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Laura Sommer nor anyone else would be mistaking him for Tiki anytime soon.
    They shook hands, and Mr. Landzberg put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve actually got an errand for you to run, before I even show you around the place.”
    â€œOkay,” said Ronde, nodding. “What do I do?”
    â€œRun over to this address—it’s only a few blocks away—and see what’s happened to our other stockboy, Ralph Ramirez. He hasn’t shown up for four days in a row, and the home phone’s been disconnected.” Mr. Landzberg frowned. “I’m a little worried about him. Ralphie’s never been irresponsible. I want to know what’s going on. So run over there and let me know what’s up, okay?”
    â€œSure thing, Mr. Landzberg,” Ronde said, taking the paper with the address and setting off at a run.
    â€œHey!” Mr. Landzberg called after him, “I didn’t mean run , run, I meant, just don’t go slow. The lastthing I need is a stockboy with a twisted ankle.”
    Ronde grinned, reduced his gait to a trot, and soon found himself at the appointed place. It was an older building, and although there were doorbells in the lobby, the front door wasn’t locked. So when there was no answer, Ronde let himself through and walked up the stairs to apartment 2B, where he knocked on the door.
    At first, no one answered. “Hello?” Ronde called out loudly. “I’m here from Mr. Landzberg!”
    Suddenly, the door swung open, and a tall, skinny kid of about sixteen stared back at him. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought it might be the landlord.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œWe haven’t paid the rent, and we’re afraid if we answer the door, it will be trouble.”
    â€œOh. So, you’re . . .” He checked the paper Mr. Landzberg had given him. “Ralph?”
    â€œThat’s me,” the kid said without smiling.
    â€œRonde. Ronde Barber,” he said, offering his hand. Ralph just stared at it.
    â€œUm, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Ronde wondered.
    Ralph blinked, then shook his head. “What?”
    â€œIf you need rent, how come you aren’t coming to work?”
    The boy sighed, and gestured over his shoulder. “Myma is sick in bed,” he said sadly. “I’ve gotta take care of her. We’ve got nobody else . . . except my aunt, and she can come only once a week.”
    â€œIs your mom . . . is she gonna be all right?” Ronde asked in a near whisper.
    The boy swallowed hard. “She says so . . . but I don’t know. She doesn’t tell me everything.”
    â€œI’m . . . I’m sorry,” Ronde said. “I . . . I hope she feels better. I’ll tell Mr. Landzberg what you said.”
    â€œThanks,” said Ralph, and closed the door.
    As he walked, not ran, back to the store, Ronde thought how lucky he and Tiki were. Sure, their mom had to work long hours—but at least she was healthy . Whatever problems he and Tiki had, other people had harder things to deal with, by far.
    An hour ago, Ronde had been in agony over losing his one-on-one battle with Tiki and having to go to work, while Tiki got to be on the b-ball team. Now, Ronde was thrilled to be able to work and help his family. It was the least he could do to show his gratitude for all the blessings life had given him.

4
GAME ON!
    At that same moment, Tiki was busy at practice, where things were not going so well. Even before Ronde had come to the gym to warn him that Laura Sommer was after him to honor his commitment, Tiki had been having a hard time.
    While everything here was new to him, it was already midseason for the rest of the team. And Coach Jackson was nothing like Sam Wheeler, who ran the football team as if he were the general of an elite strike force.
    Jackson was much more laid-back. He let the players go through