Chapter 17
The Twelve Shortest Boys in the School
The day dragged by as I sat frozen in my classroom. I had thirty minutes after the bell rang when I got to do whatever I wanted. Apparently, what I wanted most was to freeze.
I paused grading papers to rub my arms, trying to fight off the cold. I was just starting back when there was a knock at the door. “It’s unlocked.”
A head appeared around the edge of the door. “I have something important to talk with you about.”
“I’m sorry, do I know you? I don’t remember you from my classes, but I am new.”
“You wouldn’t remember me, ma’am, but I remember you. I’ve got something to explain, then a big favor to ask. It’s a huge favor too. So, you can say no if you need to.”
“And you remember me from?”
“I’m Angel. Do you remember me from before?”
The realization hit me instantly. Angel. The planet still had my shoe from that muddy encounter on my first day. A smile cracked through my frozen face. “Yes, Angel. I remember you.”
“Well, I remember you too. That’s why I told coach about you. This is going to sound strange to you. I’ll say it the best way I can.”
He took a breath, gathering his thoughts. “You see, the school has six basketball teams. We play against each other for the season, and the winners get to go to Puerto Rico to play. It’s the biggest thing on base next to football—soccer, I mean.”
“Angel?” I interrupted gently, trying to see where this was heading.
“I know, ma’am, I told you it was hard to explain. Coach was talking to us today. He has a vision.” He took a quiet moment, his expression turning serious. “He told the other coaches that he didn’t want to be part of the player draft. He said that if they lined up all the boys and counted off the twelve smallest, he’d just take them. He sat completely out of the draft.”
A wide smile spread across Angel’s face, though it didn’t quite match the grim reality of the statistics. “So, that’s the team you’d be looking at. All the other coaches are saying that we don’t have a single chance to win.” His smile grew even bigger. “But this coach is different, and he thinks we are different. He’s going to take us international. Think about that—the shortest team ever, going to Puerto Rico!”
“And you think you can win?” I asked.
“It’s going to happen. He’s got this way of playing that no one can guard against. I know we can win this. There’s just one problem.”
“Angel, listen to me,” I said, leaning back. “I played basketball on a girls’ team when I was eight years old. I was on my older sisters’ team, which means everyone was at least two years older than me. And two years taller. I don’t know a thing about boys’ basketball. I don’t know how you want me to help.”
“That’s the best part, ma’am. We had a team meeting. The coach explained to all of us what we needed to win. See, the league rules say we have to have two coaches at every single practice and game. There must be two adults present. But any regular coach he hires is going to want a hand in training us and changing his system.”
“And he doesn’t want that,” I said, the lightbulb finally turning on in my mind.
“He doesn’t want that at all,” Angel nodded eagerly. “He wants someone who can follow directions… and stay out of his way.”
“I see.”
“Each one of us had to name a teacher and tell him why we thought our choice was the best. I told the whole team about the day we met in the mud. I told them how you actually listened to me. We all took a vote, and we decided it had to be you. See, we know you have a choice about this, but we really don’t have a choice. We need you to say yes.”
He looked down at his shoes, suddenly shy. “I understand it will take up your family time. You can check with your husband first.”
Looking at Angel standing there in my freezing classroom, I felt an instant, fierce attachment to those twelve boys. My mind flashed back to that eight-year-old girl on her sisters’ court. During one frantic practice, I had literally run right through my older sister’s legs, snagging the ball out of mid-air and quickly passing it off to a teammate. Passing was my only hope back then; I couldn’t shoot over their high reaches, and I certainly couldn’t charge against their height.
I knew exactly what this coach had in mind, even if I didn’t know the official layout of the rulebook. I knew the rules of a short kid’s game. You have to be fast, you have to be clever, and you have to use their height against them.
Excitement surged through me, completely replacing the chill in my bones.
“Yes, Angel. Yes. I can do that.”
“I’ll speak with you tomorrow, then, to finalize it?” he asked, his eyes lighting up.
“No. I’m telling you yes right now. I can do that.”
I spend most of my life staying in my lane until someone crosses over into it.