Full-Court Press Page 5

  “When I can,” she replied. Then she paused. “Don’t you have a special needs sister?”

  “Beth,” I replied. “She’s my big sister. She’s got CP and autism, and she’s deaf and blind.”

  Caroline nodded thoughtfully. “I think I’ve seen her with you guys at some of the school events.”

  “Yeah, she goes to the big ones,” I said.

  “I guess we’re lucky that Pete can do just about everything with us,” she said. “Does Beth ever have to go to the hospital? Because Pete had heart surgery when he was a baby. . . .”

  I felt Avery tap me on the shoulder. “Elle, I found that video I was telling you about the other day,” she said. “The one with the baby that dumps spaghetti on his head and then acts so innocent. It’s so cute!”

  “What?” I gave Caroline a look of apology and watched the video on Avery’s phone. It was totally adorable—but I felt bad for not finishing the conversation with Caroline. I wanted to tell her about the surgeries that Beth had had, and how scary that was, worrying that she was going to be all right.

  By the time Avery’s mom drove us home, it was almost 2:30. I walked Zobe, and then I spent some time with Beth outside since it was such a beautiful day. Then Mom made an awesome dinner of salmon nicoise salad, loaded with potatoes and green beans and lettuce. It was just what I needed after my greasy pizza lunch.

  I was helping clear the table when it hit me like a bolt of lightning—my history project! The outline was due tomorrow.

  “Gotta do homework!” I said, jumping up. After I took Zobe to the backyard, I brought him up to my bedroom, closed the door, and got to work.

  I had thought the outline would be easy, but I was wrong. I had to choose an African kingdom I was interested in, research it, and give specific details about key people, places, and achievements in an outline. The rubric said I needed three points of detail for each topic, but it was so late and I was so tired that I didn’t get everything done that I needed to.

  But it’s just an outline, I told myself, yawning. Ms. Ebear knows I’m going to do a good job on the project. This should be fine. I closed my laptop.

  And once again, I fell asleep earlier than usual and as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  7

  Falling

  Today in fall news, there is falling rain outside, and falling leaves,” Principal Lubin announced over the PA system the next morning. “Enjoy the fall, but please don’t fall asleep in class or fall behind on your work!”

  The word “asleep” made me yawn—I couldn’t help it. I felt like no matter how long I slept these days, it wasn’t enough. In an eerie way, it felt like the principal’s warning was just for me.

  I didn’t fall asleep in homeroom, although I did spend most of it staring out the window, watching the raindrops hit the red leaves of the maple tree outside. It was hypnotic, and I yawned again.

  Next to me, Avery yawned. “Stop doing that, Elle!” she hissed. “Don’t you know that yawns are contagious? When you see somebody yawn, it makes you yawn too.”

  “Really? Is that scientific?” I asked, and I yawned in the middle of the word. “Oh. Maybe you’re right!”

  The bell rang, and Avery left for her class while I stayed behind for World History with Ms. Ebear.

  “All right, everybody! Time to hand in your outlines!” she said. “I can’t wait to read all of your thoughtful and amazing ideas.”

  My stomach flipped a little. Thoughtful and amazing? I would not use those words to describe my outline. But there was nothing I could do about it now, except do a better job on the other parts of the project.

  It must have been the rain, because I dragged around all morning. I got my energy back during gym, when we played volleyball again. Mr. Patel told me that I had a “killer serve!” That felt pretty good.

  But my stomach flipped again in English class.

  “You should all have five entries in your journals by now,” Ms. Hamlin told the class. “On Wednesday I’ll be doing a journal check, so make sure you are up to date.”

  Five entries? I hadn’t even done one! And since we were supposed to do a journal entry every weeknight, I’d have to do a total of seven journal entries before she checked us on Wednesday. I started to panic, but again, what could I do?

  When school was over, I had basketball practice. The rain had ended, and my sneakers squished on the muddy field as I walked to the high school gym. When I walked to the locker room, I saw that Coach Ramirez had the TV set up again.

  “Oh boy,” I said out loud, and Amanda heard me.

  “I know, right?” she said. “Watching my mistakes makes me cringe.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Especially since last time Coach showed, like, a hundred things I did wrong.”

  “It wasn’t a hundred!” Amanda said. “And anyway, you played great yesterday. I’m sure she won’t have much to say about you at all.”

  She smiled at me, and I noticed the cute way she crinkled her freckled nose when she did. I smiled back.

  “Thanks, I hope so,” I said.

  But fifteen minutes later, when we were all suited up and seated on the bleachers, I got a real surprise.

  “You had a victory again on Sunday,” Coach Ramirez began. “But everyone could have done better.”

  Coach fast-forwarded to the part where I caught the rebound, got mobbed, and then passed the ball to Patrice. I thought she was going to point out how Patrice had dribbled after holding the ball with two hands. But she didn’t.

  “Elle, you passed to Patrice, but Tiff was open on your left,” she said, pointing to Tiff on the screen. “When you have possession of the ball, I need you to think quickly and weigh your passing options. Don’t just pass to the closest player.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Yes, Tiff was open, but so was Patrice. What exactly was the problem?

  She moved right past Patrice’s penalty, and stopped to compliment some of Bianca’s footwork. Then, when we got to the second quarter, she stopped when I passed the ball to Caroline.

  “See? There you go again, Elle,” she said. “You should have passed it to Hannah here, not Caroline. Hannah was in a better position to score.”

  I bit my lip and studied the screen. Coach had a point. Hannah had no defenders around her and was closer. But Caroline was open, and I admit that I passed it to her because she hardly ever gets to play. I guess I had been thinking with my heart instead of my brain on that one.

  I caught Amanda’s eye, and she gave me a look that showed she felt sorry for me. Which was nice, but it didn’t make me feel better. I looked away, and zoned out as Coach continued through the tape.

  I came out of my trance when I heard Coach say my name again. “If Elle had kept her balance here, we wouldn’t have lost control of the ball.” She was pointing to the screen, to a frozen image of me fallen on my knees.

  My cheeks started to burn. Did she really have to show that scene? How exactly was that going to make us play better as a team?

  Thankfully, that was the last thing Coach pointed out, and we started warm-ups and drills. I focused on the physicality of what I was doing, enjoying the feel of my muscles and the sweat on my neck. I didn’t want to think about that review tape.

  After practice, I quickly grabbed my backpack and hurried out of the locker room. I didn’t feel like talking to anybody, but Amanda ran up to me.

  “Sorry I was wrong about Coach,” she said.

  I shrugged.

  “Anyway, I was wondering if we should have a doggy date tomorrow, after school?” she asked.

  “That would be nice,” I said, and then I remembered. “But I can’t! I’m volunteering for Camp Cooperation tomorrow.”

  Amanda frowned.

  “Maybe Saturday?” I suggested.

  “That could work,” she replied, smiling again.

  Then I heard Avery’s voice behind me.

  “Elle!” she called out, running up to us. “You rushed out of the locker roo
m.”

  “Yeah, well, that wasn’t exactly my favorite practice,” I said.

  She nodded sympathetically. “I know,” she said. “But maybe Coach is being harder on you because you’re such a good player.”

  I sighed. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel that way.”

  “So, can I come meet Zobe tomorrow?” Avery asked.

  We were back outside now. The rain had turned the air chilly, and I zipped up my hoodie.

  “I’m going back to Camp Cooperation to volunteer,” I said.

  “Aw, I’m never going to get to meet Zobe,” she complained.

  “You will, I promise,” I said. “But volunteering is really important to me. The kids were so happy to have us there. It was such a good feeling.”

  “I understand,” Avery said. “Then send me a picture of Zobe today when you get home, okay?”

  “Okay,” I replied, and we fell into step together across the field.

  Avery is such a good friend. The best. I knew I had to make time for her. But how was I supposed to do that when my life was so busy?

  8

  Somebody Who Understands

  Elle’s back! Elle’s back! Hi, Elle!”

  The next day, Pete ran up to me and hugged me as soon as I walked into the multipurpose room at the elementary school.

  “Pete, am I invisible?” asked Caroline, who was standing right next to me.

  Pete hugged her. “You’re always back, Caroline.”

  “Well, I’m happy to see Elle back, too,” Brian said. “I’m glad you could fit us into your schedule.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I replied, although I wasn’t exactly sure if “fitting” was the right word. “Squeezing” was more like it.

  “Pete would never forgive me if I didn’t assign you to play outside,” Brian said. “Caroline, is that okay with you?”

  “That’s fine,” she said, and she pointed to a little red-haired girl sitting at the table. “I need to challenge Meg at Candy Land. She beat me last time.”

  So I went back outside with Brian, Pete, Max, Lily, and Addie. The two girls kicked a soccer ball back and forth, and Pete and I played catch. Max wasn’t in the mood to play quiet ball, but Brian said that was okay. Max just liked being outside.

  The hour went really fast, and before I knew it, Caroline and I were outside, waiting for our rides to show up, while Pete ran in circles around us. My phone beeped.

  “Mom says there’s a traffic jam on Willow Street,” I told Caroline. “She’s going to be a few minutes late. I bet your mom is too.”

  She nodded. “At least it’s nice out. Not chilly like yesterday.”

  My eyes traveled to Pete. “He is so cute,” I said.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “You know, I have another brother, Sam, who’s ten. They’re both cute. And they both annoy me equally.”

  I thought about that. Jim annoyed me sometimes, like when he leaves his dirty football socks in the bathroom, or when he used to tease me for not brushing my hair. But Beth? I don’t know if I could say that Beth annoyed me the way another sister might.

  “I guess it’s different for me,” I said. “Beth has more challenges than Pete, you know, and also, she’s my older sister. Mostly I worry that she’s going to be okay. Like when you said Pete’d had surgery—Beth had a bunch when I was very little. It was scary.”

  “I know,” Caroline said. “Pete’s been okay since his heart surgery, but it still scares me to think I could lose him. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  I felt tears forming in my eyes. I had never really been able to talk to anybody the way Caroline and I were talking right now. Avery and Blake were amazing listeners, and they loved Beth, but they didn’t know what it felt like to have Beth as a sister. Jim did, but he and I never really talked about stuff like that. And Mom and Dad—they talked to me about Beth, but it wasn’t the same.

  “I think the same thing about Beth,” I told Caroline. “I worry so much sometimes. And it bugs me when people say stuff like, ‘Oh, it must be so hard for you, to have a sister who needs so much care.’ Like Beth is a burden or something. She’s not a burden. She’s my sister and I love her.”

  “Now you’re making me cry,” Caroline said, and she wiped a tear away from her cheek—and then she laughed. “Although sometimes it’s not easy taking care of Pete. Mom’s always asking me to play with him, and help him with his homework. And then I have to help Sam, too.”

  “Oh right, you’re the oldest,” I realized. Mom and Dad never gave me any responsibilities for Beth. Maybe they thought they were doing me a favor, but what if they didn’t trust me to have more responsibilities? Just like they didn’t trust me to take Zobe to obedience class, or how they hadn’t wanted me to volunteer after school.

  They didn’t seem to mind when I spent seven days a week training for or playing basketball. But I knew there was more to life than basketball, and I wanted to do that stuff, too. I didn’t want to have to devote my life to one thing, just because I was good at it. And was I even good at it anymore? I wasn’t so sure.

  As these thoughts were running through my head, Mom’s minivan pulled up and I waved good-bye to Caroline and Pete.

  “See you tomorrow!”

  “Bye, Elle!” Pete said. “Bye, bye, Elle!”

  Pete’s voice instantly cheered me up. “Bye, Pete!” I called out, and I climbed into the passenger seat.

  Mom looked at me. “My goodness, Elle, I haven’t seen you smile like that in a while,” she said. “This volunteering is good for you.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I replied, and I realized something: People always thought volunteering was supposed to make other people feel good. But it worked the opposite way, too. Volunteering with those kids had made me feel really happy. I hadn’t even thought about the bummer practice of the day before.

  I had time before dinner to work on my journal entries for English. I’d managed to finish four on Monday night, after practice, so now I had three more to go. I knew I was rushing them, but a journal was supposed to be about your feelings, right? And right now, my feelings were rushed.

  I still hadn’t finished my homework in time for dinner, but before I went up to my room, there was something I wanted to do.

  “Come on, Zobe,” I said. “Let’s hang outside with Beth for a while.”

  First I signed the word “outside” to Beth in her hand, and she nodded her head. Then I wheeled her out, with Zobe right at my heels.

  I picked up Zobe’s red rubber ball and threw it across the lawn. He ran after it, and came back with it in his mouth. Then he dropped it into Beth’s lap. I couldn’t believe it!

  Beth reached out and touched Zobe’s head. She nodded her head up and down, and I knew she understood that Zobe was playing with her.

  I picked up the ball and threw it again, and Zobe fetched it and once more deposited it on Beth’s lap. I laughed.

  “Good boy, Zobe!” I said. Then, remembering Avery’s request, I snapped a photo of Zobe and Beth and sent it to her.

  Dad came out a few minutes later. “Would you look at that?” he said. He walked over to Zobe and started scratching him behind both ears. “What a good dog you are, Zobe!”

  Then he looked at me. “You may be on to something, Elle, with the idea of Zobe becoming a therapy dog.”

  “It’s a great idea, right?” I asked.

  “I’ll look into it,” Dad promised. “I just worry that you’re too busy with school and basketball.”

  School! I knew I had to get back in and do homework.

  “Can you stay outside with Zobe and Beth for a little longer?” I asked Dad. “I have to finish my homework, and I don’t think Beth’s ready to stop playing with Zobe.

  “Of course, Elle,” Dad said.

  I headed back inside, wishing I didn’t have to leave. But I had to get more focused about doing my homework. I knew I had to do a better job than I’d done on my history project outline. I still hadn’t gotten it back from Ms. Ebear.

>   Maybe it won’t be so bad, I thought, and then I curled up on my bed with my English book and started to read.

  9

  Don’t They Know I Have a Life?

  This is not your best work, Ms. Ebear had written on my outline. Please see me after class.

  I wanted to slide down and disappear in my seat when Ms. Ebear handed me back my paper the next morning, but that’s hard to do when you are six feet tall. She hadn’t even graded it; she’d just written the note.

  When World History class finished, I hung back while everyone else left. Ms. Ebear smiled at me, which made me feel awful. She was my favorite teacher, and I had disappointed her.

  “Elle, I think you know you could have done better,” she began, and I nodded.

  “Yes,” I replied. I didn’t say anything else. My parents had taught me never to make excuses when something had been my own fault. My dad always liked to quote Ben Franklin, who said, “He that is good for making excuses is seldom good for anything else.”

  “I know you’re busy with basketball,” Ms. Ebear said, making an excuse for me. “So I’m going to assume that you’re adjusting to your new schedule. And since I know you can do better, I’d like to give you a chance to redo the outline. Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I repeated. I quickly went over my evening in my head. Practice, Zobe, shower, dinner . . . but I couldn’t turn down her offer. “Sure, tonight. I’ll hand it in tomorrow.”

  Ms. Ebear smiled again. “That’s the spirit, Elle!” she said. “I’m looking forward to reading your new outline tomorrow.”

  I thanked her and hurried to Ms. Rashad’s science class. She was handing out packets of worksheets to everybody.

  “Use these worksheets to help you study for your test tomorrow,” she said. “I’m going to give you all some time during class to work on these.”

  I flipped through my packet. It was four pages of questions about cells, and we could find the answers in our science books. Questions about cytoplasm, ribosomes, lysosomes, mitochondria . . . I realized I didn’t know the difference between an organelle and a vacuole and felt a moment of panic. I mean, I had been paying attention in class. Shouldn’t I have absorbed some of this stuff?