Chapter 14

Chapter 14 Fighting Words fighting words (fighting words), n. Words that are so venomous and full of malice that they cause another person to fight back physically. Fighting words are not protected as free speech under the First Amendment. "You're on," said Scott. Nobody bothered to pick up any of the equipment. The jump ropes, the Frisbees, the milk crate, the extra balls were all left right where they were. Instead, all the kids of 4–0 who hadn't gone home lined up on either side of the basketball court. Evan dribbled the ball, trying to get that feeling of looseness that helped him play his best. "We'll play

to seven by ones. Straight up. King's court. And you have to take it past the big crack to clear." Evan pointed to the wide crack in the blacktop that ran twenty feet from the basket. That was the line they always used to clear the ball for half-court games. "Who's the ref?" asked Scott. "No ref, no fouls," said Evan. "Just play. If the ball falls through the hoop, it's a point. If it doesn't, go home and cry to your mother. Okay?" Evan was practicing his crossover dribbling while he talked. He was starting to feel his rhythm. He looked at Scott standing at the top of the key. There it was, that look on Scott's face—the one that seemed to say, Why bother? I always win. More than anything else, Evan wanted to wipe that look off Scott Spencer's face, once and for all. "Yeah, okay," said Scott. "But who goes first?" "You," said Evan, shooting him a chest pass so fast that Scott didn't even have time to put his arms up. The ball hit him in the chest and fell at his feet. Evan heard some of the kids laugh and noticed

Megan crossing her arms and frowning. "Good start!" shouted Paul from the sidelines, as Scott picked up the ball and cleared it behind the line. "Nice, Treski," said Scott. "Real nice." Evan ran up to the clear line and got low, ready to defend. Scott dribbled the ball, hanging behind the line. Then he faked left and drove right, blowing past Evan. Scott was quick, but Evan was quicker. He came up from behind, and just as Scott was shooting the ball, Evan clawed it out of the air, whacking it so hard it smacked down on the blacktop. On the way, his hand smashed into Scott's face. Scott crumpled to the ground. Undefended, Evan took the easy shot and scored his first point. "You can't do that!" said Scott. "You mauled me!" He sat on the blacktop, his legs sprawled, looking like he couldn't even get up. Evan rebounded and dribbled toward the clear line. He put a hand up to his ear and pretended to

concentrate hard. "Do you hear a whistle, Scott? I guess not, 'cause there isn't one. Man up." Scott jumped to his feet, and Ryan yelled out, "Faker!" "One-nothing," called out Adam. "Evan's ball." Evan didn't even bother to juke. He just plowed right into Scott, driving him to the blacktop before charging the basket for the easy lay-up. "Oh, man!" shouted Ryan. Megan shook her head. "Why even call it basketball if you're going to play like that?" Evan watched as Scott started to get up slowly. But he had already cleared the ball at the line and was charging to the basket before Scott got on his feet. He made another easy lay-up, as pretty as a bird. "Three-zip," shouted Adam. "Scott," said Ryan. "C'mon, show a little backbone." This time, when Evan started his move to the basket, Scott lunged at the ball. He stripped it from

Evan's hands, but the ball went shooting out of bounds. "Out," shouted Adam. "Evan's ball!" So Evan took it out again, and this time he faked left, right, left, so that Scott was leaning the wrong way when Evan finally made his move. "It's basketball, Scott. Not freeze tag!" called out Kevin. Evan slowly dribbled the ball back. Scott faced him across the line, scowling, with his hands on his hips. "None of this counts," said Scott. "This is dirt ball. This is trash. None of this counts." "Why not?" said Evan, dribbling steadily. "You agreed. No fouls. You said okay. Right?" He took a step past the clear line, still dribbling the ball slowly right in front of his body. Then Evan spread his hands out wide, the ball bouncing between the two of them, unprotected. "Go on, take it!" When Scott made his move, trying to grab the ball out of the air, Evan was ready. Faster than an eagle diving, he snatched the ball back, made a spin move

around Scott, and drove for the basket. He jumped as high as he could, and just barely managed to stuff the ball with both hands through the hoop. "Slammed!" screamed Paul, doing a dance on the sidelines. "This is gross," said Megan. "I'm going home." She picked up her mailbag and slung it over her shoulder. "Jessie, are you coming?" "No," said Jessie in a small voice. She was sitting on the grass, her knees pulled up to her chest. "I'll stay." Megan nodded, then walked toward the parking lot. Evan noticed her leaving, but told himself, Who cares? "Four-nothing," said Adam. "Hey, Evan. Wrap it up, would you? I have to get home." Evan quickly ran the score up to six-nothing with a jump shot from mid-key and a little floater right in front of the basket. All the guys on the sideline were screaming Shutout, shutout!, and Evan dribbled the ball in time to their chant. He glanced at Scott. Scott was