Last Line of Defense

by N. J. Corbo

  “Listen boys,” Coach says, “we know things have been kind of rough at home.”

  What? That’s what they were talking about? Now you’re the one feeling uncomfortable.

  “When families have problems,” he continues, “it often affects everything in your life, but we want you to know you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

  When he says “we” he motions to the principal, but you can tell Diggle doesn’t consider himself part of that “we.” You’re so grateful that Coach is the one talking.

  “I’ll let your folks fill you in on the particulars,” Coach says, “but you’re all going to see a counselor to help work things out. And here’s what’s going to happen at school … ”

  “You’re getting detention,” Principal Diggle blurts out at Jesse.

  “Yes,” Coach says calmly, “and you’ll spend it with me.”

  You’re glad Jesse will be with Coach. You’re not so sure about the counselor thing though. Still, your parents did look relieved. You’ll just have to see what happens next.

  THE END

  You hate to disappoint Coach, and you hate to lie even more, but you just know you can’t make the free throw. Plus, you’re determined not to cause your team to lose. You vow to yourself that you’re going to practice hard and, next time, the free throw will be yours. Coach asks one of the other guys to grab an ice pack for you, and then he sends in Matty to take the shot. You’re glad too. Matt hits his free throws about eighty percent of the time.

  You sit on the bench hunched over and pressing the ice to your shoulder. The minor pain caused by Dan’s elbow gives way to the distinct sting of having something frozen against your skin. It slowly begins to numb. The icepack bleeds drops of water that trickle down your back. You can’t help feeling some regret over your decision to play up the injury. You can’t help wondering what would have happened if you’d tried. Realizing that the person you’ve disappointed is actually yourself, you feel even worse. You’re going to master that free throw if it’s the last thing you do.

  Meanwhile, Matty is out on the court. The auditorium is silent. Without hesitation, and with total confidence, he makes a perfect shot. The Dragons win the game. The guys all slap him on the back and congratulate him. Behind you, the bleachers erupt with cheers, and someone starts the Dragons’ rally cry. You join in, but it’s half-hearted at best. You’re happy that your team won; you just can’t seem to get in the celebratory spirit.

  You hear your mom call your name and, when you look, she’s frowning and pointing to her shoulder. You nod in response. It’s just her and Jesse, but you can’t help thinking about your dad. He used to be the person who would help you with a difficult play or move. You wish he wasn’t so checked out lately. Between family and basketball, things are feeling really far out of whack.

  “I’m taking everyone to Two Scoops,” Coach says.

  “Not me, Coach,” you say, shaking your head, but trying not to make a big deal of it.

  “Does it hurt that bad, Fixer?” Tommy wants to know.

  “Yeah, I dunno, I just … ” You don’t really know what to say.

  That’s when Coach walks over and looks like he’s X-raying you with his eyes again. You already feel bad enough; you just want to get out of there.

  “Halverson,” he says. “I know things can seem pretty black and white sometimes. Either you make the shot or you don’t make the shot. Either you win or you lose. But it’s not really that simple,” he says. Then he continues, “Sometimes, you get more out of just trying, regardless of the result, so you have to be willing to go for it and fail.” He puts his arm around you and says, “And don’t worry, kid, there will be plenty of opportunities to do just that.”

  THE END

  You’re bummed about losing the game and the dumb free throw, and you’d like to just go over Ashton’s to avoid your family, but your mom looks like a train wreck. You can tell she’s upset about something Jesse has done and you want to see if you can help.

  Normally, you and your brother would yell “shotgun” for the front seat, but tonight he slips in the back without a word. Whatever he did, it must be bad. Your mom’s hands shake when she puts them on the wheel. She’s really upset. That’s it. You can’t handle the suspense anymore.

  “Okay, what the heck is going on?”

  “Not now, Phil,” your mom says, slipping the key into the ignition.

  “Mom, your hands are shaking and you were holding onto him in there like he might escape if you let go. What happened?”

  Your mom turns the car off and shuts her eyes. She takes a deep breath. Jesse makes himself as small as possible in the corner of the backseat and doesn’t say anything.

  “Your brother was caught shoplifting liquor from a convenient store,” she says.

  “How? They keep that stuff behind the register.”

  “Well, it seems he had some help from his friends, before they ran away and left him,” she says sarcastically.

  Your mom tells you that the store manager called her. Turns out, they went to high school together, so he decided to let Jesse off with a warning.

  When you get home, Jesse goes straight to his room. Your mom heads to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water, but she can barely steady the glass.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do about him,” she says, putting her head in her hands.

  “What I can do to help?” you ask, sitting down next to her.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she says. “Don’t worry. Your dad will be home soon and we’ll handle it. You just go finish up your homework, okay?”

  A little while later, you can hear your dad railing on Jesse, threatening to send him to a disciplinary school. You try to focus on your homework, but it’s difficult. Jesse definitely messed up but, maybe if your dad were around more, your brother wouldn’t get in trouble all the time. You wonder if maybe you should talk to Jesse.

  GO TO PAGE 5. You don’t know what to say or do, so you just focus on your homework and don’t talk to Jesse.

  GO TO PAGE 54. You talk to Jesse, because you think maybe you can help somehow, and you hate seeing your little brother get into so much trouble.

  You grab the ball and call a timeout.

  “Come here, guys,” you say.

  You don’t want to single out Jesse and make him regret coming. It was difficult enough to get him here. You decide to make it a tactical speech and keep it general.

  “Alright,” you say, “we know what Dan’s up to, but this guy, Ed, he’s a wild card. He’s short and fast, so stay away from isolation plays when he’s guarding you. Try to use pick and rolls to force a switch, okay?”

  They all nod.

  “What if I want to go for a lay-up?” Jesse asks.

  “Dude, you cannot make a lay-up. You’re too timid,” Matty says.

  “I’m not timid,” Jesse argues and starts to get in Matty’s face.

  “Whoah, little turd, don’t even start with me,” Matty says leaning in. Jesse has always annoyed him. “You’re lucky we even agreed to let you play with us today.”

  “Whatever, I don’t even want to be here,” Jesse says, but doesn’t back down.

  This stinks. You don’t want to get between your brother and best friend, but if push comes to shove, you’re going to pick Jesse.

  “Listen, Jess,” you interject, casually stepping between them. “I just want you to think about what’s best for our team.”

  “Why are you always telling me what to do, Phil? I’m sick of it!”

  “I get it,” you say and lead him away from the guys for a minute. In a lower voice you say, “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. Really,” you promise. “I’m trying to give you advice on how to use your strengths.”

  You understand that he really likes to drive the lane and go for a lay-up, but you tell him that they aren’t his best skill. You see his face begin to soften as he realizes that you’re not just telling him he stinks. You remind him that he needs to
think about what’s best for the team.

  A moment later, you’re back on the court. Matty has the ball. Neither you nor Ash are open for a pass. Matty hesitates for a moment, almost losing the ball, but then he reluctantly passes to Jesse, who takes a three from the corner that wins the game.

  “Great job out there today,” you say to Jesse on the way home.

  “Thanks,” he says, clearly proud of himself. “And thanks for the good advice too.”

  Wow. Did Jesse actually just thank you? Unbelievable – he won the game and thanked you for your advice. If that happened, maybe you’ll see pigs fly too. At this point, anything’s possible.

  THE END

  It was a seriously tough decision, but you have much better odds at making the shot underhand. So, the granny toss it is. Ugh. What are you doing?

  You stretch your shoulder a bit to work out the knot from that elbow you took. Then, you step up to the free-throw line. You take your stance. Feet shoulder width apart, knees bent. You hold the ball in both hands. There are whispers as people figure out what you’re doing, and someone even snickers. You block it all out, clearing your mind. You’ve got this. Next, you lift up and release. A million years pass before the ball reaches the hoop. You can feel your body shaking with anticipation. Then, swoosh. It goes in and the crowd goes wild!

  “Hey, Granny,” someone calls out from the Lions’ side of the bleachers, “nice shot.” Your face heats up with embarrassment.

  “Don’t listen to ‘em, kid,” Coach says. “You did it just like Rick Barry.”

  “Who?” you say.

  “Rick Barry,” he repeats. “He’s one of the best players in NBA history.”

  “I’ve never heard of him,” you admit.

  “Well,” Coach says, “he’s the only player to lead the NCAA, ABA, and NBA in scoring for an individual season. His ABA points-per-game average is still the highest career total for a player in any professional league, and he played back in the 70s, kid. And,” he pauses, “one of the other things he’s best known for is shooting highly accurate underhanded free throws.”

  Whoa. That’s pretty cool.

  “Ice cream at Two Scoops is on me,” Coach says.

  You look around for your mom. When you see her, you motion that you’re going with the team and she gives you the “okay” sign. That’s when you realize Ellie Burkoski is standing right in front of you, smiling.

  “Hey, Phil,” she says. “Congratulations.”

  Ellie has the prettiest bright green eyes and cute freckles over the top of her nose. You’ve liked her forever, and she wants to know if you’ll walk with her to Two Scoops.

  GO TO PAGE 52. A win against the Lions, a walk with Ellie, and ice cream – what more could you ask for? You take a walk with the girl of your dreams.

  GO TO PAGE 36. A walk with Ellie is tempting, but the guys are calling for you, and you should celebrate with your team.

  Coach wants to know what’s wrong, but it’s all so weird and confusing, and you’re not exactly sure what to say. You stare at the floor, wishing you hadn’t been late for school, wishing Jesse had been ready on time, wishing your mom had gotten you up and made breakfast, wishing you hadn’t been up so late with your head pounding, wishing your parents weren’t fighting constantly. You just wish things were different.

  “Phil, you can talk to me about anything,” he says.

  “Yeah, I know, but … ”

  “Is everything okay at home?” he asks. How did he know?

  “Um,” you hesitate, then tell him, “not really, no.”

  “Listen,” he says. “If you talk to me about it, maybe I can help.”

  Coach is very patient while you try to find the words. It’s impressive, seeing as how you have a big game to get ready for, but also his calm and patience help you feel a little less embarrassed.

  You tell him that your parents have been fighting non-stop for the past four months. You don’t even know what they’re fighting about half the time. Jesse has been a mess. You can’t believe how much trouble a 10-year-old can cause and get into. You’ve been trying to take care of your mom, who’s been really sad. You’ve been trying to reel in Jesse, before he gets completely out of hand. You don’t even know what to say about your dad. He’s just never around anymore.

  The whole time you talk, Coach is silent. He just nods his head here and there, so you know he’s getting it. You had no idea what a relief it would be just to say it all out loud.

  “You know, kid,” Coach says when you finish, “I never call you ‘Fixer’ because it’s not one person’s job to fix things for everyone. Seems like that’s what you’re trying to do.”

  “I just … ” you start.

  “Now, hold on a sec,” Coach says. “It’s my turn.”

  He’s just going to tell you school is important and blah, blah, blah. Maybe Coach doesn’t understand after all.

  “My mom was an alcoholic,” he says.

  What does that mean? An alcoholic is just someone who drinks too much, right?

  Coach tells you she was a functioning alcoholic. She had a job, kept a home, and raised three kids. But, because of her drinking, he always felt like he had to take care of her. He tells you that he felt hopeless and frustrated for a long time, like he could never do enough. Until, that is, he got some help.

  “I know your situation is different,” he says, “but it sounds like you could use some help too. I’d like you to see one of the school counselors. I’ll even go with you,” he offers.

  GO TO PAGE 7. You decide it really is too much to handle on your own, and you agree to go with Coach to see a counselor.

  GO TO PAGE 61. You appreciate Coach’s sympathy, but you don’t want to make a big deal of it. You just want to focus on preparing for tomorrow’s game and deal with your family alone.

  You can’t believe it. You’re actually walking with Ellie Burkoski. You’re walking, you realize, but you’re not talking. What do you talk to girls about anyway? You walk in silence for about five minutes, and you’re glad it only takes 10 to get to Two Scoops. Still, you feel like you should say something.

  “So, what was your favorite part of the game tonight?” you ask.

  “Your free throw, of course,” she says.

  You didn’t mean to fish for a compliment. She probably thinks your full of yourself now. Great, just great.

  “Rick Barry used to shoot like that,” she smiles. “My dad says there’s no shame in getting the job done right.”

  She knows about Rick Barry?

  “Yeah,” you chuckle. “Well, it wasn’t my first choice, but it worked, right?”

  “Definitely,” she says.

  “How do you know about Rick Barry?” you ask.

  “I can name all of the greatest players in NBA history,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, my dad taught me,” she says.

  Wow. Very cool.

  “Shaq’s always been my guy, but now I’m rethinking it,” you say. “He couldn’t make a free throw either.” You both laugh.

  “I know a lot of basketball trivia,” she says, “but what I really like is playing.”

  Your middle school doesn’t have a girls’ team, but the other middle school near the Hanaford River does. It’s called Chesterton-on-Hanaford. The high school has a girls’ team too, so it’s strange that you guys don’t have one.

  “Why don’t we have a girls’ team?” you ask.

  “There used to be one,” she says, “but there hasn’t been enough interest. I asked my folks if I could transfer to C-o-H this year, because I really want to be ready for high school, but there’s some weird districting thing. We’d have to move for me to go there.”

  She sounds pretty defeated, and you wish you had a way to cheer her up.

  “That really stinks,” you say.

  “Yeah,” she agrees. Then she gets a funny look on her face, like she’s had a brilliant idea. “I hear sometimes there are pick-u
p games on the weekends. You know, down at the rec center. Have you heard anything about that?” she asks.

  GO TO PAGE 13. It may be a mistake, and you’ll have to talk the guys into it, but you invite her to the Saturday game at the rec center.

  GO TO PAGE 19. You feel bad for her, but you know the guys will never go for it, so you just tell her you have a hoop at your house, and invite her to practice there with you.

  Your dad finally stops yelling and goes downstairs. You walk over to Jesse’s room. The door is open and he is sitting on the floor in the corner crying. His face is bright red and wet from tears. It really makes you angry to see him like this, but you’re still also a little ticked off that he would pull such a stupid stunt. What was he thinking?

  “Just leave me alone, Phil,” he says through sobs.

  “I’m not here to give you a hard time, I just want to talk.”

  Sitting on the floor across from him, you lean back against the wall. Jesse’s room is like a cave. He has the windows covered with blankets and all he ever does is play video games. You like video games too, but that’s all he does. You think it’s hopeful that he still has the LeBron poster you gave him for his birthday on the wall.

  “You still like LeBron?” you ask, trying to break the ice a little.

  “I guess,” he says.

  “You guess? Dude, he’s won championships, gold medals, and he led the Heat on a 27-game winning streak. He’s the best.”

  “Why are you asking me about basketball?” he wants to know.

  “I dunno,” you say, “we used to talk about basketball when we hung out more. Now, you’re always with Cal and Justin.”

  “They’re my friends,” he defends.

  “Yeah, friends who nearly got you arrested,” you say.

  “Just get out,” he half growls and half pleads.