through two more times, and each time, Ruth won her heat (6 x 6, and the very tricky 8 x 9). Maia was on the other team, along with Christina. Ruth knew it wasn’t charitable, but when Maia screwed up and said 4 x 7 was 24, her stomach flipped with satisfaction.
Finally it was tied, and Ms. Thomas said they had to choose a designated shooter from each team to make a winning basket. It would be sudden death—the person who was picked would throw the tape ball and then the opposing team’s pick would do the same, until one of them missed. Ruth leaned back against the wall, waiting for her team to rally around Edward or Lucas, who were the most athletic in the class. But instead, someone suggested her name.
At first, she flushed with pride—was she being chosen because her team recognized her as an MVP? But then she realized that wasn’t what was going on here. “Yeah, Ruth,” Edward said, nodding. “You know how to play basketball, don’t you?”
Ruth nodded. She did know
how
—she’d watched neighborhood kids for years. But she’d never actually played the game herself.
“Of
course
she does,” said Lucas. “Duh.”
Reluctantly, Ruth took the tape ball and sank a basket into the farthest trash bin. Her team shouted and Lucas even gave her a high five.
The designated shooter for the other team was a tall boy named Jack who stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating, which wasn’t often. He narrowed his eyes and let the tape ball roll off his fingertips. He, too, made the farthest basket.
Ruth took the ball again. She was not an athlete. She could barely walk and sing simultaneously during the Christmas pageant at church. There was absolutely no way she could be lucky enough to succeed a second time around. Then she remembered how Mama said there was no such thing as luck, just prayers being answered. So even though Ruth was certain God had more important things on His mind, she called on Jesus under her breath, and made a second basket. A third. Her teammates went wild.
Water into wine? Ha,
Ruth thought. This newfound athletic skill was a true miracle.
Jack took the ball, bounced on the tips of his toes, and stuck out his tongue. He arched one arm up, but the tape got snagged on the cuff of his sweater and fell about six feet short of the closest trash can.
“We have a winner!” Ms. Thomas sang, above a chorus of
Do over!
and
Not fair!
Ruth’s team was hollering, patting her on the back and the shoulder, shouting her name. The teacher took out a bag of candy—Reese’s peanut butter cups and Nestlé Crunch bars and Gobstoppers—and everyone on Ruth’s team was allowed to stick their hand in and take a fistful.
Ruth made sure she got extra Reese’s, then walked to Christina’s desk. Maia was sitting on the top of it, whispering to Christina. “Want some?” Ruth asked, and she held out her cupped hands, letting them choose first.
“Everyone knows why you won,” Maia said.
Ruth lifted her chin a notch. “Because I knew my times tables.”
“More like because of how you look.” Maia tossed her hair. “I don’t want your dumb candy,” she said, and she walked away.
Ruth stared at her. Christina fished through the candy Ruth held, choosing a Reese’s. She unwrapped it and took a bite of the candy, leaving little ridges in the wake of her teeth. “I knew my times tables,” Ruth murmured.
“It’s not you, Ruth,” Christina said. She popped the rest of the candy into her mouth. “She just doesn’t like Black people.”
—
Ruth watched her granny’s hands twist Rachel’s hair, pulling and crisscrossing to magically create the neat cornrows that weaved across her scalp in parallel zigzags. Rachel winced and whined, like always, but the end result was the same: tight, even braids that fell down to her shoulders. “Done,” Granny pronounced, holding up the big hand mirror so that Rachel could see the back. “Ruth?”
Every other Sunday night, Granny washed and styled her
Finally it was tied, and Ms. Thomas said they had to choose a designated shooter from each team to make a winning basket. It would be sudden death—the person who was picked would throw the tape ball and then the opposing team’s pick would do the same, until one of them missed. Ruth leaned back against the wall, waiting for her team to rally around Edward or Lucas, who were the most athletic in the class. But instead, someone suggested her name.
At first, she flushed with pride—was she being chosen because her team recognized her as an MVP? But then she realized that wasn’t what was going on here. “Yeah, Ruth,” Edward said, nodding. “You know how to play basketball, don’t you?”
Ruth nodded. She did know
how
—she’d watched neighborhood kids for years. But she’d never actually played the game herself.
“Of
course
she does,” said Lucas. “Duh.”
Reluctantly, Ruth took the tape ball and sank a basket into the farthest trash bin. Her team shouted and Lucas even gave her a high five.
The designated shooter for the other team was a tall boy named Jack who stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating, which wasn’t often. He narrowed his eyes and let the tape ball roll off his fingertips. He, too, made the farthest basket.
Ruth took the ball again. She was not an athlete. She could barely walk and sing simultaneously during the Christmas pageant at church. There was absolutely no way she could be lucky enough to succeed a second time around. Then she remembered how Mama said there was no such thing as luck, just prayers being answered. So even though Ruth was certain God had more important things on His mind, she called on Jesus under her breath, and made a second basket. A third. Her teammates went wild.
Water into wine? Ha,
Ruth thought. This newfound athletic skill was a true miracle.
Jack took the ball, bounced on the tips of his toes, and stuck out his tongue. He arched one arm up, but the tape got snagged on the cuff of his sweater and fell about six feet short of the closest trash can.
“We have a winner!” Ms. Thomas sang, above a chorus of
Do over!
and
Not fair!
Ruth’s team was hollering, patting her on the back and the shoulder, shouting her name. The teacher took out a bag of candy—Reese’s peanut butter cups and Nestlé Crunch bars and Gobstoppers—and everyone on Ruth’s team was allowed to stick their hand in and take a fistful.
Ruth made sure she got extra Reese’s, then walked to Christina’s desk. Maia was sitting on the top of it, whispering to Christina. “Want some?” Ruth asked, and she held out her cupped hands, letting them choose first.
“Everyone knows why you won,” Maia said.
Ruth lifted her chin a notch. “Because I knew my times tables.”
“More like because of how you look.” Maia tossed her hair. “I don’t want your dumb candy,” she said, and she walked away.
Ruth stared at her. Christina fished through the candy Ruth held, choosing a Reese’s. She unwrapped it and took a bite of the candy, leaving little ridges in the wake of her teeth. “I knew my times tables,” Ruth murmured.
“It’s not you, Ruth,” Christina said. She popped the rest of the candy into her mouth. “She just doesn’t like Black people.”
—
Ruth watched her granny’s hands twist Rachel’s hair, pulling and crisscrossing to magically create the neat cornrows that weaved across her scalp in parallel zigzags. Rachel winced and whined, like always, but the end result was the same: tight, even braids that fell down to her shoulders. “Done,” Granny pronounced, holding up the big hand mirror so that Rachel could see the back. “Ruth?”
Every other Sunday night, Granny washed and styled her
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