Goal Line Page 4

  Tiki had to laugh. Ronde had gone from being insulted about it to using it as fuel to stoke his game. “Proud of you, Bro,” he told Ronde.

  “That’s right, that’s right,” said Ronde, nodding and flashing a big smile.

  By the end of the third quarter, the Eagles led by a score of 35–10, thanks to two eighty-yard drives featuring Tiki and Luke. The two of them took turns pounding out yards, showing no mercy to the tired Mountaineer defense, who had been on the field for most of the game and were clearly wilting in the heat.

  The fourth quarter was almost scoreless, with the Eagles finally running out of energy themselves, but in the last two minutes the Mountaineers ran off ten straight points to make the final score a respectable 35–17, but it really wasn’t as close as that.

  The party went on long after the game, the Eagles’ field swarming with fans dancing, barbecuing, and singing the team song. As soon as they’d changed into street clothes, Tiki, Ronde, and the rest of the Eagles came out to join the fun. They were in a great mood, and it showed in the way they talked.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Paco, jiggling his big body to the beat of the school band as they played a salsa number. “We are goin’ … un-de-fea-ted … nhh … nhh-nhh … oh, yeah…”

  Tiki laughed. “Take it easy, yo,” he said. “It’s only one game.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Paco sang, nodding happily at Tiki. “And we win, we win…”

  Tiki knew how he felt. It was only one game, but the easy victory sure felt a whole lot better than last year’s opening loss. In fact, they’d spent that whole season trying to dig out of the hole they’d dug themselves by losing their first two games to lesser teams.

  This year looked to be completely different. They’d beaten the lowly Mountaineers, just as expected. He and Manny had a great feel for each other’s game. Luke had become a true bruiser, and the rookie class was looking like a bunch of future all-stars.

  “You know, Paco,” Tiki said, “I don’t want to jinx anything, but I can really see us going undefeated.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Paco sang in reply. “Oh-oh-oh-yeahhhh!!”

  Just then Ronde came up to them. Tiki was dancing along with the others now. But Ronde wasn’t.

  “Cheer up, Shorty!” Paco told him. “You look like we lost the game.”

  Ronde shook his head. “No, man, but we could’ve. We didn’t play like we should. At least not in the fourth quarter.”

  “Aw, come on, Ronde,” Tiki said. “Paco’s right. Let’s celebrate, at least for today.”

  “Those guys were easy,” Ronde pointed out. “We’ve got much tougher fish to fry starting next week. If we play like this against the Rockets, we’re gonna lose. And that’s no lie.”

  Tiki stopped jiggling, and even Paco slowed it down a little. “You are a downer, man,” he told Ronde. “Why don’t you just chill?”

  “I’ll celebrate when the season’s over and we’re the undefeated champs,” Ronde replied. “And that’s the way we all should play it.”

  “Aw, man,” Paco said, frowning.

  “No, he’s right, Paco,” Tiki said, putting a hand on the big guy’s shoulder. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Ronde agreed. “We’ve got to keep our minds sharp and focused. We haven’t won anything yet, except a game we were supposed to win. We’ve got a lot of football still, and we need to win one game at a time.”

  At lunch in the cafeteria on Monday, Paco was out sick—too many hot dogs had given him a stomach problem—but all the other guys from the team were at their usual long table, kidding around with one another and talking about how great the team was.

  “We’re gonna stomp this whole league,” said Justin.

  “It’s already over, baby,” Luke agreed.

  “Done deal,” Manny chimed in.

  “Hey. Guys,” Tiki interrupted them. “Cut out the baloney.”

  “Huh?” They all looked at him, puzzled.

  “You shouldn’t be talkin’ trash like that,” he said. “It’s dangerous.”

  Tiki told them what Ronde had said about not getting ahead of themselves—about staying focused, not taking anything for granted, playing one game at a time. He could see how they listened to him, with respect and admiration, as if he were their coach, not just another player. That’s what it meant to be the team captain.

  Yes, he told them everything Ronde had said, except he didn’t tell them that it was Ronde who’d said it first.

  Ronde wasn’t there. He’d stayed late in study hall to finish writing his essay, which was due the next morning. Had he heard Tiki’s words, he surely would have taken credit for them.

  Now he came in, and after getting his food, he sat down across from Tiki, shoving himself into a tight space between Justin and Manny.

  “What’s up, guys?” he asked.

  Tiki felt the blood pounding in his ears. He sure hoped nobody would say anything about his little lecture.

  Sure enough, somebody did. “Tiki was just telling us not to get ahead of ourselves,” Manny piped up.

  “Yeah, and how we’ve got to take it one game at a time,” Justin added.

  “Really good advice, dude,” Luke put in.

  “He said all that, huh?” Ronde turned to Tiki with a hurt look in his eyes. “You come up with that all by yourself, big man?” he asked pointedly.

  Tiki was silent, embarrassed. He almost wished Ronde would tell them the truth, but Ronde said nothing. He just started eating, never taking his eyes off Tiki.

  After a few minutes Tiki couldn’t take the silent treatment anymore. “I’m going to study hall,” he told them all, getting up with his tray in one hand and his book bag slung over one shoulder. “I’ve got to go write my essay.”

  “You’re not done with that?” Manny asked.

  “I haven’t even started.” Tiki left, not daring to look at his brother.

  Why had he acted so stupidly? He felt like kicking himself. It was bad enough he was bigger than his twin. Did he have to go stealing credit for things too? Tiki made his mind up that the next time he saw any of them, he would give Ronde full credit, first thing.

  He sat at his desk in study hall and sighed. Not only did he feel awful, but the gray goo he’d eaten for lunch was now rolling over and over in his stomach.

  Tiki stared at the blank page. “Play proud,” he said to himself. “Now, what can I say about that?”

  He thought for a long moment, and then began to write:

  My mother always tells me and my twin, Ronde, to play proud. She’s talking about our football games, but her words mean so much more than that.…

  He went on writing until the bell rang. He was concentrating so hard, and writing so fast, that he barely noticed the bell. Mr. Hickey had to shake him by the shoulder to remind him that if he didn’t move, he’d be late for fifth period.

  Tiki wasn’t finished, but close enough. He could put the finishing touches on it that night before bed. More important, he liked what he’d written. Even if he got an F on it, he didn’t care. He’d given it his very best, and if that wasn’t good enough, so be it.

  After all, wasn’t that the real meaning of the saying “Play proud”?

  The next morning Tiki handed in his finished essay along with everyone else. “Thank goodness that’s over with,” he muttered as he went back to his desk.

  Little did he know how wrong he was.…

  On Thursday, the day before the Eagles’ big game against the mighty Rockets of North Side Junior High, Tiki was heading to the locker room for practice when he heard Dr. Anand calling him.

  “Tiki! Tiki Barber!” she said, waving to him from the door of her office. “Will you come here for a moment, please?”

  “Me?”

  She smiled. “Do you know any other Tiki Barbers around here?”

  “At least she isn’t mad at me,” Tiki said to himself. Going to the principal’s office wasn’t something a kid normally looked forward t
o.

  “Come in and sit down,” she told him, shutting the door behind them and taking a seat behind her desk.

  Tiki sat, and then, to his horror, he saw his essay sitting right there on her desk.

  Oh, no! Was it something he’d written? Had he used a bad word, or somehow written something stupid?

  “Tiki,” Dr. Anand began, “your essay was fascinating to read. I must say I didn’t expect this from you.”

  He felt the blood rushing to his face, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Was she about to punish him?

  “We received a lot of very good essays this week. In fact, your brother Ronde’s was one of three that won honorable mention, but yours, Tiki—yours was the best in the whole school. You’ve won first prize. Congratulations!”

  “Say what?” Tiki’s jaw dropped. He must have looked silly, because she broke out into a pleased laugh.

  “I’m amazed you’ve never shown us this talent of yours before, young man,” she said. “We all knew you were terrific at sports, and a good student, but this—this is truly magnificent.”

  “Th-thank you,” Tiki managed to whisper, still in shock.

  “We will now submit your winning essay as the school’s entry into the national contest. If you win that—well, it means a trip to Washington, DC, and an audience with the president himself! But of course, there are thousands of schools competing.”

  “Oh,” said Tiki, “that’s okay.” If he ever really got to meet the president of the United States, he was pretty sure he’d be totally speechless!

  “However, I think your essay is so special that it would be a crime to take no note of your achievement.”

  “My … achievement?”

  “Yes. So I’ve decided to call a special assembly for the whole school to honor you.”

  “Me?” said Tiki, his voice cracking. He was beginning to feel distinctly queasy.

  “Yes! And to cap it all, I want you to get up onstage and read your essay out loud.”

  “What? You mean, like, in front of everybody?”

  Tiki leapt up from his chair and was about to protest, but Dr. Anand didn’t give him the chance.

  “People who write well should be proud to share their ideas,” she said. “You’ve made us all proud, Tiki, and tomorrow you’re going to make us even prouder.”

  He rose slowly, and started out of the room, feeling like someone had hit him in the head with a brick.

  “Oh, and, Tiki?”

  He turned to face her, but said nothing.

  “Good luck in the game tomorrow.”

  He stared at her as if she was from Mars. “Game? Oh. Yeah. Game.… Thanks.”

  He walked out of her office and into a world of dread. One thought, and one only, filled his brain:

  How am I ever going to get out of this?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NO ESCAPE

  * * *

  “OH, NO. NO WAY. NOOOO WAY!”

  “Please. Pretty, pretty pleeeeze, Ronde?”

  “Tiki, I am not going to stand up onstage and read your speech for you! Why would I do that? Do I look insane to you?”

  “Ronde, you’re my brother! We do lots of stuff for each other.”

  “Not this kind of stuff.”

  The two boys were in their darkened bedroom. It was just past lights-out, but neither of them was going to get any sleep until this argument was over.

  “I’ll do anything you want,” Tiki promised. “I’ll be your servant for a week!”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “A month!”

  “Stop it, dude,” Ronde said firmly. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Remember, you got yourself into this mess by writing a better essay than me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tiki objected. “I read your essay. It was fine.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “It was really good, in fact.”

  “What did you like best about it?” Ronde goaded him on.

  “Oh, that part where you talk about how being smaller means you can surprise the receivers when you jump higher than they do.”

  Ronde was pleased. That was his favorite part of his essay too. “What else?”

  “Oh, yeah. When you said how we’re all really small, next to the size of the universe.”

  “Yeah,” said Ronde. “I like that part too. But I’m still not giving your speech for you.”

  “What? Why?” Tiki moaned.

  “You know what the best, best, best part of being small is?” Ronde asked. Then he answered his own question. “It means I can’t pretend to be you anymore, so there’s no way I could ever get away with reading your essay for you!”

  “AAARGH!” With a roar Tiki leapt out of his bed, grabbed his pillow, and started to pummel Ronde with it.

  Laughing, Ronde half-tried to protect himself, but he understood how his twin felt. He was just glad it wasn’t him who’d won the contest. Honorable mention was plenty good enough, he thought, letting Tiki tire himself out.

  “Man,” Tiki finally groaned, “why did I have to win that contest?”

  “Hey, your essay was the best in the whole school. I don’t think anybody’s going to think it’s stupid.”

  “Did you?” Tiki asked, going back over to his own bed and getting under the covers.

  “No! It was right on! People are gonna love it.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Tiki said, then added, “I’m doomed. Doomed.”

  “Hey, look on the bright side,” Ronde offered. “When we grow up, if you don’t make the NFL, you could always be a writer, or a public speaker. Maybe even a famous actor or something.”

  “I am making the NFL,” Tiki shot back. “And so are you. We’ve got to keep faith in our dream, yo.”

  “True,” Ronde agreed. “But I’m just saying. It’s good to have a plan B.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Tiki said. “Not for me. It’s plan A all the way. That’s the only way to make your dreams come true.”

  Ronde was silent. In a way he agreed with Tiki. But he also knew that sometimes people’s dreams didn’t come true. There were millions of kids all over the USA whose dream was to play in the NFL. But only a couple hundred a year would ever get drafted. For all those others, plan B was going to be really important.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Ronde said quietly into the silence of the darkened room. “You’ll be fine. You can do it, dude. When you’re up there, just think ‘Play proud!’”

  There was a long silence, then, almost in a whisper, “Thanks, Ronde.”

  In the morning Ronde woke up, bright and chipper. He washed, got dressed, and was almost on his way down to breakfast when he noticed that Tiki was still under the covers, lying there with his eyes closed and a pained look on his face.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Ronde asked.

  “Ooohhhh,” Tiki moaned. “I’m sooo siiick.”

  Ronde blinked, and cocked his head to one side. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “My head feels like there’s an axe stuck in it! And my stomach … ooohhh, my stomach…”

  “MOM!” Ronde yelled. Seconds later her footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” she called to them.

  “Tiki’s pretending to be sick.”

  “I’m NOT pretending!” Tiki shouted. “Ma, I’m really sick! Really!”

  She came into the room, looked him over, frowned, and felt his forehead. “Hmm. You don’t have a fever.”

  “But my head is pounding!”

  “Your tongue’s not coated.”

  “But I’m nauseous!”

  “He just doesn’t want to read his essay in front of the whole school,” Ronde told her.

  “Shut up!” Tiki yelled, trying to sock Ronde in the arm.

  Ronde dodged the blow, and added, “Everyone’s expecting him to be there, Mom. The whole assembly is just to honor him!”

  “I know all about it,” she said. “I tried to get off work today, because I wanted so much to be there.” She turn
ed to Tiki, who looked like he was about to cry.

  “Why does nobody believe me?” he complained.

  “Tiki Barber, look me in the eye. Are you sick, or are you just scared to death?”

  He frowned, sitting up in bed. “I’m not scared!”

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, smiling. “My boys are brave. They wouldn’t let something like giving a speech scare them. Why, you didn’t even have to memorize it. You can just read what you already wrote!”

  “But, Mom—”

  “Tiki, you get dressed now and go to school. If you’re still sick after the assembly, you go straight to the nurse’s office, all right?”

  Tiki sighed deeply and stared at the wall.

  “Good,” said Mrs. Barber. “Now let’s get moving, or we’ll all be late.”

  “I’m going to get you back for this,” Tiki told Ronde after she’d left the room.

  “Come on,” said Ronde. “You know you were faking it.”

  “Why’d you have to tell her that?”

  “You think she wouldn’t have known? Dude, she knows everything. Have either of us ever faked her out?”

  Tiki frowned. Ronde was right, and he knew it.

  “Come on.” Ronde offered a hand to help him out of bed. “Look at it this way. Those kids need to hear your essay.”

  “Yeah? Well, why do they have to hear it from me? Why don’t they just publish it in the school paper—under a fake name?”

  “You know what?” said Ronde. “They probably will publish it. But you know your name’s gonna be on it.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  FAME

  * * *

  “… AND SO, TO SUM IT ALL UP, WHAT DOES THE saying ‘Play proud’ mean? It means playing—and working, and learning, and doing, and helping, and everything else—in a proud way. And what does ‘proud’ mean?”

  Tiki looked up from his paper, which sat on the lectern in front of him. They were all out there—every kid he knew, every teacher, even the photographer from the Roanoke Reporter—and there was not a sound in the whole auditorium.

  When he’d first stepped up to the lectern, he’d been so nervous he didn’t know if his legs would give out underneath him. He had no idea whether his voice would even come out, let alone if it would crack like it sometimes did lately.