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

in to help me out.” He glares at Kevin. “Like, where were you, dude?”

Kevin snorts. “What, you want me to come to your rescue? Not gonna happen.”

“What did you want us to do?” I ask Eric. “They’re just kids, like us. And besides, you’re the one who called him a chump.”

“It’s cool,” Eric mumbles. “Whatever. I gotta use the bathroom.”

Kevin, Clay, and I decide to walk over and check out the concession stand. Chase is already there. When he sees us coming, he flashes a fifty-dollar bill. “Hey boys, what’s your pleasure?” he says, flapping his money around. “They got a pretty lousy selection of food at this dump, no surprise, but at least they got hot dogs. Anybody want one?”

“Nah, man,” Kevin says. “And put that money away.” Kevin always thought Chase was a prep-school tool. He’s never really liked him. I can see why.

Chase goes to put his bill away, but it’s too late—some South kid spotted it. “Yo bro,” the kid yells, “mind paying for us?”

Chase grins. “Yeah, uh, I don’t think so, but how about we place a little bet on the game tomorrow night, whaddya say?”

“I’d like that,” the kid says. “It’ll be like taking candy from a baby. How much you wanna bet?”

Kevin tries to step in by saying, “We’re not interested,” but then Clay chimes in: “How much can you afford? If anything?”

“Nicely played,” says some other South kid. “But will we be able to say that after we whup up on you guys by thirty?”

And the next thing you know, kids start lobbing jabs back and forth:

“You’re not whupping anyone by thirty, except maybe, let me think . . . oh yeah. Nobody.”

“Is nobody your last name?”

“Nobody is my grandma’s last name, she’s seventy years old, and she’s about the only one you can beat on the basketball court.”

At some point I hear Carter say, “We’ll beat you like a bass drum in a marching band,” and I say back, “You’re gonna wanna JOIN the marching band after we’re done with you.”

Chase howls at that one. “Oh, you dropped that one on him good, PJ!”

Carter makes a face. “PJ? Why’d you call him PJ?”

Chase leans toward Carter. “That’s his nickname. Short for Private Jet. That how he rolls, yo!”

Carter shakes his head in disgust. “Of course it is.”

WWMS

WALTHORNE SOUTH RADIO

ALFIE:

A surprising run by North here in the third quarter has tightened this game right up, and South is only up by one, 43–42. The fact that Janeece Renfro has been in foul trouble has certainly not helped. The star guard has only been on the floor for fourteen minutes so far. There is a definite buzz in the air right now. If North found a way to pull this game off, it would be quite the upset . . .

AUSTIN

I’m still a little wound up from Carter’s PJ dig during the third quarter, but I forget about it as the game gets closer. Their best player is in foul trouble and our girls make a run, which of course gets our guys going.

“We’re in your ratty old gym and we’re still about to beat you!” someone yells in the direction of the South section. Then one of their guys hollers, “This time tomorrow night will be a very different story, my friend! Money can’t buy everything, and it DEFINITELY can’t buy you a W tomorrow night!”

And just like that, jabs start going back and forth again. It’s all pretty harmless until Eric yells, “Hey, Southies! You ever heard the phrase, ‘cheaters never prosper’? Look it up!”

Well, that gets people’s attention.

Other people in the bleachers start staring at us, and I can feel sweat pop out on my forehead. “Cool it, man,” I tell Eric, but the damage is done. I see Carter stand up and make his way toward us.

He steps into the aisle and stares at Eric. “What did you just say?”

Eric turns red, but for some reason he decides to go in even harder. “Come on man, you’re a cheater, and your coach got fired because he told you to cheat. Everyone knows it. And even if we lose and don’t make the playoffs, we’ll still get to go to our beach condos on vacation. If you guys lose, where you gonna go?”

I glare at Eric. “What are you doing, dude?”

Carter gets up in his face. “Oh, is that right? So because you boys get the fine school in the fine part of town, and play in that fancy gym with the fancy scoreboard, you think the rules don’t apply to you? It’s cool for your pal PJ here to pressure his teammate to play on a bum ankle, or some girl to keep going to school and playing on the basketball team even though she moved to another town? Is that what you’re saying?”

I try to calm things down. “Yo, Carter, he didn’t mean anything by it.”

But Carter isn’t in the mood to be calm. “He didn’t mean anything by it? Then why’d he say it twice? He didn’t mean it twice?”

A few other kids get up, and I see a couple of teachers heading our way, and I’m not really sure where this is going, but before anything else happens, the third quarter ends, Carter goes back to his section and sits down, and I think that might be the end of it.

It’s not.

WWMS

WALTHORNE SOUTH RADIO

ALFIE:

Well, it all comes down to this, folks. After putting the South team on her shoulders for much of the fourth quarter, Janeece Renfro has just fouled out with ninety seconds to play and South up by two. It was a questionable call, but the way the crowd is screaming at the refs is completely ridiculous. How are the two student sections, who have been pretty rowdy all night, supposed to behave better when they see adults screaming like this? It does make you wonder. Walthorne North center Jackie Lawlor steps to the foul line—if she makes both shots, then