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hard.”
    â€œThat’s good.”
    â€œIt is?”
    â€œOf course. Hard workouts will separate those who can play from those who can’t play, so you and Kia should stand out.”
    â€œWell… we did get Mr. Roberts’ attention today,” I said, without saying how we had gotten his attention.
    â€œSo you figure you have a good shot at making the team.”
    â€œI didn’t say that. No grade threes, or even grade fours, have ever made the team before. There’s some really, really good players in grade five.”
    My father’s face became thoughtful, and he slowly nodded his head.
    â€œMaking the team isn’t that important,” he said.
    â€œWhat?” I’d heard the words, just couldn’t believe them coming out of my father’s mouth.
    â€œMaking the team isn’t —”
    â€œI heard. I just don’t understand,” I said, interrupting him.
    â€œIt would be nice if you made the team,but that isn’t the important part.”
    â€œThan what is?”
    â€œTrying. Being there, putting yourself on the line and attempting something that’s diffi-cult. Are you and Kia trying your hardest?”
    â€œOf course!”
    â€œThen that’s what matters. You give it your best shot and if you’re not named to the team, then at least you walk away with your head held high.”
    â€œI guess that makes sense,” I admitted.
    â€œGood. How about you finish up some work while I go downstairs and make us two humungous bowls of chocolate ice cream?”
    â€œWith a little whipped cream on top?”
    â€œNope.” He smiled. “A
lot
of whipped cream. How long till you’re finished?”
    â€œNo more than five minutes.”
    â€œThat’ll just give me enough time to get them ready. Hurry up,” he said as he got up.
    I turned back to my work. What he’d said should have been encouraging, but it wasn’t. I’d been thinking that the best thing that could happen with the tryouts was to either quit now, or just sort of go through the motions so I wouldn’t make the team. Now those were no longer choices.

Chapter 6

Maybe…Maybe Not

    Mr. Roberts blew his whistle. The shrieking blasted off the walls and echoed around until everybody had stopped.
    â€œIt isn’t that tricky!” Mr. Roberts yelled. “Let me explain it one more time.”
    We’d been divided into three columns and were supposed to execute a drill called the weave. So far it hadn’t been working very well. Mr. Roberts walked to the front of the middle group.
    â€œIt’s very simple. The man in the middle starts with the ball. He then passes it to one of the other two men — players. And all you do is follow the pass, taking the spot occupiedby the player who just received the pass, while that player moves into the center spot. And this pattern continues as you move down the court until the final man lays up the ball. Any questions?”
    Nobody said a word, but, judging from the expressions on kids’ faces, there wasn’t much doubt that there was still a lot of doubt.
    â€œOkay, let’s try it again,” Mr. Roberts said. He tossed a ball to the man in the middle and then stepped out of the way.
    Dean took the ball, bounced it a few times, tossed it to the player on his left, and then instantly turned and started to run to the right and — the whistle blasted and everybody stopped again.
    â€œCan’t anybody do this right?” Mr. Roberts demanded. “Anybody?”
    Everybody looked down to the ground except Kia. She stuck up her hand and motioned for me to do the same. Reluctantly I put up my hand. Marcus did the same.
    â€œGood. Let’s see it work.”
    Marcus took up a spot in the middle while Kia and I moved separately to spots off to opposite sides. Marcus took a ball off the kid who was supposed to start the next rush.
    â€œNow,” Mr. Roberts