A Brighter Tomorrow: My Journey with Julie

I watch Julie roll her basketball back and forth in her hands, then tell her to think fast as I tap it out of her grip and dribble it away. She feigns a scowl, but I can tell she’s up for the challenge, and our keep-away game continues as we laugh and dribble our way to a park. Julie says hi to a bushy-haired man named Hank at the far end of the block, then grabs the ball and dribbles after him as he walks away.

Hank palms the ball, holding it out of our reach as he spins it on one finger, and asks Julie if she turned in the petition. Julie nods and says the school principal is taking a look and should have an answer by the end of next week.

Hank crosses his fingers on the hand holding the ball, letting it drop to the sidewalk. Julie dribbles it between her legs. Hank adds that he would put her on the team for sure before walking away. I ask who he is and what the petition he was talking about is.

Julie says that Hank was her mom’s very first customer at Gladrags. He gave her the idea to petition to play on the basketball team.

I’m confused. Can’t anyone just join or try out for the basketball team?

Julie admits she wishes it was that easy. But the school only has one basketball team, and the coach insists girls aren’t allowed to even try out. She asked the principal about starting a girls’ team, but he claimed the school can’t afford another set of uniforms and equipment. When I say that’s not fair, Julie shrugs and explains that’s exactly what her petition argues.

Julie found a newspaper article about a new law called Title Nine, which guarantees girls the same sports opportunities as boys. There’s still a lot of people that don’t agree, like her coach, but plenty agree, too, so she got 150 people to sign her petition. The big question is whether the principal will side with the coach or the petition.

I’m too surprised to speak, stunned by how much trouble Julie has to go through just to play a sport at school. If I wanted to play basketball, baseball, or even football, all I’d have to do is sign up and try out. I tell her I hope she makes it, and she twists her braid nervously, feeling the same.

Before long, we arrive at the basketball court. Two boys are scrimmaging when the boy with shaggy hair, T.J., makes a basket. Julie gives out a whoop and cheers him on.

The other boy, Stinger, narrows his eyes and calls her a tomboy, dribbling circles around us as he mocks Julie for thinking she’s Basketball Jones. Coach Manley will never let her be a Jaguar, he sneers. Julie counters that he’ll have to if Principal Sanchez says so, and tosses her ball over his head straight into the hoop.

Stinger sneers that it’s a lucky shot and insists there’s no way Julie can play against the team of boys. Boys are better at sports, he claims, just like they’re better at everything else.

I say he can’t seriously believe that; Julie could beat him any day. Stinger pastes a cocky smile on his face and says we should prove it. Julie rises to the challenge: the two of them can play against us, a Battle of the Sexes.

Hold up. I didn’t sign up for this. I was just trying to stand up for my new friend.

Julie has a lot to prove, and I don’t want to let her down, but I’ve never played on a team without Chloe and my other friends. I don’t want to be the reason Julie loses in front of this Stinger kid. Sensing my hesitation, Julie asks if I’m in.