In My Head

Four Years Before The Move ~ Suck Up ~ Kaden

Whistle! "Bring it in!" Coach Gramberg shouts.

I grab my rebound, run to the bin, drop my ball in, and sprint over to Gramberg. Jake just barely beats me there. He gets in front of me as we all huddle in.

"Good work today, boys. Way to hustle. We have a game next Tuesday. You all know your homework for over the weekend." Gramberg looks around at all of us and holds up three fingers. "You're dribbling around the block with the basketball. You're making ten layups. You're doing ten rebound jumps."

Half the team groans at the rebound jumps.

"Do those three things and we're this much closer to a victory. Have a great weekend, now hit the showers."

I turn and sprint toward the locker rooms. Jake isn't behind me. He's still standing over there, talking to Gramberg, like he always does after practice. I file into the locker room and stop at the locker I share with Jake.

Chance comes into the locker room, laughing his head off. "Hey guys, guess who's sucking up again!"

"Teggy!" everyone shouts.

Chance goes to his locker, which is right behind me. "If Gramberg was a cow, Teggy would be puking milk by now."

Everyone laughs.

The team really hates Jake for getting to be the point guard. I don't see what the big deal is, though. I'd rather be making the shots than dribbling and passing the ball.

I get the locker open and grab our gym bags, one over each shoulder. I go back out to the gym. Jake is still talking to Gramberg about whatever it is he always says to him. I drop the bags on the floor and grab our basketballs from the bleachers. Dribble both in place. I walk, slowly speeding up, until I'm jogging while dribbling both basketballs.

Jake finally turns and runs over to me. I toss him his ball and pick up my bag. He grabs his bag, and we leave through the back of the gym.

"Dude, you have to quit sucking up to the coach," I say as soon as we're outside. It's really cloudy out here.

Jake stops and gapes at me. "I'm not sucking up! I'm the point guard, Kaden."

"And I'm the shooting guard, Jake."

He works his jaw, and his head sags with annoyance. "You have no idea how hard it is to be the point guard."

"You dribble and pass. What's so hard about that?"

He shakes his head and sighs heavily, but then he takes a breath to explain. "I have to know all our plays inside out. I have to see the whole floor and make spur of the moment decisions that could win or lose us the game. I have to read the coach's mind so he doesn't have to waste all our time outs to tell me everything. I have to know how each one of my teammates is going to move, so that I can pass the ball to anyone who gets open. I have to be able to score on my own if no one gets open. I have to play nearly the whole game without any breaks. You do that."

"Jeez, fine." I hold my hands up. "I'm sorry, man, but people are starting to call you a suck up."

"Let them." He shrugs. "When we get to high school, I'll know more about the game than them. I'll make Varsity in my sophomore year and get a full ride to Duke and join the NBA. People can call me a suck up all they want. I'll still be better than them, so I don't really care."

He's got a point. Talk about planning ahead, though. I mean, we're in seventh grade! High school's like a million years away. Man, the NBA! That would be the best life ever. No way am I going to suck up, though. Unlike the rest of the school, the kids on my team actually think I'm cool, and they don't call me names. I want to keep it that way. Besides, Jake always teaches me everything he knows. I can get to the NBA if I stick with Jake, and if he sticks with me, we'll both keep getting better together. "Next time someone calls you a suck up, I'll tell him that for you."

Jake nods with a smirk, and we start running without another word. This has been our routine since we met. Do our homework right after the last bell rings before we even leave school, so we don't have to take any heavy books home. Jog to and from school with a basketball every day. Stop at the river court on the way home every day. Then on the weekend we run to the river court in the morning, go to his house for lunch, then mine for dinner, then go back to the river court after dinner, even in the rain. And this is lax compared to summer training, when we played two or three times a day.

I'm already a better dribbler than Jake, even though he's been playing since third grade. He says it's because I'm left handed and ambidextrous, but I think I'm just plain better. I guess Jake is really good at passing and defending. I'll probably never be able to pass like he can, but that doesn't really matter. Passing is for the players who can't score.