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  “You new here?” Cody asked.

  Nick nodded.

  “Grade eight?”

  “Yep. You?”

  “Seven. You like basketball?”

  Nick nodded again.

  “Me too.”

  Nick smiled. He launched the ball and sank a long shot from where he stood.

  “Whoo-hoo!” Cody hollered. “Nice shot!” He put up his hand for a high-five, but Nick had his hands out for a pass back from Darnell.

  Nick buried another shot. Darnell scooped the

  rebound and fed the ball to Cody. Cody grinned and sank one from the left. Nick nailed one from centre. Cody popped one from the right. Nick sank a jumper. Cody whooped, caught the ball back from Darnell and tried a hook shot. In it went. Nothing but net.

  “Oh! Did you see that?” Cody was so excited, his voice came out as a squeak. “I’ve been working on that shot. Most of the time I miss.” But this time it was perfect. Darnell didn’t say anything. Cody was used to that. But Nick didn’t say anything either. He didn’t even crack a smile. Maybe it wasn’t as tough a shot as Cody thought it was. Maybe Nick and Darnell sank shots like that all the time.

  Nick took a short pass from Darnell and eased a shot in off the backboard. “If you’re not sure of your shot, you should always use the backboard.” Nick sounded like a teacher, or a coach. “In a game, it’s more important to score points than to look good.”

  Darnell tossed the ball to Cody. Cody knew the tips of his ears had gone red, and not from the cold. He took two steps on his way in for a lay-up. Then he stopped short. “Hey, is this ball autographed? Who signed it?”

  “LeBron.”

  Cody looked up. “LeBron who?”

  “LeBron who? I thought you were a baller.”

  “You’re trying to tell me LeBron James signed this ball? Get out.”

  Nick shrugged. “The Cavs were in Toronto for a game and LeBron did some autographs.”

  “If I had a ball signed by LeBron James, it would be in a glass cabinet in my room.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Cody shook his head. He passed the ball back to Nick.

  Catching it, Nick asked, “You play on the school team, Wally?”

  “I want to, if they ever announce a tryout,” said Cody. He waited for Nick to take his shot, but Nick held on to the ball. “Something wrong?”

  Nick looked down at Cody’s feet. “You have other shoes for basketball, right?”

  “No. Why? These are fine.”

  Nick shook his head. “You need high-tops to

  support your ankles. I was just reading about that in Sports Illustrated. Did you read that article?”

  “I don’t get Sports Illustrated.”

  “Really? I thought every serious player . . . Well, you can probably get it at the library. Or I guess I can lend you mine.” He smiled. “Having the right equipment is really important.”

  The bell rang and everyone headed for the double doors. Charlie was standing by the fence, watching.

  “Who’s the new guy?” he asked when Cody jogged up.

  “His name is Nick. He’s in grade eight.”

  “He plays hard.”

  “Yeah.”

  The next recess, Talal grabbed a basketball from the box by the door. He made to toss it to Cody, but Cody shook his head. “Want to play some kickball instead?” Cody asked.

  Talal gaped at him. “You want to play kickball? You only ever want to shoot hoops. Who are you and what have you done with Cody?”

  Cody laughed. “It’ll be fun.”

  He didn’t tell Talal that at last recess, basketball hadn’t been what he thought it would be. The new guy made him feel like a rookie.

  4

  The Burger Barn

  After school, Nick invited a bunch of guys over to his place to hang out. Cody was glad to have an excuse not to go. He already had plans for his weekly visit to the Burger Barn with Talal and Charlie. They took turns buying when they went. Charlie used some of his

  allowance. Cody used his paper route earnings. Talal used part of what his mom gave him for watching his little brother after school on the days she worked. They had a five-dollar limit, enough for a small fries for each of them plus one drink. Today it was Talal’s turn to pay so he got to order a Coke. Sometimes, if Art was working at the counter by himself, he would put three drinks on the tray without charging for the extras. “There’s a

  special today,” he’d say with a wink.

  The three boys took the booth in the corner, the one they always sat in. Talal dumped his fries in a pile on his tray, coated them with salt and ate them in handfuls. Charlie pulled his out of the cardboard container one at a time. He carefully dunked each fry in one of the small paper cups of ketchup he had lined up on his tray.

  “What’s the word on the worms, Chuck?” asked Talal. “Did Mr. Mendoza give you the go-ahead?”

  “He’s really interested. I’m going to see if my dad will help me do some more research. I’ll ask him at dinner.”

  Talal laughed. “My mom would freak if we talked about worms at dinner. She’s always saying just because she lives in a house full of boys doesn’t mean she has to hear about gross things while we’re eating. Mostly we just talk about what’s coming up on Sportsnet.”

  He sighed. “Or we did anyway, when my dad still worked at Navistar and we had cable. Now we just watch my brother stick beans up his nose.”

  “Simon?” asked Charlie. Simon was Talal’s four-year-old brother.

  “Nuh-unh. Farid.” Farid was sixteen.

  Cody grinned. “How’s the speech coming along?” he asked. “Any ideas?”

  “Yeah, any ideas?” echoed Charlie.

  “Sheesh, you guys are as bad as Yeo-Jin. She was all on my case at school over what I’m going to talk about. As if she has anything to say about it.”

  “She’s so bossy,” said Charlie.

  “Maybe she’s worried you’ll come up with something that will beat her out of going to the regional contest,” suggested Cody.

  Talal snorted. “As if. But don’t worry. I’ll think of something. And when I do it will be amazing.”

  “Like Thomas Edison,” said Charlie. “Isn’t he the one who said genius is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent perspiration?”

  “Who’s Thomas Edison?” asked Talal. “He sounds like one sweaty dude.”

  Cody smiled. “No light bulbs going off in your head, Talal?”

  “What?”

  “Edison invented the light bulb,” said Charlie.

  “Oh yeah. I knew that.” Talal stuffed some more fries in his mouth.

  “If you go to the library,” said Charlie, “my dad could help you find some books or some stuff online.”

  Talal nodded as he finished chewing. “Yeah, he works at the library now, huh? I saw him there the other day.”

  “You were at the library?” asked Cody. “I thought there was some sort of force field around it keeping you from going inside.”

  “What? I love the library. When it’s my turn to watch Simon after school, we always go there.”

  “To get books? DVDs?”

  Talal shook his head. “To meet girls. Girls are

  always at the library. They all think Simon’s really cute and come over to say hi.”

  Cody rolled his eyes. “Does your dad like the job, Charlie?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  A year and a half earlier, Charlie’s parents had opened up a bookstore. But the timing was bad and the store didn’t do well. It had to close after six months and the Grays ended up losing their house too. Charlie’s mom went back to work as a housecleaner, but his dad couldn’t find a job and had been really depressed. He didn’t do fun things with Charlie and his friends


  anymore. He just sat in a chair by their apartment window and looked out at the parking lot. He didn’t move. He didn’t talk.

  Charlie had stopped asking his friends over. Cody made sure Charlie knew he could come to his house any time. After all, Charlie was always there for Cody when he needed it. Charlie told him his dad had spent some time in the hospital and Cody had a feeling he didn’t mean a regular ward in Public General. But he didn’t make Charlie say it out loud. Charlie’s dad had started working part-time at the library a few weeks before.

  “I hope it works out,” said Cody.

  “Yeah. Me too.” Charlie cleared his throat. “But for sure he would help you if you need it, Talal. You want to get that speech done so Mr. Mendoza doesn’t keep you from playing basketball or something.”

  Talal stared at Charlie in disbelief. “He can’t do that, can he? And even if he could, he wouldn’t, would he?”

  Cody shrugged. “I don’t know if there’s ever going to be a call for tryouts anyway.”

  Talal smacked his forehead. “Ack, I almost forgot. I was going to tell you first thing when we got here. I saw Mr. Evans putting up the signup sheet in the

  hallway after school today.”

  “You did?” Cody felt his cheeks get hot. His heart started to beat a little faster.

  “I’m going to put my name on it, speech or no speech,” said Talal. “You coming out, Charlie?”

  “Maybe. But if Mr. Mendoza is serious about the worm farm, I might do that instead.”

  “When are the tryouts, Talal?” asked Cody.

  “Thursday. You’re coming out, right?”

  “Yeah, but I’m kind of nervous. Think I’ll make it?”

  Talal almost spat out his drink. “You? Are you nuts? You’re a shoo-in.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Charlie. “A shoo-in.”

  The word shoo-in made Cody think about shoes. And that made him think about Nick telling him to get some high-tops. Cody pushed away what remained of his fries. His stomach suddenly felt queasy. “Think the new guy will be there?”

  “Nick? Oh, yeah,” said Talal. “But that’s a good thing. You two will be on the same team. It’s not like you’ll have to play against each other.”

  5

  Tryouts

  But that turned out to be exactly what it was like, like Nick was playing against Cody. When Cody walked into the gym the afternoon of the tryouts, Nick was tying his shoes at the bench. Nick looked over and smiled, and Cody suddenly started to sweat. He told himself he shouldn’t be nervous. He had no reason to be. But there was something about Nick’s smile.

  It wasn’t friendly like Lucas’s slow smile. It wasn’t bright like Malik’s against his dark, dark skin. Nick’s smile

  reminded Cody of the way a crocodile or a shark shows its big, sharp teeth. There was no sparkle or warmth.

  It was cold, and a little threatening.

  Cody took a deep breath, grabbed a ball, and joined the rest of the guys taking shots. His hands were shaking. His first shot hit the rim and bounced away. His second one didn’t go in either. Cody jogged after it.

  Talal was right there, wearing baggy shorts and a headband that made his black hair stick up in every direction behind it. He snagged the ball before Cody could get to it and tossed it back to him. “What’s up? You look like someone put pickle juice in your water bottle. Or, wait, they’re not giving out wedgies already, are they?”

  Cody shook his head. “I just don’t feel ready

  for this.”

  “What do you mean? What’s to be ready?”

  “Maybe I should have gotten some new shoes or —”

  “Last I checked you don’t make baskets with your feet. Look at my runners. Not much tread left but there’s some fine air conditioning for my big toes. I will be very comfortable. It’s basketball, dude. This is your game. It’s all attitude. Time to pull a Mr. Einstein.”

  “A what?”

  “The sweaty light bulb guy who wouldn’t quit trying.”

  Cody had to laugh a little. “You mean Edison.” He knew Talal was right. He just needed to settle

  down. He smiled. “Einstein’s the guy with the

  hairstyle like yours.”

  Charlie had decided not to try out for the team after all. “There’s just too much to remember in a game. Pivots. Three in the key. Travelling. Double dribble. I can’t keep it all straight. It’s not like when we play Twenty-one at your house,” he had said to Cody at recess. “But I’ll come to all the games.” Cody knew he would. Charlie was as dependable as the fact that there would be a pickle on a Burger Barn burger.

  Nick strolled over to where the others were shooting. “Don’t you just ruv basketball?” he shouted. He grinned hugely, arms spread wide. He high-fived Stephan on one side of him, then Izaak on the other. “I do. I ruv it.” Everybody laughed. Cody narrowed his eyes. How did Nick hear about Cody’s speech?

  Nick signalled to Darnell to toss him a ball.

  He caught it and lobbed it right through the mesh. Jamie passed him another ball. Nick sank that one too.

  He smiled, turned, and punched Cody in the shoulder.

  It was just a friendly little punch. But there was something

  about it, like his shark smile from earlier. From that

  moment, Cody felt totally off balance.

  Mr. Evans walked into the gym and blew hard on his whistle. “Well, gentlemen, did you come to play some ball?”

  The coach did not look like he played basketball. What was left of his hair was messed up around his ears. He was short and a little overweight. He wore grey sweats and a pair of beat-up running shoes. But from the get-go, Coach Evans had the boys hard at work. He had them doing laps around the gym, shooting drills, passing drills, offensive drills, defensive drills and dribbling runs. He watched and nodded and whistled every­one to a stop when he wanted to explain or correct

  something. He encouraged the boys with all kinds of odd expressions. A lot of them seemed to have a fruit and vegetable theme. “Let’s be keen out there, boys. Keen beans.” “You boys are grouped tighter than peas in a pod; spread out now.” “Don’t give the ball away too soon, Jamie. It’s not a hot potato. Be cool, cool as a cucumber.” “Okay now, Malik, sink that pumpkin!” “That’s peachy, fellas, just peachy.”

  After a good half hour of drills, Coach divided the boys into two teams. “Let’s scrimmage for a bit now. Give me some game.”

  Cody watched Nick practically float across the court and swish shot after shot. He tried hard to play his best. Maybe he tried too hard. But he felt like there was a live wire shooting up his spine and electricity

  sparking out of his fingers. He dribbled too hard.

  He overshot. He pounded across the floor like an

  elephant. Sometimes the ball felt like it was filled with cement; sometimes it felt like a balloon. It kept slipping out of his hands. It hit his foot while he was dribbling up court and flew into the wall. Every time he took a pass, he panicked and unloaded the ball to a teammate. How was he going to show the coach he could score if he was always throwing the ball away?

  “Last minute of play,” called Mr. Evans.

  Already? Cody figured he had one more chance to show his stuff. He just had to leave Mr. Evans with a good impression. Jamie had the ball at the sideline. He drilled it over to Darnell. Darnell held it high before popping it up to Nick. Cody jumped for it, but it was too high and sailed past his fingers. Nick caught it. He dribbled around Talal, then around Eric and snuck in toward

  the net. Nick launched himself off one foot, spun in the air and released the ball. It went in. There were several seconds of stunned silence, then everyone cheered.

  Coach blew his whistle to signal the end of the scrimmage. “Whoo-wee, that was some fancy shot,” he said, clapping Nick on the back. “Nice play, boys. What say we slow it right down and finish off with a fe
w free throws? Line yourself up at a basket and show me what you can do.”

  Cody picked up a ball and stood at the free throw line. Nick lined up behind him. Darnell was next. “Great shot,” said Cody to Nick.

  “Thanks, but it was nothing you couldn’t do too. Right, Wally?” He smiled. “Your turn.”

  Cody’s shot smacked the backboard loudly and bounced back to him.

  “Easy, now,” said Coach Evans. “You’re launching that ball like a tomato you’re chucking at somebody who just insulted your best girl.”

  “I don’t have a girl.”

  “You will. What you want to do, see, is just kiss that backboard with your shot. Just kiss it and it will drop in. Here, try again.” He tossed Cody the ball.

  Gentle, thought Cody. Easy. You’ve done this a thousand times.

  Just before Cody took the shot, Nick made a loud, smoochy, kissing sound. The boys all roared.

  “That’s right,” said Mr. Evans. “Kiss it.” He nodded at Cody.

  Cody took aim and released the shot. The ball knocked the rim.

  “Almost,” said Coach. “A little more arc.” He gave the ball to Nick. “You try.”

  Nick popped the ball up against the backboard and dropped it cleanly through the mesh.

  “That’s how it’s done,” said Coach. “Let’s see the rest of you do that now.”

  The shooting drill quickly turned into a smooching drill as all the players tried kissing the backboard. They were big on sound effects. Finally, a laughing Coach Evans called them to the bench.

  “Well, that was some fine basketball, everyone,” said the coach. “And you seem like a fun bunch.” He turned to Nick. “Spin-man, that was some great shooting.”

  He looked at Darnell. “You showed me some

  excellent defence, D-man.”

  “Yeong-ster.” He punched Jamie lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve got some speed.”

  “Cowboy.” Coach was looking straight at Cody.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Good passing skills.”

  He went on to compliment each player on his strengths. Then he reminded them he could keep only twelve players. “Great job, fellas. I want to thank you all for coming out. I’ll have a list up tomorrow.”