The Rivals

There are only three minutes of recess left. Reggie and I are battling it out on the basketball court, and we’re tied.

The other kids around us start chanting, “Rivals! Rivals! Rivals!” 

That’s what everyone calls us—“the rivals.” I can’t stand Reggie, and he can’t stand me. 

The weird thing is, Reggie and I used to be friends. But as soon as fifth grade started, it was like aliens had abducted the old Reggie and left me with a new Reggie. He wears gel in his hair now, which makes him look like he’s in a shampoo commercial. He tries to act all perfect. And he got competitive about everything, especially basketball. We used to love playing basketball just for fun. Now he treats every recess like the NBA Finals. It all made me get crazy-competitive too. Pretty soon, we weren’t friends anymore. We were just “the rivals.”

Reggie has the ball. He dribbles toward me. I try to grab the ball from him. Reggie crouches and looks like he’s going to shoot from the left, so I lunge left. But Reggie twists away from me and shoots from the right. I stumble. The ball swishes through the net, just as the bell rings. 

Noooooo!

Reggie flashes an annoying smile, like he thinks he’s the best basketball player who ever existed. I’m so mad! I wish I had a big pillow to scream into. 

Before I go back to class, I take the basketball to the shed where we keep the sports equipment. I’m still seething about Reggie, so I sit on the dusty floor of the shed to calm down. 

That’s when I notice it—a piece of paper tucked under one of the basketballs. It’s a drawing of two kids playing basketball and smiling. They remind me of me and Reggie, back when we actually had fun playing together. 

I find a pen and write, Cool drawing! on the back of the piece of paper. 

Without thinking much about it, I slide the drawing back where I found it. I close the door to the shed and walk back to class. 

By the time I’m sitting at my desk, I’ve forgotten about my disastrous loss at recess. Then our teacher, Mr. Guffey, asks the class: “Who can spell cooperation?”

Reggie raises his hand faster than I can. 

“Go ahead, Reggie,” Mr. Guffey says.

“C-o-p-e-r-a-t-i-o-n,” he says, looking at me like he can’t wait to see my reaction.

“Incorrect,” Mr. Guffey says. My heart stops. “Anyone else?”

I quickly raise my hand.

“Hugo?” Mr. Guffey asks.

“C-o-o-p-e-r-a-t-i-o-n,” I reply. 

“That’s right!” Mr. Guffey says.

Yes!

Reggie glares at me. I can’t help it. I put on that same annoying smile.  

The next morning when I get to school, I run to the shed. I can’t wait to see if there’s a new note. I see something on the ground next to my Mewtwo drawing. It’s a Mewtwo Pokémon card. I can’t believe it! 

I write a note that says, Mewtwo is my favorite Pokémon! Thank you so much!

I leave the note in the shed and sprint to class. I’m so happy.

But the happiness doesn’t last long.

A few hours later, at recess, Reggie and I are on the basketball court again. I have the ball. I charge down the. court with Reggie on my tail. I go for a step-back three-pointer. The ball soars toward the net, but bounces off the backboard. Reggie and I run toward the ball. He gets there first and sprints toward the other side of the court. I try to block his path. He keeps running but stops dribbling.

“That’s traveling! You’re cheating!” I yell. 

“No, I’m not! You’re just mad that I got the ball,” Reggie screams. 

“You’re just mad that I’m beating you! You’re mad I’m getting in the way of perfect Reggie’s perfect life!” I shout. 

Then I reach for his perfectly gelled hair and I mess it up. He swats my hand away. 

“My life is not perfect. You don’t know anything about my life!” he screams. 

Mr. Guffey runs toward us. “You two! Report to the principal’s office,” he says. 

We tell the principal, Ms. Peabody, what happened. 

 “No basketball at recess for a week,” she says to us.

“What?!” Reggie and I say at the exact same time. 

“That’s right,” she declares. 

The no-basketball week feels like the longest week of my life. I miss the excitement of the ball in my hands. Shockingly, I even miss Reggie. It’s like I’m losing him all over again. 

The only thing keeping me going is the notes in the shed. The mystery person and I write notes to each other all week, but I still have no clue who the person is! I wonder if I’ll ever find out. 

By Saturday, I’m desperate to play basketball, so I convince my sister Carmen to play with me. We walk to school. The courts and the shed are open on weekends. 

“I’ll go get the ball,” I say. I open the door of the shed. 

“Ah!” I scream. There’s someone in the shed, scribbling on a piece of paper. 

“Reggie?” I gasp. 

“Hugo?” he gulps. 

We stare at each other, stunned. I look at the piece of paper in his hand—it looks just like the notes from the mystery person. 

“Was it you?” I ask. Reggie nods. He looks as shocked as I am. 

“I didn’t know you could draw!” I exclaim. 

“I didn’t know you still liked Pokémon,” Reggie says.

“Pokémon is awesome,” I say, smiling. 

“Agreed,” Reggie says. 

Just then, Carmen opens the door to the shed. 

“Oh, hi, Reggie,” she says. “Do you want to play basketball with us? You and Hugo could be teammates.” 

Reggie and I look at each other. We’re used to being rivals—not teammates.

“I guess so,” Reggie says. I hide a smile. 

“I’ll go easy on you guys,” Carmen says, passing to Reggie. “Your ball.” 

Reggie dribbles toward the basket. Carmen tries to steal the ball, but Reggie passes to me. I zoom toward the basket. I shoot! The ball is about to swish into the net, but it bounces off the rim. Then Reggie is there, right behind me. He jumps, grabs the ball, and shoots. The ball glides through the hoop.