Rivals by Tommy Greenwald (top 100 novels of all time .txt) 📕

“I didn’t tell on him. You can ask Ms. Vallone,” I say. I feel like I’ve said that sentence about fifty times over the last three months. But no one is listening.

“It doesn’t matter,” Janeece says, even though it does matter, a lot. “I don’t even care. I’m not mad at you, anyway. Carter Haswell is the one who cheated. It was his fault and he knows it.”

“If it’s Carter’s fault, then how come I’m the one eating lunch by myself every day?”

Janeece and Callie look at each other, then back at me. “Are you going to sign it or not?” Callie asks.

I sign it.

“Thanks, Alfie,” Janeece says. “And no matter what happened, I still think you’re, like, an amazing sports announcer.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They get up from the table and start to walk away.

“Yes, by the way,” I say to Janeece.

She turns back, confused. “Huh?”

“To answer your question from three months ago, yes, I think Carter has a crush on you.”

Her face breaks into a giant grin before she can control it. “Oh, wow! Uh, huh, well, whatever, who cares, right?”

You do, I want to tell her, but I don’t.

“Hey Alfie, you want to come sit with us?” Callie says. “I mean, everyone makes mistakes, right? I think people are over it by now.”

“Thanks,” I tell her. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Cool!”

They walk away.

I finish my lunch alone and then leave.

CARTER

I was suspended from school for three days and suspended from the basketball team until, according to the letter my mom got, “Carter has shown marked improvement in both academic performance and personal judgment.”

The AAU program said they will take me back only if I’m reinstated to the school team.

Coach Benny lost his job because of me.

Or maybe I got suspended because of him?

I’m honestly not sure.

My friends try to make me laugh, and sometimes it works, but usually it doesn’t. Most people at school have been really nice, even the teachers, but one day a few weeks ago Sham and I were walking down the hall, and another kid on the basketball team, a skinny seventh grader named Paul Mastrano, ran up to me and said, “Hey Carter, so, yeah, uh, I just wanted to say that just because you’re a big basketball star, everyone thinks you’re, like, the victim here. But you’re not. You cheated and because of you, our team is doing really badly, and also, I don’t get to get coached by the guy who is, like, a total legend and the greatest coach ever. And my parents are really mad about that, and so are some other parents and kids, even if they don’t tell you. So, yeah, I just thought you ought to know that.”

“Dude, are you serious right now?” Sham barked. Paul was just standing there, breathing hard, with his body tense, like he half-expected me to hit him or something.

But I wasn’t mad. The kid was right, and pretty brave, too. “Yeah, man, I agree,” I told him. “See you around.”

Paul looked shocked. “See you around too,” he said, and then took off down the hall.

I’ve been practicing a lot of basketball, like every day for hours. I watch the team’s games from the last row of the bleachers, where no one can see me. The guys are hanging in there. It hurts to watch.

Guitar is going pretty well. I taught myself “Purple Rain” the other day. I’m getting okay at chords, but I will never allow anyone to hear me attempt a solo.

Eddy has been tutoring me in math, and I’ve been paying attention this time. I got a 71 on the last test. The right way.

My dad is still looking for a job. Rico said he’s trying to find a project for him, but nothing has come through so far.

My mom is still working double shifts at the assisted living center, so I barely see her. She still smiles when she sees me, and hugs and kisses me, and says she loves me, but I know I broke her heart a little. The only thing she ever said to me about it was, “You made a mistake. Learn from it. And never do it again.”

I haven’t spoken to Alfie Jenks since the day it happened.

AUSTIN

Turns out that my dad was right—Clay Elkind getting injured was really good for my game.

Without Clay in the lineup, I’ve had to pick up the slack offensively, and I’ve been shooting the ball well. I scored 21 points against Ackerton, which is my all-time high, and at the steakhouse after the game, my dad forgot to tell me everything I did wrong. He wanted to go over every basket, and the ice cream sundae was delicious.

He didn’t seem to care that we’d lost, 51–43.

On AAU, Coach Cash has been starting me at the point, which basically means my job is to dish to KJ, our massive center, or Darian, our two-guard who barely ever misses from three. I think pretty much everyone on the team knows that this kid named Alonzo should be starting ahead of me, since he’s the best ball handler I’ve ever seen and a lightning-quick passer, but no one says anything, because I think word is out by now that my parents are one of the main sponsors of the team. Coach Cash even lets my sister, Liv, sit on the bench at the end of games, if we’re winning by a lot. And we usually are. This team is really good, even without Carter.

We’re 9 and 3 after we beat Runs’n’Guns, a program from upstate. In the postgame circle, Coach Cash makes an announcement. “Guys, we’ve got our first overnight tournament coming up in a few weeks, the Mid-Atlantic Invitational. We’re going to be playing teams from the tristate area—some terrific competition. I know some of their coaches, these are some really good clubs. We’re going to be sending out an email with hotel information and costs, but I’ve got some great news to get us started; we’ll