by Phil Bildner
“Like what?”
“When you don’t hate me.” She sat down on my bed.
“What are you doing?” I brought my knees to my chest and inched toward the wall.
“It’s so stressful not getting along with people.”
“You’re on my bed, Tiki.”
“When I don’t get along—”
“This is so weird.”
“Everything’s weird.” She stood back up and headed for my trophy shelf.
“What are you doing now?”
“What’s this one for?” She pointed to the bronze trophy of a player kicking a ball.
“Second-grade soccer. Everyone got one.”
“This one?” She picked up the tall, gold-colored basketball one.
“Third-grade select.” I wrapped my arms around my knees and pulled them closer. “Can you put it down?”
“Is this one your fave-a-fave?” She tapped the front plate. “It says GNAT.”
“That’s my nickname.”
She put the trophy back. “Did your mom take away your password?”
“What?”
“Red says that when you get in trouble, your mom takes away your Wi-Fi password.”
I let out a puff. “No.”
“Zwibble.”
“Can you stop saying that already?”
“That’s my password.” She blew the hair off her forehead and hand-brushed it to the side. “Do you know why that’s my favorite word?”
I didn’t answer. She was going to tell me anyway.
“When I was little, I used to think I was going to get kidnapped. I thought aliens disguised as my mom were going to take me away. So whenever my mom picked me up at school—especially at a new school—I was always terrified. I didn’t think it was really her. So we came up with a word. Our own password. That’s how I knew it was her. Now Zwibble’s my password for everything, except on sites where they make you have a number or character or—”
“Tiki, I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Zwibble, zwibble, zwibble.” She snort-laughed.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said again.
“Okay.”
I motioned to the door.
“OMG-eepers-creepers.” She smacked her cheeks. “You’re not wearing any clothes! I can’t believe—”
“Yes, I am!”
“Embarrassment city! I can’t believe—”
“I’m wearing clothes!”
“Phew!” She pretended to wipe sweat from her brow. “Could you imagine if you didn’t have any clothes on this whole time?”
She headed for the door, but before she walked out, she stopped and turned around. Then for what felt like the longest time—but was probably only a few seconds—she just stared.
“You are so weird, Tiki.” I motioned for her to go again.
“Good-bye, Mason Irving.”
Gone
Red and I stood outside the entrance to RJE with the rest of the kids and waited for the building to open.
Well, I was standing. Red was spinning around one of the poles for the new fence being installed and bumping my shoulder each time he passed. It was a little annoying—and got more annoying after he knocked my granola bar into a puddle—but I wasn’t about to say anything. Red was banging into me and not freaking out. That never used to happen.
“What’s the deal?” Zachary said, walking over with the twins. “No more early pass?”
“No more early pass,” I said.
“Do you know where Tiki is?” Ana asked.
I leaned away from Red’s next shoulder bump. “I have no idea.”
“This is the first day she didn’t attack us,” Lana said.
“What does that mean?”
“Every morning, as soon as she sees us, she runs over. But she’s not very good at stopping.”
Zachary flicked his hand near my face. “You wouldn’t know that since you had your pass.”
“It’s kind of refreshing having a day off from her,” Lana said, “if you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I know exactly what you mean.”
* * *
“So we have some news this morning,” Mr. Acevedo said at the start of CC.
He sat in his spot on the rug and looked around the meeting area. He made eye contact with a few of the kids, including me.
“I was hoping to find some words of wisdom to go along with the news,” he said, “but I couldn’t find the right ones, so I’m just going to say it.”
I checked Red. He was on a beanbag, tapping his leg. Ms. Yvonne sat on the floor beside him.
“Spill it, Teach,” Declan said. “What’s going on?”
Mr. Acevedo pulled back his hair and exhaled a deep breath. “Tiki’s no longer in Room 208.”
I rocked.
“She’s not going to be at RJE anymore,” he added.
“Tiki’s gone?” Diego grabbed his hat strings.
“Did something happen to her?” Lana asked.
“Is she okay?” Piper said.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on.” Mr. Acevedo held out both hands. “Before you get any ideas, it’s nothing like that.”
Too late. My brain was bursting with ideas.
How were we going to beat Cypress Village and Millwood? We needed her. Clifton United was …
I hit Pause inside my head.
Was that why she came over? Was that why she was acting even weirder than usual?
“Tiki was never going to be here for long,” Mr. Acevedo said.
“Why didn’t she say anything?” Ana asked.
“Because she said kids treated her differently when they knew she was leaving,” Mr. Acevedo said. “She and I talked about it. As a matter of fact, she said everyone treated her differently when they knew she was leaving.”
I grabbed the locks above my neck and squeezed. She really did move around a lot. RJE was just another stop.
“Tiki’s family had to move out of state,” Mr. Acevedo said. “Mr. Eid is starting a new job right after the first of the year.”
“Pop,” Red said. “Takara Eid called her father Pop.”
“Thanks, Red.” Mr. Acevedo nodded once. “She did. They’re moving this week so they can settle in before he starts.”
“Takara Eid’s pop told us they were moving,” Red said.
Everyone faced him.
“He did,” Red said. “At the meeting in Principal Darling’s office, Takara Eid’s pop told us they were moving.”
“Dude, no, he didn’t,” Avery said.
“When did he say that?” Diego asked.
“Takara Eid said that whenever her family is about to move, her pop always shaves. Takara Eid’s pop didn’t have his beard. Takara Eid’s pop shaved.”
Whenever my family is about to move again, Pop shaves.
I rocked again.
I stared at Red. He knew at the meeting on Friday. He realized it then.
Our eyes met.
“Takara Eid told us she was moving, Mason Irving.”
Table for Four
“Peas?” I scooped some off my tray with my spork. “You call these peas?”
“They look like soggy booger balls,” Diego said.
“They look nasty!” Red said.
We were back in our booth. Diego and Red were across from me. Avery was parked at the end. I had the side to myself. Our usual spots, usual before Tiki.
“Why do they even bother serving them?” Diego said. “They’re only going to end up on the floor.” He put some peas on his spork and flicked them at me. They flew past my shoulder. “See what I’m saying?”
“Do you think we were part of why she moved?” I asked.
“Mr. Acevedo said it was because of her father’s job,” Diego said.
“I know what he said, but … I don’t know.”
I looked over at the service area. It was the first day we were allowed back in the cafeteria. I thought it was going to be weird with the lun
ch ladies, but it wasn’t. None of them said anything or even gave us a look. Ratio might have half smiled when she swiped my card, but I could’ve imagined that.
I stabbed my spork into a not-so-crispy chicken tender and took a bite. Before I finished chewing, the rest of it was back on my tray.
“I should’ve gotten the meatball sub,” I said.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Diego opened his sandwich. “These aren’t meatballs. These are meat marbles.”
“No, that’s bread and sauce,” Avery said.
“She’s been to eight schools,” I said.
“About to be nine,” Diego added.
“I would friggin’ hate moving around like that,” Avery said.
“I would friggin’ hate moving around like that, too,” Red said.
We all laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Dude, you said friggin’ and hate in the same sentence,” Avery said. “That was probably the first time you said either word.”
“Yo, that was messed up seeing her dad cry like that,” Diego said. “It made me want to cry.”
“You and me both,” Avery said.
“I never believed her,” I said softly. “That she moved around like that.”
“Some best friend you were,” Diego said.
“I wasn’t her best friend. Red was.”
“No, I wasn’t, Mason Irving. Takara Eid said you were her best friend.”
I looked at Avery.
“Dude, you were,” she said.
“And you didn’t even like her.” Diego dipped his spork back into his peas and flipped some more at me.
This time they landed in my lap.
I reached for his sub.
“Don’t start!” Avery slammed her hand on the table. “I’m not playing.”
I laughed. Then I snort-laughed. Like Tiki.
Avery held up her arms, flexed her eyebrows, and snort-laughed, too.
Then Red snort-laughed.
“Wait,” Diego said. He slid out of the booth and reached for his milk carton. He took a sip and then snort-laughed the milk out his nose and mouth. “Zwibble!”
Alone
You are so weird, Tiki.
The words are on repeat inside my head.
I was supposed to be reading. Safety Behind Bars was open on my desk, but I’d been staring at the same page since Choice began.
I put a stickie on top of Hershel and Rick’s conversation and picked up my pen.
You are so weird, Tiki.
You are so weird, Tiki.
You are so weird, Tiki.
You are so weird, Tiki.
Why did that have to be the last thing I ever said to her? Why did …
Mr. Acevedo knocked on my desk.
I flinched.
“Let’s have a conversation in the hall,” he said.
He tucked the picture book he was holding under his arm and grabbed a couple beanbag chairs. A moment later, we were sitting on them side by side against the wall outside Room 208.
“Here.” He handed me the picture book. “Take a little break from The Walking Dead and read this.”
I checked the cover. “Another Jacqueline Woodson book?”
Earlier in the year, Mr. Acevedo had given me one of her books, a novel. It was about this kid named Mel, who was a lot like me.
“It’s very different,” he said. “It’s about a new girl in class and how … Well, you’ll see.”
“Thanks.” I leaned the book against my chest and let out a puff. “Yesterday, when you told us Tiki moved, the first thing…” I twisted a lock near my forehead. “I thought about our last two games. That was the first thing that came into my head. Pretty crappy, right? The first thing I thought about was how were we going to win without her.”
Mr. Acevedo nodded once. “So what do you want to do with that?”
I faced him.
“What do you want to do with that?” he said again. “Do you just want to let that eat at you? Or do you want to do something about it? What can you do about it?”
Leading the Way
With two games to go in the season, we faced Cypress Village at home. They were red-hot. After dropping their first two games, they’d won their next four and were now only a game behind us in the standings. Since only the top two teams made the playoffs, this was a playoff game.
“Let’s go, Red!” I hard-clapped as he headed to the foul line for his pregame tradition. “Let’s go, Twenty-Four!”
I looked over at the stage. Mehdi’s dad was standing by the steps handing out blue-and-gold UNITED signs. Suzanne and Mom were opening folding chairs for the other parents. Noah, Melissa, Grace, Danny, Xander, Diego, and Avery sat on the front of the stage.
It was pretty awesome seeing Avery out of her chair.
“Show ’em how it’s done, Blake Daniels!” she shouted with her hands cupped around her mouth.
Wearing his basketball smile, Red went through his free-throw ritual and took his underhanded foul shot.
Swish!
“Six for six!” I skipped out to meet him.
We went right into our handshake.
“Roll left, roll right. Slap right, slap left.” We jumped, bumped hips, and on the landing …
“Boo-yah!” Clifton United cheered.
The team circled up in front of our bench.
“Two games to go.” Coach Acevedo held up fingers. “We finish this season strong.”
“We finish the season like we started the season.” Keith pumped both fists. “Strong!”
“Clifton United goes thirteen deep.” I clapped hard again. “That means we—”
“Twelve deep,” Wil said. “Tiki’s—”
“No.” I cut him off. “Clifton United still goes thirteen deep.” I pulled off my Bench Mob tee and pointed to my jersey.
I wasn’t wearing my number thirty-two. I was wearing number three.
“That’s Takara Eid’s uniform.” Red hopped from foot to foot. “Takara Eid wears number three.”
I turned around. It still said EID across the back.
“Cool-a-rino!” Maya laughed.
“Perfectamundo!” Mehdi said.
“Super-dupers!” Jeffrey said.
“Prestanderous!” I said.
Coach Acevedo brushed some hair off his face. “Our Rookie of the Year is with us the whole season. Everyone contributes.” He faced me. “You’re our floor leader out there today, Rip. Let’s get out there and take care of business.”
* * *
“Back tap to me,” I said to Dylan as he stepped into the circle. I spoke with my hand around my mouth. “I’m on the left.”
I slide-stepped to Keith. “It’s coming to me,” I said. “As soon as he jumps, break for the hoop. Just go.”
I found my spot on the circle. “I talk a lot,” I said to the Cypress Village player with the fade and the titanium necklace. “Just so you know.”
“Players, hold your spots.” The referee raised the ball.
Tweet!
“Dylan Silver with the back tap to his point guard,” I said as the ball went up, “and we’re under way.”
I put the rock by my hip, and with my basketball eyes I tracked Keith. Then I lobbed the ball over four red-and-white jerseys.
“Rip’s going long,” I announced. “Oh, what a look! Keith’s got it. The layup … yes! Now, that’s how you start a ballgame!”
I found my man and raced to him in the backcourt.
“Hands up!” I directed my teammates. “Who’s got number five?”
Jason did, but he was a step slow getting to him. So that’s where the inbounds went. But Dylan was able to get a fingertip on it, and I was all over the deflected pass. I grabbed it by the foul line extended, and dribbled back out.
“Go to the hole!” Coach Acevedo shouted from the sidelines. “Go to the hole.”
He didn’t need to say it twice (even though he did), and let me tell you, the move I made was like one I�
�d pulled off with my Nerf in my bedroom. If that coast-to-coast teardrop hoop I sank against Walker was the basket of my season, this was the basket of my life.
I went right at my man by the top of the key. I planted my left foot between his legs, lifted my toes, heel-pivoted, and rotated around him. A picture-perfect spin move! In the paint, I Euro-stepped (if you don’t know what that means, look it up) by another player and went hard for the hoop. As I put up the layup, I got hit on the hand.
Tweet!
“And one!” The referee signaled as the ball fell through the net.
“The hoop and the harm!” I announced. “Oh, what a play by the Gnat. Where did that one come from?”
I charged over to our bench, and one by one I elbow-bashed Max, Maya, Wil, Chris, Jeffrey, Emily, and Red. I elbow-bashed Red the hardest.
“Where did that come from, Mason Irving?” He basketball-smiled.
I pinched out the Clifton United words on my jersey. “Who’s your daddy?”
I then bolted for the stage and smacked hands with Noah, Melissa, Grace, Danny, Xander, Diego, and Avery.
“Let’s go, number three,” the referee said, holding out the ball. “Today.”
I skip-ran back to the free-throw line and sank my foul shot.
“Whoosh!” the Bench Mob cheered.
“Hands up!” I directed my teammates again. “Press, press!”
We pressed. Cypress Village couldn’t get the ball inbounds.
Tweet!
“Five-second violation,” the ref called. “Blue ball on the side.”
I hammer-fisted the air.
Clifton United was taking care of business.
Showdown!
The last time we’d played at Millwood it was a total disaster. We got our butts kicked, Red freaked out, and their Coach Crazy gave me nightmares for days. We definitely paid them back when we played them at RJE at the end of last season, but in my mind, that was only payback part one. I was out for even more today, and I was going to make sure Clifton United rose to the challenge.
Like last time, the bleachers on both sides of their high school–sized gym were packed with screaming fans waving orange-and-black towels, and techno music blasted from the speakers.
I slid over to the baseline to retie my kicks and checked Red. He was on the court warming up with the rest of the team. Then I looked over at Coach Crazy, who was already losing it.
