Triple Threat by Eric Walters

to see him and back out. If things worked out, we could play them, win, and they’d leave before our parents got there. Then all they’d see is what we told them—JYD fooling around on a court with us.
    â€œWhat time is it?” Kia asked.
    â€œTwo minutes later than the last time you asked, which makes it ten minutes to one.”
    â€œHe’ll be here soon.”
    â€œIf he’s coming,” I said.
    â€œWhy wouldn’t he be coming?” Kia asked.
    â€œWell … you know.”
    â€œKnow what?”
    â€œIt’s just that he’s a big star. He’s got lots of places he should be, lots of things he should be doing.”
    â€œAnd he told us that this was the place he was going to be and the thing he was going to be doing,” Kia said. “You were there when he agreed.”
    â€œI know. I heard him … it’s just … ”
    â€œJust what?”
    â€œIt’s just that maybe he didn’t think he had any choice but to say yes. Maybe he thought it over and then he realized that he couldn’t make it.”
    â€œNo, he wouldn’t do that … would he?” she asked.
    I thought about what he’d said, what I’d read about JYD, the things he and Johnnie and QTMC had said at the performance, the person I thought he was.
    â€œNo,” I said, shaking my head. “JYD gave his word and he’s going to be here,” I said.
    â€œYou’re sure, right?”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    â€œWell, in that case, it’s time. Come on.”
    Kia stood up and started walking toward the court. I got up and trailed after her. For better or worse wewere going to do it. We walked through the gate and onto the edge of the court. At first nobody noticed. They were all looking at the action on the court and not two little kids standing at the side.
    Standing there, watching, I started to get more nervous again. What were they going to say when they saw us? How would they react? I knew JYD would come if he could, but things did happen. What if he got caught in traffic or slept in? What if he slept in and he came but was thirty minutes late? Thirty minutes when these big guys could kick our ball—and us—over the fence.
    Kia started dribbling her ball. She was using the ball that JYD had signed yesterday. My ball was safely at home. One ball drop-kicked over the fence was enough.
    â€œHey!” Kia yelled and I practically jumped out of my shoes. “We get the winners!”
    The guy dribbling the ball stopped. Everybody stopped. The people standing and watching the game all turned to look at us. That was smart. Whatever was going to happen to us was going to be a lot more interesting than what was happening in the game.
    â€œWhat are you two doing back here?” the biggest of the jerks asked.
    â€œTaking you up on your invitation,” Kia said. “You told us that if we wanted to come back we had to play, so we’re here to play you.”
    Everybody started to laugh. I couldn’t blame them. This was a joke. Me and Kia playing them.
    â€œGo away, kids,” the biggest guy said.
    â€œYou said to come back when we were ready to play, so we’re back. We challenge you three to a game. That is unless you’re afraid to play us,” Kia added, and the laughter got even louder.
    â€œYou two have got to be either the bravest little midgets I ever met or the stupidest.”
    â€œCould be both,” I said, to another rain of laughter. Actually I wasn’t joking. This was an act of stupidity as much as bravery.
    â€œEither way, as soon as you finish with your game, we get to play the winners,” Kia said.
    â€œLike you said the last time, there’s only two of you, so a three-on-three game would be hard … unless you’re giving us a handicap … you know, letting us outnumber you like this,” he said.
    â€œYou got a big enough handicap as it is,” Kia said.