Underdog (6 page)

“Who are you calling stupid?” Ashton demanded as he jumped off the bench. He clenched his fists and his face took on a serious, almost threatening look.

“Well, who are you calling stupid?” he repeated.

I took a deep breath. “There's nobody else here but you, so I must be talking to you.”

Ashton sat back down on the bench and looked away from me. “I don't even want to talk about this,” he said.

“You don't?” I asked.

“No, I don't.”

“You're wrong.”

“First I'm stupid and now I'm wrong.”

“You are if you think you don't want to talk about it because I know you do.”

“I do? What are you, a psychic or something? You can read my mind?” he questioned.

“Not your mind, but isn't it obvious why you're here?”

“I'm stupid, so how can anything be obvious to me?” Ashton asked. “I'm just hanging around. I was swinging,” he said. “That's why I'm here.”

“And there are no swings between here and your complex?”

“No, there's swings right in the complex, right beside my apartment.”

“Then why are you here, way away from your place?”

He didn't answer right away. “Maybe I was looking for a quiet place.”

“Or maybe you were hoping to run into me so I could convince you to come back to the team.”

He didn't answer again, but he sat back down on one of the swings.

“It doesn't really matter. I'm never going to get much playing time. I can tell.”

“How can you tell that?” I asked.

“I just know. That coach doesn't like me.”

“What do you mean he doesn't like you?”

“He's always telling me I'm doing things wrong, telling me I need to pass more and how I don't shoot the ball very well. He's always giving me a hard time. He just plain doesn't like me.”

“He's hard on everybody. That's the way he coaches. It isn't personal.”

“I think it is. He's harder on me then he is on anybody else…well, anybody except his kid,” Ashton said.

“And I guess he's hard on his kid because he doesn't like him either,” I argued.

“No. It's just…just…”

“Look, Ashton, I know he likes you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“He does.”

“What makes you think that?” Ashton asked. “Another psychic guess?”

“I know he likes you because he told me.”

“He did?”

I nodded. Actually he'd never said that, but I knew that Coach liked everybody on his team, so I wasn't really telling a lie.

“So he does like me?” Ashton sounded like he didn't really believe me, but he wanted to.

“He does. Besides, sometimes a coach is hardest on the people he thinks have the most potential,” I said. “Have you ever thought of that?”

“Not really.”

“Then you should think about it.” It was also possible that he was hardest on Ashton because he deserved it the most. The kid could learn to pass a little more. “Look, it's getting late. My mother said she'd give you a ride home if you needed one.”

“That's okay, I don't want to bother anybody.”

“It's not a bother. Do you need a ride to practice on Saturday?”

He didn't answer. He just sat there, staring ahead.

“You are coming to practice on Saturday, right?”

“I…I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know? Haven't you been listening to anything I've said?”

“I've been listening!” he snapped.

“Then why wouldn't you go to practice?”

“Because there's no point.”

“What do you mean there's no point? That doesn't make sense. To be part of the team you have to go to practices.”

“To be part of the team you have to pay the registration fees,” Ashton said.

“Of course you have to pay the…” I stopped myself. I hadn't even thought about that. I never had to think about things like that.

“It's a lot of money,” Ashton said. “Like three hundred and fifty dollars.”

“It doesn't have to be that much,” I said.

“It doesn't?”

“No, it depends on the fund-raising money.”

“Fund-raising? What fund-raising?”

“We sell boxes of chocolate-covered almonds to support the team. Every box somebody sells, they get to pay one dollar less on their registration fees.”

“Like a dollar or two is going to help,” Ashton snorted.

“Not a dollar or two. If you sell a lot of almonds, you raise a lot of money.”

“I'd have to sell three hundred and fifty boxes. There's no way I could ever sell that many.”

“Maybe not by yourself. But how about if you had some help?”

“You offering to help me?” Ashton asked.

“Why not? My registration is already paid.”

“And you'd help me?”

“Me and Kia.”

He shrugged. “I don't know.”

“What don't you know? We're teammates, and teammates help each other. How about you come over to my place right after school tomorrow. We have the boxes of almonds for the whole team in our basement. That's part of my mother's job as manager of the team. We'll have a snack and then hit the streets.”

“I don't think we can do it, even with three of us. We'd just be wasting our time.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But what have you got to lose?”

Ashton shook his head. “Nothing. I got nothing to lose. I'll see you tomorrow.” He jumped off the swing and started to walk away.

“You sure you don't want a ride?” I called after him.

“Nope. It's not far. See you tomorrow.”

I watched Ashton walk away. Maybe I'd given him some hope. Now I just wished I believed that we could actually sell three hundred and fifty boxes of almonds.

Kia knocked on the door and we waited for an answer. It didn't take long. The door swung open and a woman—about my moth-er's age—answered.

“Hello, we're members of the Mississauga Magic basketball team. We're selling chocolate-covered almonds,” Kia said, holding up one of the boxes.

All three of us stood there, smiling, wearing our orange basketball jerseys. Actually Ashton was wearing one of my old jerseys because we hadn't got our new uniforms yet.

“How much are they?” the woman asked.

“Three dollars a box,” I replied.

“That's a lot of money for a box of almonds.”

“That's because there are a lot of almonds in each box,” Kia replied, holding the box up even higher. “And it helps local kids.”

“Are you three all on the same team?” the woman asked.

“All three of us. I'm the only girl on the team,” Kia said.

“But others could play,” I added. “Our team believes in equality for girls and boys.”

“That's excellent!” the woman said. “How about if I take two…no, make it three…one from each of you.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Ashton said. “Thanks a lot.”

The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. She handed the bill to Kia, who passed over three boxes. I dug into my box and found a dollar to give her as change.

“No, that's alright. You keep the change,” she said.

“Thank you so much!” I beamed.

“It's my pleasure. Have a nice day,” she said as she closed the door.

“That was really good,” Kia said. “That was like selling four boxes because we made four dollars.”

“We are doing amazingly well,” I said.

“We are,” Ashton agreed. “How many have we sold?”

“If you count these three, I mean four, that makes almost one hundred boxes sold,” I said.

“That is pretty good,” Kia agreed. “Has anybody ever sold that many before?”

“Not from our team, at least as far as I know. But we still have a lot farther to go.”

“You gotta stop looking at this from the negative,” Kia said. “Don't think about how much farther we have to go, but how fast we've already gotten this far. We're almost one third of the way there,” Kia said.

“You're right, and that is impressive,” I agreed.

“But do you know what would make it go even faster?” Kia asked.

“What?” Ashton asked.

“If we split up. If we all hit different houses we could sell more boxes.”

“I think we're doing pretty good this way,” I said.

“You're only saying that because you don't want to do the knocking and the talking by yourself,” she said.

“I don't mind talking,” I argued, although she was right, I really didn't want to do it by myself.

“I think we should stick together too,” Ashton agreed.

“Come on, it isn't like you're afraid to talk,” Kia said.

“No. I just don't think it would work with me walking up to these houses by myself,” he said.

“Why wouldn't it?” she asked.

“I don't know if you two have noticed, but I'm black.”

“Really?” Kia said. “I just thought you had a really, really good tan.”

“Funny.”

“So you're black, what's your point?” Kia asked.

“All of these houses, all of these people in this neighborhood are white,” Ashton said.

“Not all of them. There are black people who live in this neighborhood.”

“I haven't seen any.”

“But there are,” I repeated. “It only seems like we've been to every house in the neighborhood.”

“David and Jordan and Jamie and Tristan all live around here,” Kia said.

“They do?”

“And the last time I checked, unless they all have really, really good tans too, they're black as well,” Kia said.

“Okay, then maybe there are a few black families here, but that doesn't mean the rest of the people aren't going to be scared of me if I'm pounding on their door.”

“Who's pounding? Most of these houses have doorbells,” she said.

“You know what I mean,” Ashton said.

“Besides, do you really think anybody is going to be scared of you?”

Ashton didn't answer, but he gave Kia his best attempt at a mean look. She chuckled and his look dissolved into a smirk.

“If you don't want to sell almonds around
here, we could always go to your neighborhood,” Kia suggested.

Ashton burst out laughing. “Now that's a bright idea.”

“What's wrong with it?” Kia questioned.

“For starters, you two would be just as out of place in my complex as I am here.”

“What do you mean?” Kia asked.

“You know all those black people who don't live in this neighborhood? Well, they all live in mine.”

“Everybody in your neighborhood is black?” I asked.

“Not everybody. There are some East Indians, Chinese and even a few whites—but not a lot.”

“There are all of those in this neighborhood. All of everybody,” I said.

“Maybe so, but it still wouldn't be smart. How much money you have in that little carton you're carrying?” Ashton asked me.

“I guess close to three hundred dollars,” I said under my breath, as if I was afraid that somebody would hear, even though there was nobody in sight.

“That's a lot of money. Too much money for three kids to walk around with in my neighborhood,” Ashton said.

“I'm beginning to think that's too much money for three kids to walk around with in any neighborhood. How about if we head back to my place and drop off the money so we don't have to carry it around?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Kia said. “Do you think we could get a snack while we're there?”

“Like muffins, maybe?” Ashton added.

“Muffins I can't guarantee. Food I can. Let's head home.”

As we started off, I became more aware of the money I was carrying. I hadn't really even thought about it until Ashton brought it up. It was a lot of cash and I was becoming more nervous. I started looking up and down the street, scanning the area for robbers. What exactly would robbers look like?

“So let me get this straight,” Kia said. “If we were in your neighborhood, we'd get robbed?”

“We might.”

“Has that ever happened to you before?” I asked.

“Me? Never.”

“Have you ever seen anybody being robbed?” I asked.

“Never.”

“Do you even know anybody who has ever been robbed?” Kia persisted.

“No, but it happens. I know somebody who had their apartment broken into.”

“I know lots of people in this neighborhood who have had their houses robbed,” I said.

“That happens everywhere,” Kia said. “It sounds like you think that crime only happens around your house.”

“Well, if nothing else, we should stay around here because people have more money so they should have more cash to spend on chocolate-covered almonds,” Ashton said.