I asked as we joined our team. “Not yet,” one of the guys said. “How about if Jamal is our captain?” I asked. “What?” Kia asked. There was no disguising the shock in her voice or in her expression. “Jamal. I think he should be our captain. He’s got my vote. How about yours?” Kia’s mouth dropped open. I knew she wanted to say something, but it was like her brain had frozen. It was rare to see her at a loss for words. “He’s a good player, and he wouldn’t mind arguing with the ref if he disagrees with the call.” Kia couldn’t disagree with that because I think we all knew Jamal didn’t mind arguing with anybody. “And he knows the rules,” I continued, trying to think of other possible reasons. “He does?” Kia asked. “A whole lot better than you do,” he snapped. Kia scoffed. What he didn’t know—and I did— was that she knew the rules inside and out. “How about a little contest, me against you?” Jamal said. “What sort of contest?” she asked.
