Nikki on the Line by Barbara Carroll Roberts

Author:Barbara Carroll Roberts
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2019-03-05T05:00:00+00:00

In Case Being a Black Hole Wasn’t Bad Enough

Taking care of Sam got a little easier that week. We decided that twenty minutes was probably the right amount of time to ride bikes or kick a soccer ball around before we started our homework. Or if Sam wanted to jump on his pogo stick, I’d spend the twenty minutes shooting. It rained on Wednesday and we decided that whenever it rained, we could play a board game or build Lego stuff for twenty minutes. But no video games.

Sam still yammered a mile a minute, which was still annoying, but making decisions together like that, coming up with our own “rules,” made us feel like our own little team. And on Thursday, when Booker rode by on his bike and Sam and I joined him on our bikes, he kind of joined our team, too, because when Sam said, “We can only ride bikes for twenty minutes,” Booker said, “That’s cool. I’ve got to get my homework started, too.”

And, you know, it was almost fun.

Or, actually, when Booker was with us, it was definitely fun. But otherwise, well, yeah—almost fun.

But if taking care of Sam got easier that week, school sure didn’t. In history, we had a big end-of-unit test on World War II. And since I’d spent so much time on my genetics project, plus taking care of Sam, plus basketball, I’d hardly spent any time studying for the test. And—what a surprise—tests are a lot harder if you don’t study.

My English teacher piled on the work, too, assigning an essay along with all the reading we always had to do, which kept me up late three times that week.

And if all that wasn’t bad enough, I had to walk past my big height charts in the science hallway twice a day, which made me: one, cringe at how messy they were; two, worry about somebody asking me why I hadn’t done a family tree like almost everybody else; and, three, remember that I’d never be tall because of my parents’ stupid, not-tall genes.

Basketball practice didn’t get easier that week, either. We had to make fifteen layups in a row with the heavy balls, for one thing. By the time we finished, my shoulders ached so bad I actually hoped my arms would fall off. Then we learned a new offensive pattern, and since I still wasn’t playing point guard, I kept getting confused about where I was supposed to be. And since I also kept worrying about everybody thinking I was a Black Hole, I made more mistakes. During water breaks I stood apart, running the play in my head.

We had another tournament that weekend. Mom had planned to go, but Sam woke up with a fever Saturday morning, so they both had to stay home.

“Play hard. Have fun,” they called as I ran out to get in the Lawsons’ car.

And even though Mom didn’t usually have a clue about what was going on during games, I was bummed that she and Sam wouldn’t be at this tournament.

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