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out of my bag to wipe the sweat off my face.
    â€œMr. Roberts was pretty tough,” Kia said.
    â€œYeah, he was.” I didn’t say anything, but I thought he was especially tough on the two of us.
    â€œAll right, everybody!” Mr. Roberts. “Get to class. The bell be going shortly.”
    Kids started to move more quickly, gathering up their things and heading for the door.
    A couple of times during the workout I’d heard comments from kids about us being there. I think it was even worse for Kia. Some of the guys had made snide remarks about Kia being a girl. Maybe it was bad enough to be competing with a grade three, but a grade three
girl
seemed to make it even worse. I hadn’t really thought about it much before — I hardly even thought of Kia as a girl — but it must have been even harder for her to try out for the team.
    Kia and I started out along with the few remaining stragglers.
    â€œNick, Kia,” Mr. Roberts called out. “Could I speak to you to for a minute.”
    The last few kids exited the gym, leaving us alone with Mr. Roberts. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it. Had he decided to cut us already?
    â€œI just wanted to talk to the two of you for a few minutes,” he began. “I’m a little concerned about the two of you being on the team. You know we’ll be playing against other schools, right?”
    â€œYeah, of course,” Kia said.
    â€œAnd I’m just worried about the fact that the other school teams will all be made up of older and bigger kids.”
    â€œWe know,” I said.
    â€œI don’t want you two getting hurt. Those kids won’t know the two of you and they won’t necessarily be as gentle with you as the kids at our school were during the three-on-three tournament.”
    â€œGentle?” I asked. I still had sore ribs on one side from where Roy had elbowed me in the last game of the three-on-three tournament.
    â€œThese games will be very serious.”
    â€œNo more serious than the games our rep team plays,” Kia said.
    â€œBut the difference is that you play those games against kids your own age, right?” Mr. Roberts asked.
    â€œYeah. We play in a league where everybody is the same age. The older kids play minor-bantam.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” Mr. Roberts said. “I just don’t know if I want to take responsibility if one of you gets hurt.”
    â€œBut we have letters of permission from our parents,” I said, pulling the form out of my pocket.
    â€œThis piece of paper will protect me, but it won’t protect you,” Mr. Roberts said. “The other schools are going to take advantage of your size, or I guess your lack of size. They’re going to put somebody big on you to shove you around, intimidate you, create a mismatch… at least that’s what I’d do.”
    Of course he was right. That’s what any good coach would do.
    â€œIs there any way I can talk you two out of this?” Mr. Roberts asked.
    â€œNope,” Kia said decisively.
    I nodded my head in agreement, although he had almost convinced me. I liked basketball. I didn’t like getting smacked around.
    â€œIn that case you’re welcome to come to the rest of the tryouts.”
    â€œThanks,” I said.
    â€œJust keep in mind that coming out isn’t a guarantee of making the team. Winning the three-on-three tournament last week means absolutely nothing. You’re going to have to earn your spot on the team.”
    â€œWe understand,” Kia said.
    â€œAnd just because you’re younger doesn’t mean I’m going to take it easier on you. If anything I’m going to be harder.”
    I nodded my head. I thought that was what he’d already done in the first practice.
    â€œAnd even if you do make the team, you can’t expect to get much playing time. You’ll be well