Ronde?â
âTiki, I am not going to stand up onstage and read your speech for you! Why would I do that? Do I look insane to you?â
âRonde, youâre my
brother
! We do lots of stuff for each other.â
âNot
this
kind of stuff.â
The two boys were in their darkened bedroom. It was just past lights-out, but neither of them was going to get any sleep until this argument was over.
âIâll do anything you want,â Tiki promised. âIâll be your servant for a week!â
âNuh-uh.â
âA month!â
âStop it, dude,â Ronde said firmly. âYouâre embarrassing yourself. Remember, you got yourself into this mess by writing a better essay than me.â
âWhat are you talking about?â Tiki objected. âI read your essay. It was fine.â
âOh, yeah?â
âIt was really good, in fact.â
âWhat did you like best about it?â Ronde goaded him on.
âOh, that part where you talk about how being smaller means you can surprise the receivers when you jump higher than they do.â
Ronde was pleased. That was his favorite part of his essay too. âWhat else?â
âOh, yeah. When you said how weâre
all
really small, next to the size of the universe.â
âYeah,â said Ronde. âI like that part too. But Iâm still not giving your speech for you.â
â
What?
Why?â Tiki moaned.
âYou know what the best, best, best part of being small is?â Ronde asked. Then he answered his own question. âIt means I canât pretend to be
you
anymore, so thereâs no way I could ever get away with reading your essay for you!â
âAAARGH!â With a roar Tiki leapt out of his bed, grabbed his pillow, and started to pummel Ronde with it.
Laughing, Ronde half-tried to protect himself, but he understood how his twin felt. He was just glad it wasnât him whoâd won the contest. Honorable mention was plenty good enough, he thought, letting Tiki tire himself out.
âMan,â Tiki finally groaned, âwhy did I have to win that contest?â
âHey, your essay was the best in the whole school. I donât think anybodyâs going to think itâs stupid.â
âDid
you
?â Tiki asked, going back over to his own bed and getting under the covers.
âNo! It was right on! People are gonna love it.â
âYeah, sure,â Tiki said, then added, âIâm doomed.
Doomed
.â
âHey, look on the bright side,â Ronde offered. âWhen we grow up, if you donât make the NFL, you could always be a writer, or a public speaker. Maybe even a famous actor or something.â
âI
am
making the NFL,â Tiki shot back. âAnd so are you. Weâve got to keep faith in our dream, yo.â
âTrue,â Ronde agreed. âBut Iâm just saying. Itâs good to have a plan B.â
âNuh-uh,â Tiki said. âNot for me. Itâs plan A all the way. Thatâs the only way to make your dreams come true.â
Ronde was silent. In a way he agreed with Tiki. But he also knew that sometimes peopleâs dreams didnât come true. There were millions of kids all over the USA whose dream was to play in the NFL. But only a couple hundred a year would ever get drafted. For all those others, plan B was going to be really important.
âDonât be afraid,â Ronde said quietly into the silence of the darkened room. âYouâll be fine. You can do it, dude. When youâre up there, just think âPlay proud!ââ
There was a long silence, then, almost in a whisper, âThanks, Ronde.â
In the morning Ronde woke up, bright and chipper. He washed, got dressed, and was almost on his way down to breakfast when he noticed that Tiki was still under the covers, lying there with his eyes closed and a pained look on his face.
âHey, whatâs up?â Ronde