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Authors: Walter Dean Myers

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THE PALETTE

A TIME TO LOVE …

By Ashley Schmidt

In thinking over the events of the last few weeks I was so very proud to see that Zander Scott and his merry band of Cruisers were able to bring about a settled peace between the proposed belligerents in the Civil War. I thought to myself how wonderful it would have been if Zander had been around in the 1850s. How many thousands of lives would have been saved, and how much heartache would have been prevented?

But then in the middle of my personal celebration as a lover of peace I began to think that perhaps for hundreds of thousands of enslaved Africans the war served a useful purpose. Through the Emancipation Proclamation and the subsequent Union victory, the grounds for the ending of slavery were established. As much as I hate
war I believe it is preferable to being enslaved.

Curled up in my bed while outlining an editorial praising the Cruisers, I came to the conclusion that Zander might have actually been wrong if they had really stopped the Civil War. The next question that came to mind was, how many other events that we now accept as either good or bad could be seen differently from another point of view? Perhaps there is a time to make love and a time to make war after all.

Was the western expansion in the nineteenth century good for all Americans? Was the fall of the Roman Empire a universal disaster? How about the defeat of the Spanish Armada? Was the fall of the tsar of Russia really so wonderful? How about the war on drugs? Will the end of death, if we can ever achieve it, be the completely positive idea it seems to be?
The Palette
invites its readers to submit examples of historical events that might be
viewed differently from a slightly altered perspective. The three most original (with suitable citations!) will be published in
The Palette.

Meanwhile, I still have to offer my congrats to Zander and the Cruisers.

COMING UP NEXT … THE SECOND BOOK IN THE CRUISERS SERIES
KING’S GAMBIT

 

It’s one thing to rock the power of your pen; it’s another to crack a code. In the second book of the Cruisers series, the term “Gifted and Talented” takes on a whole new meaning for Zander and his friends.

Here’s the beginning of how they roll in
King’s Gambit.

PICTURE PERFECT

Y
o, Kambui, I was thinking about Sidney,” I said. “I just can’t imagine him with a drug problem.”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out Sidney Aronofsky’s problem,” I said.

“No, I mean right now. You sitting at the table? You eating a sandwich? What are you doing?”

“I’m lying on the floor right next to my dumbbells thinking maybe I’ll get to some exercises,” I said. “What you doing?”

“I’m texting Zhade Hopkins,” Kambui said. “I’m thinking about asking her to go out with me.”

“Zhade is too fine for you,” I said.

“No, I think she digs me,” Kambui said. “I think you and I should go out with her and her sister. On a double date.”

“Where do you want to take them?”

“Never mind, she just texted me back and called me a frog,” Kambui said. “Why did she have to go there?”

“Maybe she’s hoping to kiss you and turn you into a handsome prince,” I said.

“I didn’t like her anyway.”

Lie.

“So, getting back to Sidney,” I went on. “I think he knows drugs are bad but he hasn’t really seen how bad so he’s, like, into some kind of movie version.”

“What movie?”

“I don’t know, man,
some
movie,” I said. “It’s like you see guys get shot in pictures and then the next day you see them on television talking about how good the film was. It makes the killing part not too bad.”

“So you think we should get him some heavy drugs and let him OD or something?” Kambui asked.

“This afternoon I told him that we wanted to publish a picture of a crackhead in
The Cruiser,
” I said. “I asked him if he could get us one.”

“Look, Zander, I know you and Sidney are friends,” Kambui said. “But as far as I’m concerned he’s just weirding out. Maybe all that chess he plays has got his head twisted. You know—mad genius stuff.”

“The guy’s a chess wizard,” I said. “Plus he’s a good guy and he goes to our school. I was shocked when he got arrested for buying marijuana. If he does come up with a picture I’m going to put it in
The Cruiser.

“I don’t see how it’s going to help,” Kambui said. “But it doesn’t cost anything, so why not?”

“I have to do
something
,” I said.

“I got to get to my homework,” Kambui said. “I have fifteen thousand more pages to read.”

“You think if I texted Zhade and asked her about us double-dating with her and her sister she might say yes?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t even go out with her now,” Kambui said. “Where did she get that frog bit?”

“That was kind of cold,” I said.

Kambui said he had to finish his homework and would see me in school. When I had hung up it was easy to see that Kambui was more into Zhade then he was into Sidney’s problems. But Kambui was my main man and I knew he would be thinking about it. That’s the way he is. You say something to him and you think he’s forgotten about it and then two or three weeks later—
bam!
—he’s right back on the case.

I was still lying on the floor when Mom came to the door and pointed to the cell phone she was holding. Somebody was calling for me and she wanted to know if I wanted to answer it. She put the phone behind her back and said it was a lady.

For a wild moment I thought it was going to be Zhade. Zhade is so hot she can melt a Hershey bar from across the room by just looking at it. It wasn’t Zhade, it was Bobbi.

“Hey, Zander, I’ve got the game with Powell all figured out.” She was chirping again. She does that when she’s happy. “I have four numbers. If we manage to get three of them we’ll win.”

“The first number is one,” I said. “If we get one more point than the other team we’ll win.”

“The first number is nine,” Bobbi continued, ignoring me. “One player has to get nine rebounds. The second number—”

“Why nine?” I asked.

“The second number is seventy. That has to be our free throw percentage.”

“Where are you getting these numbers?”

“Each number represents a phase of the game that we have to dominate,” she said.

“You’re not playing, Bobbi,” I said. “We’re playing.”

“I’m giving you the tools to win the game,” Bobbi said. “So it’s nine rebounds by one player, seventy percent of our free throws, the third is team assists—we need nine—and the last number is thirty-five. We need to hit thirty-five percent of our three-point tries. That’s it. What do you think?”

“Bobbi, you don’t know diddly-squat about basketball,” I said.

“Yeah, I do,” Bobbi said. “Because it’s really about numbers and percentages.”

“So what do you think about Sidney’s problem?”

“What do you think about my math solution?”

“We’ll check it out when we play Powell Thursday,” I said. “And if we get those numbers and lose we’ll burn you at the stake.”

“And if you win you can put a photo of me in the trophy case,” Bobbi said.

“Can we get back to Sidney and chess?” I asked. “He’s the best chess player on our team,” Bobbi said. “I’m second board, John Brendel is third, and Todd Balf is fourth.”

“I could probably beat all of you with my eyes closed,” I said.

“In your dreams, baby,” Bobbi said. “In your dreams!”

Okay, the basketball team, Bobbi, LaShonda, Kambui, and Ashley Schmidt from the school newspaper,
The Palette,
went to 128th Street and Amsterdam Avenue to play against Adam Clayton Powell. On the way, Bobbi kept passing around her numbers.

“Zander, you have to get the nine rebounds,” she said. “You’re the tallest.”

“The secret to basketball,” Coach Law said, “is having the will to win. Without that will you’re going to lose.”

“Numbers don’t lie,” Bobbi said. “Numbers are a way of God slipping the truth to us on the QT.”

“Spoken like a true young lady,” Coach Law said.

“Spoken like a sexist basketball coach,” LaShonda said.

Coach Law grinned.

Adam Clayton Powell Academy’s basketball team was okay but I didn’t like them because the whole school thought they were hot stuff. They had had Mae Jamison come up to the school once, and President Clinton and some author from New Jersey, so they thought they were special.

“Can you get nine boards?” Cody asked me.

“Yeah.”

“If you keep crashing the boards you’ll get fouled,” Cody said. “I’ll drive more down the lane so I should pick up a couple of fouls, and the whole team will work on assists.”

Coach Law kept talking about the will to win and Cody kept looking at Bobbi’s numbers. I was wondering if Cody was going soft on Bobbi. Ashley had a copy of Bobbi’s numbers, too, and she wanted to write them up in
The Palette.

The game started and I gave up everything to work on the boards. The dude I was up against, a West Indian brother I knew, was strong and did a lot of pushing but he couldn’t really sky. I was snatching bounds pretty easy.

The whole thing was that all of us went into the game with Bobbi’s numbers in our heads. It was a little freaky at first, but I didn’t want to fall down on my count.

In the end we beat them. No, we crushed them. Okay, we left them bleeding and whimpering on the court! Cody scored thirty points and was getting so mean I had to help Powell defend him. I only scored sixteen points because I’m a merciful kind of guy.

I felt great about the game and especially about beating Powell. But the way that Ashley wrote it up in
The Palette
you would have thought that Bobbi beat Powell all by herself.

I saw Kambui in the media center and he asked me if Bobbi was going to replace me on the team.

“I just hope the coach doesn’t fall in love with those numbers,” I said.

“Did Sidney show up with a picture of a crackhead?”

“No, he gave me a picture of a chess board with numbers on it,” I said. “Very strange.”

 

SCARED STRAIGHT

M
y cousin says that sometimes people keep hanging on to a symbol that comforts them,” LaShonda said. “So maybe Sidney showed up with that picture of a chess board because he’s only comfortable around chess.”

“No,” Bobbi answered. “It’s not just a picture, it’s a coded message.”

Can you crack it?

About the Author

WALTER DEAN MYERS
is the critically acclaimed
New York Times
bestselling author of more than eighty books for children and young adults. His extensive body of work includes
Sunrise Over Fallujah,
which was named one of the best books of 2008 by
Publishers Weekly; Amiri and Odette: A Love Story; Fallen Angels; Harlem Summer;
and
Somewhere in the Darkness.
Mr. Myers’s many awards include two Newbery Honors, five Coretta Scott King Author Book Awards, the Michael L. Printz Award, and the 2010 Coretta Scott King–Virginia Hamilton Award for Lifetime Achievement. Mr. Myers lives in Jersey City, NJ.

Copyright

Copyright © 2010 by Walter Dean Myers
Cover Art Copyright © 2010 By Leo Espinosa
Cover Design By Elizabeth B. Parisi

All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc.,
Publishers since 1920.
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First edition, August 2010

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eISBN 978-0-545-34755-6

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