Hoop Crazy (5 page)

“So where should we go first?” Debbie asked.

I was thinking either the exit, the gift shop or the snack bar, but I was smart enough to stay quiet. My mother had already warned me about making ‘snarky' little remarks to Nerd. It was hard. He was annoying. Really annoying.

“I'd like to go to see the dinosaur exhibit,” Ned said.

“You like dinosaurs?” I asked. I thought he only liked bugs.

“Don't you?” he asked.

“They're okay … if you're in grade one.”

My mother shot me another dirty look and I buttoned my lip.

“They have one of the best Cretaceous era col
lections in the world,” Ned said. “Let's go straight there.”

“I thought you wanted to see the dinosaurs?” I questioned.

“That is the dinosaurs,” Ned said with a chuckle.

“Don't you know
anything
about dinosaurs?”

“I know that I think that they're —” I stopped myself as I caught sight of the look my mother was giving me.

“Didn't you do a project on dinosaurs in school, Nick?” she asked.

“Yep. Grade one.”

She shot me another one of those ‘don't you dare' looks.

“And that's when I learned how interesting they are,” I said.

I trudged along behind my mother, Debbie and Nerd. He was trying to read a museum guidebook as we walked, giving out directions and little tidbits of information, most of which I didn't understand … or care to understand.

“They also have a very complete set of amber holding various specimens of insect life,” Ned gushed.

“Bugs?”

“Insects in amber … trapped from prehistoric times. Isn't that excellent!”

“Yeah. Almost as exciting as the dinosaurs,” I mumbled.

“So first we'll see the dinosaurs and then — excuse me!” Ned said loudly as he bumped into a woman pushing a stroller.

“I'm so sorry … I was reading and I didn't see you.”

“That's alright, nobody was hurt,” the woman said.

“I was just excited to go and see the dinosaurs,” Ned explained.

“It's a great collection. Especially those from the Cretaceous era.”

Did everybody in the world except me know about this?

“I'm sure you and your brother will enjoy it,” she said.

“He's not my brother!” I protested.

Ned shook his head. “We're good friends. We were even born on the same day.”

“The same day in the same year?” she asked. Ned nodded his head. “We're the same age exactly.”

“Not exactly,” Debbie said. “Nick was born three hours before you, Ned, so he's older than you.”

“That's hard to believe,” the woman said, using a tone like she really didn't believe it.

“I'm the right size for my age,” I said. “It's him that's different.”

“He certainly is —”

She stopped as her baby, who had been gurgling, started to cry.

“Enjoy the dinosaurs, boys,” she said, “and I'll take care of my own little monster.”

We started off again.

“That happens to Ned all the time,” Debbie said.

“You mean bumping into things?” I asked.

“I meant people always thinking he's older. Although you're right, he is always bumping into something.”

“That was a some
one
,” I corrected her.

“That's not usually a problem where we live,” she said with a laugh. “But it would be more of an issue here. There are always so many people around.”

“Here?” I asked. The museum was practically deserted.

“Everywhere,” Debbie said. “At home it's not unusual for us to go two or three weeks at a time without seeing anybody but each other.”

“That would certainly be different,” my mother agreed. “I'm not sure I could get used to that.”

“I'm sure that I couldn't,” I said. “I like having people around.”

“Here it is!” Ned exclaimed.

We were standing before a narrow passage. I recognized it as being the entrance to the dinosaur hall. The lighting was low and the walls were covered
with fake bamboo and painted with pictures of dinosaurs. We walked along, the sound of drumming coming from hidden speakers. That was so stupid — like who did they think was doing the drumming back then?

The passage opened up to the dinosaur hall. It was gigantic, with a high, high ceiling. All around us were the massive remains of the dinosaurs. They were gigantic!

I stopped and looked up and stared. It took my breath away. It had been years since I'd been here — since grade one — and I'd forgotten how big and impressive this was. It was my favorite place in the whole museum.

“Pretty amazing, isn't it?” my mother said.

“It's really …” I stopped myself. “Okay.”

“Just okay?” Debbie asked.

“Maybe it would be more impressive if you hadn't been here before.”

“How long can we stay?” Ned asked.

“We can stay as long as you want,” his mother said.

I looked at my watch. Closing time was in two hours. That would be long enough … maybe I could even come back some other time with my mother. Some time when Ned wasn't around to spoil it.

“Look, Ned, books are good, but you have to play if you want to understand the game,” I said.

“I'm almost finished,” he said.

He was sitting on a folding chair on the lawn be-side the driveway while Mark and Kia and I played ball. At least if he'd been looking at us, instead of having his nose buried in the book, he might have learned a couple of the plays.

“How about if we take a break for a drink,” Kia suggested.

“Sure. A five-minute break would be okay.”

I walked into the garage and turned on the tap. By the time I reached the end of the hose Kia was already through drinking and Mark was slurping down water. I waited for my turn. It was cold and
felt wonderful as it slopped into my mouth and down my throat as well as spilling all over my chin and onto my T-shirt. Water from a hose when you were tired and hot was just about the best thing in the world.

“You want a drink?” I called over to Ned.

Ned looked up from the book. “What?” he asked. There was a look of total confusion on his face. I didn't know if that was from my question or what he was reading. Either way I wasn't encouraged.

“Do you want a drink?” I repeated. “Reading can really work up a sweat.”

“Um … I'm fine,” he mumbled, diving back into the book.

He was reading a book on basketball that he'd found on one of the shelves in my room. It had been around since I was little. It was a pretty good book — written by a for mer NBA player — but was no substitute for actually having played the game more than two or three times in your life.

“He is awfully tall,” Kia said quietly as she stood beside me.

“You're right about both things,” I said, lowering my voice and turning away from Ned.

“What do you mean both things?”

“He is tall … and he is awful.”

Mark quietly chuckled to himself.

“You don't know that. He could be good.”

“You're right … he has almost finished the
entire
book, so he could be just wonderful,” I said sarcastically.

“Let me just try,” Kia said. “Besides you told me your mother wanted you to include him, and if he just sits there all day without playing, you could be in trouble.”

She had a point. “Sure, run a few plays. I'll sit out … right here where I can see everything.”

I plopped down on the grass — right into a spot where the hose was still running. Instantly I was soaked right through. It felt nice.

“Come on, Ned, it's your turn to play,” Kia said.

“I've just got two pages to go,” he protested.

Kia grabbed the book from him. “It ends with everybody living happily ever after,” she said. “Now get up and play.”

Reluctantly he rose to his feet. He just towered over Kia. Somehow I'd almost forgotten just how tall he was. Tall and goofy. I'd seen him stumble and trip and bump into things more times than I could count.

“We're going to try to run a few plays,” Kia said.

“Do you want me to go high post or low post?” Ned asked.

“What?” Kia asked, reflecting my own shock at what he'd said.

“Do you want me to go high post or low post? Am I using those words wrong?” Ned asked.

“No, not at all. I just didn't know you knew about stuff like that,” she said.

“I didn't until I reached chapter seven in the book. It stated that the center, also known as the big man, or the number five, should always set up in the post. I just assumed I'd be the center because I'm so much bigger than everybody else.”

“Sure, you're the center.”

“So do you want me to set up high post or low post?”

“I think low post would be better. Just go over to —”

“About here,” Ned said, taking up at just about the correct spot to the right of the hoop. “There were diagrams in the chapter,” he explained.

“Good. Now what's going to happen is that I'm going to set up a play. I'm going to send the ball out to Mark. He'll send it back to me and then I'm going to send a chest pass in to you. Understand?”

He nodded his big head.

“And then you have two choices. You can either put the ball up for the net, try to score, or you can pass it back out to one of us.”

“Depending on whether the other team doubles down on me and who they leave open,” Ned said.

“Yeah, that's right,” Kia said.

“Chapter five described the double team and how to break it up by searching for the open man,” Ned explained.

“Did you read that book or memorize it?” I asked as I got up from the ground.

“Usually I do both. I have a photographic memory. I remember everything I read or see or hear.”

“Everything?”

“Pretty well.”

“Ned, it looks like you're going to be quite the player,” Kia said.

She was saying those words to Ned, but she was actually looking at and talking to me.

“Okay, shall we try it?” Kia asked.

Mark broke around Ned, using him as a screen, and went to the top of the key. Kia shot him in the ball. He faked a shot — making his invisible man jump up into the air — and then passed to Kia. She grabbed the ball, turned and passed to Ned and the ball hit him squarely in the middle of his face! He toppled over backwards, like a tree being chopped down, his glasses flew through the air, and blood exploded out of his face!

“Oh my goodness!” Kia screamed.

“Ned, are you okay?” I yelled.

He was sprawled out on the driveway, his hands covering his face, blood just flowing out from
between his fingers.

“I'll get some ice!” Kia yelled and started to run for the house.

“Get lots of ice!” I yelled after her. His nose looked even bigger than it had been a few minutes ago.