Free Underdog by Eric Walters Page B

He’s against me because I’m black.”
    â€œThat’s crazy!”
    â€œAre you calling me crazy?” Ashton demanded.
    â€œNo, of course not. It’s just that I know he isn’t.”
    â€œWhy else would he be so hard on me?” Ashton asked.
    â€œHe’s hard on everybody. Last year at the start of the season he did some things to me that—”
    â€œDid he ever leave you on the court all by yourself?” Ashton asked, cutting me off.
    â€œNo, but he did other things.”
    â€œHe did that to me because he’s a racist.”
    â€œBut it’s not like you’re the only black kid on the team. More than half the guys are black, and none of them think he’s racist.”
    â€œHave you ever asked them?” Ashton asked.
    â€œNo. Have you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œMaybe you should talk to them. Ask them what they think, because I already know the answer. The only color that matters to Coach is the color of your uniform. If you’re wearing orange you’re family. Couldn’t you just stay with the team a little bit longer? Give it a chance. We’re getting our new uniforms next week.” I thought if I could get him to hang around a bit longer he might decide not to quit the team. “You’ve almost raised all the money. At least if you walked away then you’d have the uniform.”
    â€œIf I walked away, do you think I’d even want one of the uniforms? They are probably the ugliest uniforms in the world!”
    â€œThey’re not that bad.”
    â€œBright orange?” he asked. “You look like either a traffic pylon or a basketball.”
    I didn’t care if they were bright orange. I was proud of my uniform. It meant something to me. Something important.
    â€œCould you at least talk to Coach about what you’re thinking and that you want to quit the team?”
    â€œI don’t want to talk to him and that’s why I didn’t answer the phone when he called tonight.”
    â€œHe called you?”
    â€œTwice.”
    â€œAnd?” I asked.
    â€œAnd he left two messages on the answering machine. Like I said, I didn’t want to talk to him.”
    â€œAnd what did he say…you know…in the messages?” I asked.
    â€œSomething about wanting to talk. I didn’t really listen. I just erased them from the machine.”
    â€œSo you’re not going to call him?”
    â€œI’m not calling anybody, I’m not talking to anybody. I’m surprised I even picked up the phone to talk to you.”
    â€œWhy wouldn’t you talk to me?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe the reason you’re defending him is because he’s not the only one who’s a racist.”
    â€œYou think I’m a racist?” I exclaimed, unable to believe what he’d just said.
    â€œYou could be.”
    â€œCome on, Ashton, that’s not fair. It’s not like I ever did anything or said anything tha…hello…hello…” There was a dial tone. He’d hung up on me! What should I do now? Should I call him back? What was the point in that? He probably wouldn’t even pick up the phone. I put the phone back in the cradle and then picked it up again. There was somebody I should call.

10
    â€œHi, L.B., is your Dad home?” I asked.
    â€œYep, he’s right here. He said he thought he’d hear from you tonight.”
    â€œHe did?”
    â€œYeah, hold on and I’ll get him.”
    There was silence as he put down the phone. How did Coach know I was going to call him tonight?
    â€œHello, Nick.”
    â€œHi, Coach.”
    â€œSo are you calling to tell me that I’m being too hard on Ashton and that I have to back off?”
    â€œWell…”
    â€œBecause that’s what my son told me on the ride home after practice. Do you agree?”
    I didn’t answer.
    â€œIt’s okay. I’m asking and I want an