Boot Camp by Eric Walters Page B

going to rush across the room and start fighting again, but Jerome got in between them.
    â€œSit down,” he ordered, and Jamal slumped back down onto the bench.
    â€œWe’re here for a discussion. Jamal, did you hit him?”
    â€œI didn’t hit him,” Jamal said.
    I knew that was a lie. Everybody in the whole room knew that was a—
    â€œI pushed him,” Jamal said. “But I
should
have hit him.”
    â€œThey were trash talking,” Kia said.
    â€œYeah, saying how they wiped the floor with us!” Jamal said.
    Actually they
had
wiped the floor with us, but I guess that wasn’t the point.
    â€œThey were disrespecting us,” Jamal continued.
    â€œNothing worse than a bunch of bad winners,” Kia said.
    â€œYeah, exactly!” Jamal agreed.
    Strange, the two of them agreeing on something.
    â€œHow about a bunch of bad losers?” Jerome asked.
    I knew he didn’t really want an answer to that question.
    â€œI don’t care how it got started,” Jerome said, “but it’s going to end right here. Nobody is going to be trash talking anymore,” he said, looking at the other team. “If I’d heard it during the game, I would have stopped it right there and then. And nobody is going to be putting their hands on anybody else,” he said, looking down the line at the members of our team.
    No one said anything.
    â€œNow, we’re only a few minutes from the end of the day. Everybody head out and get ready to go home…everybody except Jamal, Kia and Nick.”

Chapter Eleven
    I understood him asking for Jamal to stay behind, and even Kia, but why me? I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t pushed anybody, or even argued. All I’d done was try to have everybody get along and play ball together. I was the guy who got Jamal to come back and rejoin the team.
    â€œYou three really got your butts kicked out there,” Jerome said. “You really took a beating. They made you look bad. Man, I don’t think I ever got beaten that badly in my whole—”
    â€œYeah, we lost,” Kia said, cutting him off.
    â€œDo you know why you lost so bad?” he asked.
    I figured that was another one of those questions that didn’t need to be answered.
    â€œWould you say that I know basketball?” he asked.
    â€œOf course, you know basketball,” I said. “You’re in the NBA.”
    â€œAnd I know basketball players. I know there is no way that the three of you working together on the same team should be blown off the court like that. Do you know why you lost so bad?”
    I knew, but again, I wasn’t going to answer.
    â€œYou didn’t play like a team,” Jerome said. “You know there is no
I
in team.”
    â€œBut there is in
win
,” Jamal said.
    â€œAnd I didn’t see any
W
on the standings board,” Jerome said. “I saw six games and six losses.”
    â€œI played as well as I could,” Jamal said. “I scored more than half of the points in every game.”
    â€œAnd how many assists did you get?” Jerome asked.
    â€œNot many,” he said under his breath.
    â€œYou’re right…if you consider none to be not many.”
    â€œI got some assists…didn’t I?” he asked and looked at me.
    I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œWe can’t win if you don’t pass the ball,” Kia snapped.
    â€œMaybe you shouldn’t be talking,” Jerome said. “How many times did you pass the ball to Jamal?” Jerome asked Kia.
    â€œWell…”
    â€œYou can’t point a finger at him unless you point one at yourself,” Jerome said.
    Kia didn’t answer. She looked at the same patch of floor that Jamal was already staring at.
    â€œAnd what about you, Nick?”
    â€œMe?” I asked in shock. “I passed to both of them.”
    â€œYou passed the ball, but you also