Kwame Alexander - The Crossover

Table of Contents

Title Page

Table of Contents

Copyright

Warm-Up

Chapter

Josh Bell

How I Got My Nickname

At first

Filthy McNasty

Jordan Bell

On the way to the game

Five Reasons I Have Locks

Mom tells Dad

Conversation

Basketball Rule #1

First Quarter

JB and I

At the End of Warm-Ups, My Brother Tries to Dunk

The Sportscaster

Josh’s Play-by-Play

cross·o·ver

The Show

The Bet, Part One

Ode to My Hair

The Bet, Part Two

The game is tied

In the locker room

Cut

ca·lam·i·ty

Mom doesn’t like us eating out

Missing

The inside of Mom and Dad’s bedroom closet

pa·tel·la ten·di·ni·tis

Sundays After Church

Basketball Rule #2

Girls

While Vondie and JB

pul·chri·tu·di·nous

Practice

Walking Home

Man to Man

After dinner

After we win

Dad Takes Us to Krispy Kreme and Tells Us His Favorite Story (Again)

Basketball Rule #3

Josh’s Play-by-Play

The new girl

I Missed Three Free Throws Tonight

Basketball Rule #4

Having a mother

Mom shouts

hy·per·ten·sion

To fall asleep

Why We Only Ate Salad for Thanksgiving

How Do You Spell Trouble?

Bad News

Gym class

Second Quarter

Conversation

Conversation

Basketball Rule #5

Showoff

Out of Control

Mom calls me into the kitchen

35–18

Too Good

I’m on Free Throw Number Twenty-Seven

He probably

i·ron·ic

This Is Alexis—May I Please Speak to Jordan?

Phone Conversation (I Sub for JB)

JB and I

Boy walks into a room

At practice

Second-Person

Third Wheel

tip·ping point

The main reason I can’t sleep

Surprised

Conversation

Game Time: 6:00 p.m.

This is my second year

Basketball Rule #6

Josh’s Play-by-Play

Before

Third Quarter

After

Suspension

chur·lish

This week, I

Basketball Rule #7

The Nosebleed Section

Fast Break

Storm

The next morning

pro·fuse·ly

Article #1 in the Daily News (December 14)

Mostly everyone

Final Jeopardy

Dear Jordan

I don’t know

No Pizza and Fries

Even Vondie

Uh-oh

I run into Dad’s room

Behind Closed Doors

The girl who stole my brother

Things I Learn at Dinner

Dishes

Coach’s Talk Before the Game

Josh’s Play-by-Play

Text Messages from Mom, Part One

The Second Half

Tomorrow Is the Last Day of School Before Christmas Vacation

Coach comes over

es·tranged

School’s Out

The Phone Rings

Basketball Rule #8

When we get to the court

At Noon, in the Gym, with Dad

Fourth Quarter

The doctor pats Jordan and me on the back and says

my·o·car·di·al in·farc·tion

Okay, Dad

Mom, since you asked, I’ll tell you why I’m so angry

Text Messages from Vondie

On Christmas Eve

Santa Claus Stops By

Questions

Tanka for Language Arts Class

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to

Basketball Rule #9

As we’re about to leave for the final game

During warm-ups

Text Messages from Mom, Part Two

For Dad

The Last Shot

Overtime

Article #2 in the Daily News (January 14)

Where Do We Go from Here?

star·less

Basketball Rule #10

There are so many friends

Free Throws

About the Author

For Big Al and Barbara,

also known as Mom and Dad

Copyright © 2014 by Kwame Alexander

All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.

www.hmhco.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file.

ISBN 978-0-544-10771-7

eISBN 978-0-544-28959-8

v1.0314

Dribbling

At the top of the key, I’m

MOVING & GROOVING,

POPping and ROCKING —

Why you BUMPING?

Why you LOCKING?

Man, take this THUMPING.

Be careful though,

’cause now I’m CRUNKing

Criss CROSSING

FLOSSING

flipping

and my dipping will leave you

S

L

I

P

P

I

N

G on the floor, while I

SWOOP in

to the finish with a fierce finger roll . . .

Straight in the hole:

Swoooooooooooosh.

Josh Bell

is my name.

But Filthy McNasty is my claim to fame.

Folks call me that

’cause my game’s acclaimed,

so downright dirty, it’ll put you to shame.

My hair is long, my height’s tall.

See, I’m the next Kevin Durant,

LeBron, and Chris Paul.

Remember the greats,

my dad likes to gloat:

I balled with Magic and the Goat.

But tricks are for kids, I reply.

Don’t need your pets

my game’s so

fly.

Mom says,

Your dad’s old school,

like an ol’ Chevette.

You’re fresh and new,

like a red Corvette.

Your game so sweet, it’s a crêpes suzette.

Each time you play

it’s ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL net.

If anyone else called me

fresh and sweet,

I’d burn mad as a flame.

But I know she’s only talking about my game.

See, when I play ball,

I’m on fire.

When I shoot,

I inspire.

The hoop’s for sale,

and I’m the buyer.

How I Got My Nickname

I’m not that big on jazz music, but Dad is.

One day we were listening to a CD

of a musician named Horace Silver, and Dad says,

Josh, this cat is the real deal.

Listen to that piano, fast and free,

Just like you and JB on the court.

It’s okay, I guess, Dad.

Okay? DID YOU SAY OKAY?

Boy, you better recognize

greatness when you hear it.

Horace Silver is one of the hippest.

If you shoot half as good as he jams—

Dad, no one says “hippest” anymore.

Well, they ought to, ’cause this cat

is so hip, when he sits down he’s still standing, he says.

Real funny, Dad.

You know what, Josh?

What, Dad?

I’m dedicating this next song to you.

What’s the next song?

Only the best song,

the funkiest song

on Silver’s Paris Blues album:

“FILTHY

McNASTY.”

At first

I didn’t like

the name

because so many kids

made fun of me

on the school bus,

at lunch, in the bathroom.

Even Mom had jokes.

It fits you perfectly, Josh, she said:

You never clean your closet, and

that bed of yours is always filled

with cookie crumbs and candy wrappers.

It’s just plain nasty, son.

But, as I got older

and started getting game,

the name took on a new meaning.

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