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

all good.”

“Is it, Carter? Is it all good?” Coach Benny leans into me. He smells like cologne and that unlit cigar he always has in his mouth during games. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you boys this, but basketball isn’t going to make your lives better. School is going to make your lives better. Studying is going to make your lives better. Getting good grades is going to make your lives better. Planning for the future is going to make your lives better. Carter, you’re one hell of a basketball player, there’s no doubt about that, but even you—without school, you got nothing. You understand me?”

I nod about twelve times. “Yes, sir.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“And I don’t know why this needs to be said,” Coach Benny adds, “but if you’re having trouble with math, then get extra help. Because if you fail, you’ll have some real problems, not the least of which is you won’t be able to stay on the team. Any of you boys want to see that happen?”

We all say some version of “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” says Coach Benny. Then his eyes turn to Eddy. “You’re smart at math, right?”

“I guess so,” Eddy stammers.

Coach Benny gives Eddy one of his classic glares. “Don’t guess. Be. And help this boy pass math.” Then he walks away, leaving his cologne/cigar smell behind.

No one says anything else as we go into the cafeteria and sit down. Eventually, Eddy looks at me and says, “Well, do you understand the assignment, or not?”

I don’t know why he’s asking. We all know the answer.

“Uh, no,” I say.

Eddy sighs, then gets out his notebook. “Fine, I’ll help you. Again.”

I hesitate. “Now? At lunch?”

Sham glares at me. “Are you serious? You heard what Coach Benny said. And homework is half the grade, remember?”

I pull out my notebook. As Eddy starts talking. I pretend to understand what he’s talking about, but basically I just do exactly what he tells me to do.

I’m pretty sure I’m not fooling anybody.

ALFIE

At lunch, I sit with some of the girls from the basketball team. They’re nice to me, even though they don’t quite treat me as one of the gang. Which makes sense, since I’m not.

Janeece steals one of my fries. “So, Alfie. You think Carter was really flirting with me?”

“I have no idea.” The last thing I want is to get in the middle of that.

“Come on!” Janeece says. “You want to be this famous reporter, right? So report!”

Another girl from the team, Callie, asks me, “Alfie, who’s your best friend?”

“Um, I’m not sure?”

Callie smirks. “I know who your best friend is. Sports. Sports is your best friend, right?”

She laughs, so I laugh. “Maybe,” I answer, because I don’t know what else to say.

Callie and Janeece turn back to their teammates, and I look over at the next table, where Carter is eating with his pals. I notice Eddy Dixon sliding his notebook toward Carter, then Carter opening up his own notebook and writing. Eddy might be helping him, or Carter might just be copying Eddy’s homework, but before I can really tell, Janeece steals two more of my French fries.

“Hey, you guys,” she announces, “Alfie thinks Carter Haswell likes me!”

I’m about to protest that’s not true, but I realize no one will believe me, and all the girls are laughing, and it feels good to be a part of something, so I end up just laughing too.

5:47 pm

Clay

CLAY? HEY THIS IS ALFIE JENKS,

SPORTS REPORTER FROM WALTHORNE SOUTH.

SORRY TO DM YOU OUT OF THE BLUE

BUT I JUST WANTED TO ASK YOU A QUICK QUESTION.

CLAY?

CLAY, YOU THERE?

YEAH I’M HERE A QUESTION ABOUT WHAT

OH HEY! THANKS FOR WRITING BACK.

WHAT’S UP

HOW ARE YOU FEELING?

NOT GREAT

OH MAN I’M SO SORRY.

YOU PLAYED SUCH A GREAT GAME THE

OTHER NIGHT.

HEY, YOU KNOW I WAS JUST WONDERING,

I THOUGHT I NOTICED YOU LIMPING EARLIER IN

THE GAME,

WERE YOU HURT?

NAH I WAS FINE

OH OKAY COOL.

BUT IT JUST SEEMED LIKE YOU WERE LIMPING

A LITTLE,

EVEN THOUGH YOU WERE PLAYING

TOTALLY AMAZING,

I MEAN HOLY MOLY YOU WERE LIGHTING IT UP

THANKS

SO YOU WEREN’T HURT BEFORE?

YOU ASKED ME THAT ALREADY LIKE THREE TIMES

I KNOW I’M SORRY I WAS JUST WONDERING

CLAY YOU STILL THERE?

CLAY?

I DON’T KNOW, I GOT A LITTLE BANGED UP AT PRACTICE

JEEZ I THOUGHT SO HOW BAD

NOT THAT BAD

BUT YOU DECIDED TO PLAY ANYWAY?

YEAH IT WAS A BIG GAME

WHY DID YOU PLAY?

WAS IT YOUR IDEA OR DID SOMEONE TALK YOU

INTO IT?

WHAT IS THIS, LAW AND ORDER?

HAHAHA NO NO NO

I’M JUST TRYING TO GET THE STORY.

MR. RASHAD SAYS ALWAYS GET THE STORY

WHO?

NEVER MIND, THAT WAS DUMB,

SO YOU’RE SAYING YOU DIDN’T FEEL ANY PRESSURE

TO PLAY?

I MEAN, BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY YOU’RE THE

BEST PLAYER

AND IT WAS THE FIRST GAME OF THE SEASON

AGAINST YOUR ARCH RIVALS!

NAH

I MEAN, I GUESS MAYBE A LITTLE

WAS IT THE COACH?

IS YOUR COACH SUPER INTENSE?

I HEARD YOU WERE ARGUING WITH ONE OF YOUR

TEAMMATES AT HALFTIME,

WAS HE TELLING YOU NOT TO PLAY?

WAS HE TELLING YOU NOT TO LISTEN TO

THE COACH?

NOT EXACTLY

I GOTTA GO

OKAY

THANKS

YOU ASK A LOT OF QUESTIONS

YOU SHOULD GET A JOB AT ESPN OR SOMETHING

HAHAHAHA THAT WOULD BE SO AWESOME

MAYBE SOMEDAY!!!

AUSTIN

When I was ten, and my younger sister, Liv, was eight, my parents got us a private basketball coach named Mr. Cashen.

“Call me Coach Cash,” he said, so we did.

Coach Cash played in college with my dad and ran basketball summer camps for some sneaker company, so he was kind of a big deal. And he was a great coach. He taught us shooting technique, ball handling, how to defend the pick-and-roll, what pass to throw in what situation, the best way to box out under the basket.

He taught us everything but height and speed.

It turned out my little sister didn’t need to be taught either one of those—Liv was really tall for a girl and super quick. So after the first few weeks of lessons, my