Wild Card Page 5

  “Yeah,” Tiki said, still staring out the window. “Let’s just hope Adam passes his retests next week.”

  Ronde saw Tiki’s chin tremble, and his eyes fill with tears that he blinked back fiercely. He said, “Hey, man, forget it. We won, you know? Don’t worry about it.”

  Tiki turned to him. “Don’t worry about it?” he repeated. “Are you kidding me?”

  Now it was Ronde’s turn to stare off into the distance. He’d tried to cheer his brother up, and he’d failed miserably—just like Tiki had as the Eagles’ kicker.

  “It’s so unfair!” Tiki said, hitting the back of the empty seat ahead of them with his open palm. “There’s got to be something we can do about this.”

  That made Ronde think. Maybe there was something they could do.

  He kept racking his brain for an answer all the way home. He was still trying while they heated up the dinner their mom had left for them before heading off to her second job.

  As they sat and ate, it finally came to Ronde. “Hey, Tiki, remember when Mom stopped that factory from getting built?”

  Tiki looked up from his tuna casserole. “Yeah?”

  “Well, that was unfair too, right? I mean, those builders wanted to build that factory, and they didn’t care that it would pollute the neighborhood.”

  “So?”

  “So, what I’m saying is, Mom didn’t just sit there and moan about it. She rounded up a whole bunch of people to come to those meetings, and she got all those signatures on that petition, remember?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, why don’t we do the same thing, man?”

  Tiki wrinkled his brow. “You mean . . . ?”

  “I mean, let’s get the whole team to go around school and get every kid, and every teacher, to sign a petition to let Adam back on the team!”

  Tiki dropped his fork onto his plate. “You really think that’ll work?”

  “Hey, they didn’t build that factory, did they?”

  “No, they didn’t . . .”

  “Well? If Mom could do it, why can’t we? There was only her and Mrs. Pendergast. There’s fifty-something of us!”

  “You really see the guys doing that?”

  “Hey, dude—desperate people do desperate things, right? I mean, we can at least ask them to.”

  Tiki scratched his head, thinking. “You know,” he said, smiling, “I hate to admit it, but every once in a while you have an idea that’s worth a try!”

  • • •

  Convincing the team members turned out to be easy. They would have done anything—within reason—if it would help bring Adam back in time for the next game.

  Before the end of that first lunch period, Tiki and Ronde already had the signatures of fifty-three people—all but eight of them team members.

  But as they found out afterward, getting signatures from kids who weren’t on the football team turned out to be a harder sell. At least that’s how it was for Ronde, who had no success at all in study hall, where the teacher kept telling him to sit down and be quiet.

  In his afternoon classes there was barely any time to talk with the other kids, let alone get them to sign something. The bell would ring, the teachers would start teaching, and then the bell would ring again and everybody would get up and scramble to their next class.

  It was only after the day’s final bell that Ronde had the chance to get some signatures. Unfortunately, it was raining, so most kids just made a run for the buses or cars that were waiting for them.

  Ronde figured his best bet on this particular afternoon would be to go around to the various clubs, which met in classrooms after the school day was over.

  There was the computer room, right across the hall. Ronde ducked inside and found a bunch of kids, some of whom he had classes with, all standing around one boy at a brand-new computer.

  “Hey, Tiki,” said one of the kids. “What are you doing here? Wanna join the computer club?”

  Ronde thought of telling them he wasn’t Tiki, but he figured it was better to let them think he was. That way, if he came off looking dumb, it would be Tiki’s problem, not his.

  “Um, maybe,” he said.

  “We’d let you in, no problem,” said Jacob Tomashevski, a skinny kid with a mouthful of braces that blinded you whenever he smiled. “But, of course, you’d have to quit the football team. We meet at the same times.”

  “No big loss,” said another computer nerd, Barbara Reese. “Sports are so dumb.”

  “Really,” Jacob agreed. “You’re too smart for that stuff, Tiki. You wanna join right now? I’ll go get the application forms . . .”

  “Uh, not right now, actually,” Ronde said. “Thanks anyway.”

  “So, if you’re not sure about joining the club,” said a third kid whose name Ronde didn’t know, “what do you want?”

  “Um, I . . .” Now Ronde felt really stupid. They’d just made it perfectly clear what they thought of the football team. “Uh, never mind. See you guys later.”

  “Whatever, dude,” said Jacob, shaking his head. “We’ll be here. We’re always here.”

  Ronde wiped the cold sweat from his forehead as he closed the door behind him and stepped back out into the hallway.

  Okay, so he’d chickened out with those brainiacs in the computer club. But he was determined not to give up so easily next time. After all, this was his idea, wasn’t it?

  And besides, what would his mom have done? She surely wouldn’t have quit without a fight!

  He opened the door of the next classroom down the hall.

  “Oui?” said a girl with long dark hair and big blue eyes. “Que voulez-vous, monsieur?”

  “Uh, sorry,” Ronde said. “Wrong room.” He ducked back out into the hallway. He took Spanish, not French—and if these kids were gonna talk to him in a language he didn’t understand, he might as well go on to the next club right now.

  In another classroom he saw a bunch of kids playing chess. There were six or seven games going on at once, each with two players, and at least one or two more kids watching and commenting on the moves.

  Ronde came in and said in a loud voice, “Hi, everybody!”

  “Shhh!” came the reply from all two dozen chess club members.

  “Can I help you?” whispered one of them, a kid with a crew cut and bad breath.

  “I’ve . . . I’ve got a petition here . . . ,” Ronde began.

  The kid took it from him and moved off, reading it. He laughed—it was more of a snort, really—and passed it to one of the other kids who wasn’t actually playing a match.

  The two of them seemed to get a real kick out of Ronde’s petition, all right. As it got passed along, the amusement level only went up.

  “What’s so funny?” Ronde asked. “It’s a serious situation, believe me.”

  “Listen, kid,” said the boy with the crew cut and the halitosis. “Nothing about the game of football could remotely be considered serious. You want a serious game, try chess.” He handed Ronde’s petition back to him. “I think you’d better look for signatures someplace else, my man.”

  “Thanks,” Ronde said sarcastically, taking back his clipboard and pen. “And I’m not ‘your man.’ Thanks—for nothing!”

  “SHHHH!” the whole room chorused as he backed out the door and slammed it behind him.

  “Man,” Ronde said to himself as he stuck the clipboard back into his book bag and headed for the late bus. “I hope the other kids are doing better than I am!”

  As he got to the door, he stopped himself. “Wait a minute,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m not gonna stand for that stuff!”

  Those kids had really ticked him off. Who did they think they were? Truth was, both he and Tiki loved to play chess, and were pretty good at it. But who wanted to hang out with those bigheads?

  He turned around and marched right back into the room. “You think there’s nothing serious about football?” he demanded, ignoring the shushing he got from the members. “Well, let m
e tell you something—there’s nothing more serious than sacrificing your body trying to win a ball game. Besides, we work a lot more hours on our game than you do on yours. And another thing—practicing football gets you into good shape!”

  He looked at their flabby waistlines and pasty faces. “You all look like you could use a little exercise. Maybe you ought to try football sometime. If you ever gave it a chance, I bet you’d like it.”

  They stared at him blankly. Ronde sighed. “Look, I’m not saying chess isn’t a great game. But it’s no more serious than football. And if you think we don’t use our brains out there on the field, you’re wrong. Ask Coach Wheeler if you don’t believe me. ‘It’s all about the mental game,’ is what he always says. We do a lot of studying before we ever get out on that field.”

  They were still staring at him, but now they were also glancing at one another. He could feel their resistance breaking down, so he kept on going.

  It was more arguing than he’d ever done in his life, but deep in his heart he believed every word he was saying.

  “Football is a great game,” he said, “and competing against other kids helps you grow up in a lot of ways. You all ought to know that—I mean, chess is a competitive game too.

  “Well, our chances to get into the play-offs rest completely on our kicker being there for us. And the school won’t let him play, just because he flunked a couple tests in math and science.”

  “Whoa, now hold up there,” said the kid with the crew cut. “Schoolwork is more important than meaningless things like sports.”

  “Are you counting chess as a sport?” Ronde shot back.

  That caught the other kid by surprise. “I, um . . .”

  “Okay, school’s more important—that’s true,” said Ronde, “but suspending Adam from the Eagles is punishing the whole team for one kid’s mistake. Is that fair?”

  Silence.

  “I promise you guys, if you sign this and Adam gets to play the rest of the season, I’ll personally guarantee that he’ll pass all his tests. Is that good enough for you?”

  They all looked at one another. “Sounds good to me,” said crew cut. “How ’bout you guys?”

  “I’m in,” said one of the players.

  “Me too,” said another, whom Ronde recognized from English class. “Hey, Tiki. You know, if football doesn’t work out for you, you’ve got a real future on the debating team!”

  • • •

  “How many?” Tiki asked, amazed.

  “Seventy-three signatures,” Ronde said proudly. “How about you?”

  “Um, I only got forty-seven,” Tiki admitted.

  “Hey, that’s not bad!” Ronde said, pleased. “If everybody else did as good as we did, Adam’s gonna be back on the team for sure!”

  • • •

  The team members all gathered at the cafeteria table at lunchtime on Tuesday to count up their signatures. Among the fifteen of them who’d volunteered to get names, they’d collected 393!

  “That’s out of nine hundred kids in the whole school!” Cody said excitedly.

  “You think we should keep at it till tomorrow?” Paco asked.

  “No, man,” Ronde said, taking charge. “We don’t have time to mess around. Besides, it’s just as good if we go into Dr. Anand’s office and show her how many names we got in just two days. She’ll be able to do the math from there.”

  “Dude, she’ll have to let Adam back on the team now!” Fred said, pumping his fist and slapping Cody five.

  • • •

  They were all sure that the principal would be impressed with the haul of signatures they’d brought in. And she was.

  “I want to commend you boys for your caring, and for your spirit of activism. I’m going to see to it that you all get Good Citizenship certificates as a reward.”

  “That’s great, Dr. Anand,” Ronde said, giving Tiki a sideways glance. “Thank you.”

  It was just the two of them in there with the principal. The team had decided it was better that way, rather than all of them crowding in and shouting at once.

  “But I’m afraid the rule still stands. I cannot allow Adam to return to game action until he’s passed both his failed tests. It would send the wrong signal about the importance of academics at this school, and I cannot have that.”

  “Please, Dr. Anand?” Tiki begged. “We really need him.”

  “You don’t realize what this will do to the team!” Ronde pleaded. “It’s going to crush our morale!”

  She sighed sadly. “I know you all find this upsetting, and I don’t blame you one bit. I’m sure too that if the Eagles don’t make the play-offs, I’ll be blamed by many of the children, not to mention parents and coaches. But I feel I have no choice. It’s not just that rules are rules; it’s that this particular rule is there for a very good reason.”

  Ronde bit down hard on his lip to keep from saying something he’d regret later. But Tiki just couldn’t help himself.

  “Man—this is so wrong!” he moaned.

  “I’m sorry, Ronde,” said Dr. Anand, mistaking him for his brother, as people so often did. “I hope someday you’ll understand.”

  Tiki marched out, not bothering to answer her. “He’s just upset,” Ronde explained.

  “I know,” said Dr. Anand. “I’m sure you are too. Thank you, Tiki.”

  “Um . . .” He was about to correct her, but he figured he’d let Tiki take the credit this time.

  “If you boys really want Adam back on the team,” she said as he was opening the door to go, “I suggest you encourage him to study hard. I’m sure he could use the moral support, even though he’s being tutored.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ronde said, and closed the door behind him.

  “Well,” he told Tiki, putting an arm on his shoulder as they walked back to the locker room, where the team was waiting, “at least we tried.”

  Tiki looked back at him hopelessly. “Okay, genius,” he said. “Now what do we do?”

  • • •

  Ronde picked a clump of turf out of his face mask and tossed it to the ground. “Yo, Fred,” he said to the Eagles’ wideout, who’d just landed on top of him. “Get off me, man.”

  “Sorry, Ronde,” Fred said, helping him up. “I was just going for the ball.”

  “Me too, yo!” Ronde shot back. “It’s only a scrimmage, remember? You don’t have to kill me.”

  Fred laughed, and so did Ronde. They were good friends by now, even though Fred was a ninth grader, and even though he was on offense and Ronde on defense.

  The Eagles had become a close-knit family, especially after all they’d been through at the start of the season, when Coach Spangler had suddenly deserted them to coach the high school team.

  There was still a lot of tension under all that team closeness, though. They all knew what their lousy start meant. It was November now, and they were still in the play-off hunt, but barely.

  Only one more loss and their destiny would be out of their hands. So it was no surprise that they played hard in practice—almost as hard as in real games.

  Today’s scrimmage had an extra edge to it. They all knew Adam was inside the school building at that very moment, taking his makeup tests after a week of tutoring and mental torture.

  Tiki was at the far end of the field with Coach Wheeler. Tiki’s kicks were looking much better, Ronde thought. Mr. Wheeler seemed upbeat about it, too, clapping his hands and shouting encouragement.

  The rest of the team was scrimmaging—the offense against the defense. But without Tiki the offense was at only half its normal strength.

  Ronde worried that Tiki wasn’t getting his regular repetitions on offense. He might do great at kicking this week against the Blue Ridge Bears—but that Bears’ offense, one of the best around, was going to score points off them.

  The Eagles, Ronde knew, would have to answer with points of their own. And that meant touchdowns, not just field goals.

  If Tiki was off his running game, there
was no way John Berra could take up the slack. And without their ground game going, the Eagles could easily lose this contest to a much better squad than they’d faced the week before.

  Ronde and the others were lining up for another play when the locker room doors swung open and Mrs. Franklin appeared, grim-faced. Everyone stopped still and stared her way. Holding Adam’s test papers in her hand, she slowly shook her head from side to side.

  • • •

  Later, looking at a video with the rest of the defense, Ronde watched the Blue Ridge Bears’ previous game. He paid particular attention to their big wide receiver, Chris Jones.

  “He’s been All-State the past two seasons,” Coach Wheeler told them. “Their quarterback loves to throw it up for grabs for him, because of that height advantage and those good, soft hands.”

  “Don’t worry, Coach,” Ronde said grimly. “He’s not scoring off me. That is just not going to happen.”

  “Well, I know you can get up there with the best of them, Ronde,” Coach Wheeler replied. “But it’ll help if you give him a good bump at the line of scrimmage, to throw him off his routes.”

  “Got it,” Ronde said intently.

  “You’ll have to be alert,” the coach added. “Because Giordano’s a scrambler. If he rolls out your way, you’ll have to make a quick decision which way to go. It’s a challenge, Ronde. You up to it?”

  “You know I am, Coach.”

  But he wasn’t so sure about Tiki.

  CHAPTER SIX

  GAME-CHANGER

  * * *

  “YESSSS!” TIKI COULDN’T HELP SHOUTING FOR JOY as he watched his opening kickoff sail high and long, just like one of Adam’s. Finally—FINALLY—he’d made a really good kick that wasn’t just for practice.

  The return man grabbed the kick, but before he could make a move, Ronde came crashing into him, sending him backward a full five yards before he toppled to the ground.

  “Barber City!” Tiki yelled, clapping his hands as he headed for the sidelines.

  He sat and watched as the Bears tried two weak runs into the Eagles’ line. Sam Scarfone dropped the runner for a loss on first down, and the second run netted only three yards. “Here comes a pass,” Cody told Tiki as they sat side by side.