just . . . you know, you got the thing.”

“Thanks dude, I appreciate that,” I say. “You want to, like, form a layup line or something?”

Amir finishes his lacing, straightens up, and looks me right in the eye. “I know you got mixed feelings about basketball, and I get that, honestly, I do . . . but man, it could be your ticket out.”

I laugh. “Yeah, my mom’s been saying that forever.”

“I know she has, and I know it’s a ton of pressure, but you gotta realize, a lot of people would kill for that opportunity. A lot of people, myself included. And when you fell, man, that opportunity could have been taken away from you. But it wasn’t. You got another chance. Another chance, man.”

He pauses, but I don’t move. For some reason, I know he’s not quite done.

“Don’t waste it, is all I’m saying.”

I nod. “I won’t, man,” I tell him. “I promise I won’t.” And I mean it.

We smack hands, and go out to warm up.

AUSTIN

Everyone’s here except Clay. I start to think maybe he’s not coming.

“I don’t know, PJ,” Kevin says. “Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it.”

I shake my head. “Nah.” But actually, I’m thinking the same thing. I check my phone. No messages.

We start warming up on one end of the court, doing layup drills, dribbling drills, outside shots. I look down at the other end of the court. Carter’s guys look really strong.

I start taking a few free throws when Eric points up the hill. “Look!”

Clay is walking toward us. He’s got his basketball stuff on. Now he’s running.

And he looks ready to go.

ALFIE:

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and it’s a beautiful day for outdoor basketball. And, well, to be perfectly honest, I’m actually not calling this game live. I’m shooting video on my cellphone, which I will edit into a YouTube video for later. Mr. Rashad told me the best broadcasters get their starts by doing stuff like this, so that’s what I’m going to do! The players are taking the court, and we’re just about set to begin . . .

AUSTIN

After we warm up for a while, I go to center court and yell over to Carter, “Should we do captains?” By that I mean meeting, shaking hands, talking a little bit about the rules. Usually the refs organize all that, but we don’t have any refs today.

Carter nods, but doesn’t walk toward me. Instead, another kid comes up—tall and serious-looking. I recognize him from the girls game disaster. We shake hands.

“Are you . . . are you the captain?” I ask him. “What about Carter?”

“Carter named me captain today,” the kid says.

“Oh, cool,” I say, even though I’m confused. “Well, uh . . . I’m Austin.”

“I’m Amir.”

I realize it’s cool that Carter named him captain, and then I get mad at myself for not thinking to do the same thing for Clay.

“Great,” I say. “Well, I guess we should talk about a few rules.”

“Sure. One time-out for each team per half?”

“Yeah cool. Sub whenever you want?”

“Yeah cool. Two thirty-minute halves, running time, cool?”

“Yeah cool.”

Amir tugs at his shirt. I realize he’s a little nervous. Then I realize I’m a little nervous.

“Okay,” I say. “Well, uh, have a good game.”

“You too.”

We shake hands again and go back to our own halves of the court. I circle up the guys. “Clay, take the tip. Kevin, Charlie, Eric, Toph, you guys start.”

They stare at me.

“You’re not starting?” Clay asks.

“Nope. Bring it in.”

Everyone puts their hands in a big pile. I put mine in last.

“Let’s have fun, on three.”

The guys all grin.

“One, two, three, LET’S HAVE FUN!”

ALFIE:

Amir Watkins wins the tip, and we’re underway! Carter Haswell gathers the ball in the backcourt, crosses into the frontcourt, zips a pass over to Lucas Burdeen, who goes up for the shot, no good, Sham Collins gets the offensive