Kickoff! by Tiki Barber

Author:Tiki Barber
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books

CHAPTER EIGHT

HANDS UP!

* * *

TIKI SAT IN SCIENCE CLASS, LISTENING TO MR. Wheeler talk about different elements and their electrons. Every minute or so, Mr. Wheeler would throw out a question, like “Silver! How many electrons?” It was like he’d thrown a quick square-out pass that nailed the students right in the numbers.

Hands would shoot up, mostly in the front rows. Mr. Wheeler would scan them with his fierce eagle eyes and serious expression, then extend his arm, point a finger at one of the kids, and say, “YOU!”

Then the kid would have to spit out the right answer. If he or she was correct, Mr. Wheeler would pump his fist and go, “Yessss!”

If the kid was wrong, Mr. Wheeler would fake throwing a rolled-up ball of paper at his or her head. The class would giggle with nervous laughter, glad it wasn’t them.

Tiki sat glued to his seat. He wanted to raise his hand—after all, he’d promised his mom he would—but he was terrified of actually doing it!

Ronde had helped him a lot last night, going over the periodic table with him until the electron numbers were burned into Tiki’s brain.

He knew he had the right answers. But somehow, he still wasn’t sure enough to risk being wrong. Not in Mr. Wheeler’s class, anyway.

It wasn’t that it hurt so much getting hit with a rolled-up ball of paper. It didn’t—not for more than a second, anyway. It was the embarrassment that hurt. All those kids laughing at you . . .

Finally, toward the end of the period, Tiki managed to work up his courage. Remembering his mom’s words about standing up and speaking out, he forced himself to lift his arm when Mr. Wheeler said, “Krypton—how many?”

Tiki had to prop his right hand up with his left, to keep it from shaking.

Mr. Wheeler noticed the new hand right away. “YOU!” he said, turning and pointing straight at Tiki. His angry eyes burned through Tiki like a laser.

Tiki stood up, opened his mouth to answer—and froze. For a short, dreadful moment, he actually forgot the question!

But then he took a deep breath, and thank goodness, it came back to him.

“Well?” Mr. Wheeler demanded.

“Ei-eight,” said Tiki, in a voice not much louder than a whisper.

“What?” Mr. Wheeler said, cupping a hand to his ear.

“Eight,” Tiki said again, louder this time.

“I can’t hear you!” Mr. Wheeler thundered.

“EIGHT!!” Tiki thundered right back, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Eight is correct!” Mr. Wheeler said, pumping his fist. “Yessss!”

Tiki felt a wave of relief flooding through him. He took another deep breath and started to sit back down. “Yessss!” he said under his breath, pumping his own fist in victory.

Mr. Wheeler came over to Tiki’s desk. Towering over him, the teacher looked down and said, “Very impressive, Barber. You need to speak up more. Take note, class—Mr. Barber is on it. So . . . no more hiding for him.”

The class laughed, but Tiki didn’t mind this time. Much to his surprise, raising his hand—and taking a chance on being wrong—had turned out to be a pretty good idea.

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