Sink it Rusty Page 2

  “He's going to get games for us,” went on Perry excitedly, as he dashed after the bouncing ball. “Boy, will that be fun!”

  I wonder, thought Rusty. I wonder if I will get a uniform.

  Rusty thought a lot about that afterwards.

  Monday, in gym class, Rusty worked out with the other boys. For a while Mr. Jackson, the gym teacher, let the boys do as they wished. Some got on the trampoline, some on the “horse.” Others got on the bars and chinned themselves. After they limbered their bodies, Mr. Jackson explained what their program was for this period.

  He had them spread out in orderly fashion on the floor. Then he led them through a series of exercises — situps, knee bends, and jumping jacks.

  Rusty tried to do them as well as he was able, but he could not sit up and touch his toes as so many other boys could. He also had trouble bending his knees.

  Mr. Jackson looked at him often and smiled encouragingly.

  “Okay! Rest a bit!” said Mr. Jackson finally.

  Rusty perspired freely. He breathed hard. He was glad to rest. Mr. Jackson approached him. He was short, with blond, wavy hair and very blue eyes.

  “Feel okay, Rusty?” he asked.

  “Just a little tired,” said Rusty.

  “I'm going to have the boys sprint,” said Mr. Jackson. “You don't have to join them if you don't want to.”

  “I think I will, though, Mr. Jackson,” said Rusty. “If it's all right with you.”

  “Of course,” said the gym teacher, and patted Rusty gingerly on the shoulder.

  He's sorry for me. I don't want him to be sorry for me! I don't want anybody to be sorry for me!

  He sprinted with the boys, and came in far behind. Some looked at him, smiling. Most of them paid him no attention. Rusty's coming in last wasn't news to them.

  On Wednesday evening, Joby stopped for Rusty. Both walked down the hill to the barn, wearing warm winter jackets and hats. The evening air was biting cold. Below them, Lake Cato was like blue glass.

  Only three boys were at the barn when Joby and Rusty arrived. Within fifteen minutes all the boys who had been coming regularly to play basketball were present. They were playing with Corny Moon's basketball — the same one they always played with.

  Time and time again Rusty tried to get the ball and shoot. Always someone would break in front of him, take the ball, and dribble it away.

  Finally, Joby got it and tossed it to him. Later, Ted Stone passed it to him. Both times he dribbled the ball to one of the corners and shot. After a while he got so discouraged that he didn't try to get the ball any more.

  Presently, Joby Main yelled out: “Perry! Heard any more about Alec's forming a team? Who's going to buy the uniforms?”

  At once everyone stopped running. Corny had the ball. He tucked it under his arm. Everybody looked at Perry Webb.

  “He's going to buy the uniforms himself,” replied Perry. “He's going to get games with teams from other towns. Soon, I guess. Of course, he's going to pick only the best players. Whoever doesn't show for practice won't play.”

  His eyes met Rusty's. “Players got to be real good, too,” Perry went on. “I don't think you'd make the team, Rusty. I know it's tough not to play. But I'm sure Alec won't — well, I think it's just impossible for you to be on the team, Rusty.”

  6

  JOBY, Corny, and Rusty walked up the road between the two rows of houses that Saturday morning. The cold December air reddened their cheeks. A beagle came out and greeted them silently. They saw no one else. It was either too cold or too early in the morning for people to be out.

  They soon left the houses behind them. Joby turned off the road and headed into the woods. Corny and Rusty trailed after him. They were going to check Joby's traps. He had six of them set in different parts of the woods.

  “How far is the first one?” Rusty asked.

  “Not far,” said Joby. “About a quarter of a mile.”

  “A quarter of a mile?” Rusty echoed. “Jeepers!”

  Joby laughed. “Sounds far, but it isn't.”

  They weaved around trees and stumps. The trees were thick here. They were mostly elms and evergreens. Rusty saw a nest dangling beneath the branch of one of the elms. It pleased him to know that it was an oriole's nest.

  “Hey! Look at that!” whispered Corny.

  A pair of squirrels were standing, face down, on the side of an elm. Their bushy tails were curled up behind them. As the boys approached them, the little furred animals whisked around, darted up the tree, and disappeared.

  The boys chuckled happily. Rusty began to enjoy this trip into the woods. He had gone on short hikes with his father. But he had never gone deep into the woods.

  It was quiet now, too, except for the chirping of birds and the chittering noises of squirrels. There was a fresh smell of leaves, of tree bark. He spotted a tiny rabbit. What a nice pet that little fellow would make!

  Suddenly Rusty discovered he was alone. He was so slow he had fallen behind. He shouldn't have been looking for animals nor listening for their sounds.

  Panic gripped him a moment.

  “Joby! Corny!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

  From a short distance ahead of him, Rusty heard them reply. “Right here, Rusty!”

  He hurried and caught up with them. He panted. Even though the air was bitter cold, his face was hot as fire.

  “Here's the first trap,” said Joby at last.

  It was near the entrance of a wide hole in the ground. Leaves were spread over it. It wasn't sprung.

  “That's a weasel hole,” said Joby. “Dad says weasels are hard to catch. I believe it!”

  He led Corny and Rusty to three other traps. One was snapped. Joby looked at it excitedly, but whatever had snapped it wasn't around now.

  “That's a raccoon hole,” explained Joby. “Dad told me that snapping a trap is a favorite trick of a coon's. I'll keep after him, though, until I catch him.”

  Rusty laughed. “Maybe he'll forget to play tricks some day.”

  “I hope!” said Joby.

  He opened the jaws of the trap again, set it, and placed it near the mouth of the hole. Then he carefully covered it with leaves.

  “I'll be back tomorrow, Mr. Coon!” he said.

  They walked on. Soon Rusty heard the rippling waters of a creek. A few moments later they arrived at its bank. The water was shallow. Rusty saw no place where they could walk across, except a log stretched over the creek like a bridge.

  Rusty stared as Joby and Corny walked on it to the other side. He got on it, took three steps, then stopped.

  “Come on, Rusty!” yelled Joby. “You can make it!”

  He took another step, then looked along the log. It wasn't very big around. Some of its bark had been stripped off. There was about six feet of space between it and the water underneath. If he slipped —

  Rusty shuddered and backed off. Joby and Corny laughed.

  I'll try it on my knees, he thought.

  He got down on his knees, crawled about five feet, and paused. He stared at the water, got a little dizzy, and closed his eyes tightly. He opened them again. Without looking over the side of the log, he backed off.

  Joby and Corny laughed again. “There's a place a little farther down you can walk across, Rusty,” yelled Joby.

  Rusty cracked a weak grin. “I'll take it!” he said.

  He found the place. The creek was wider here. The water flowed in a lot of tiny rivers. There were spots of green, slippery moss, but Rusty walked across without trouble.

  Joby led them to another trap.

  “Hey! Look at this!” he cried excitedly.

  There sat a rabbit. At the sound of Joby's voice it hopped around a little. It didn't get anywhere. One of its hind feet was caught in the trap.

  The three boys stared at it in silence. Then they looked at each other.

  Neither one of them moved for a long, long minute.

  7

  “FIND me a club,” said Joby.r />
  Corny searched for one. He found a broken branch about two feet long. He handed it to Joby.

  Joby took it. He looked at the club, and then at the rabbit. The rabbit was sitting still, its eyes big and wide.

  Joby shook his head, and handed the club to Corny. “Here, you do it,” he said.

  Corny took the club. He lifted it. The rabbit had not moved a bit.

  Corny lowered the club. “Here. You do it, Rusty,” he said.

  Rusty took the club. He looked at the rabbit. The tip of its short tail looked like a ball of cotton.

  “Not me. I can never do it,” said Rusty. He flung the club away.

  Joby crouched beside the animal, opened the trap, and the rabbit hopped away on its three good legs.

  “His leg will heal,” said Joby. There was kind of a joy in his voice, as if it made him happy to let the rabbit loose.

  Rusty and Corny both smiled.

  “Come on!” said Joby. “There's one more trap left!”

  Joby led them to the shore of the creek. The trap was set near the water, with half of an apple on it for bait. The bait had not lured any animal, though. The trap was still unsprung.

  “Well, that's it,” said Joby. “Zero average. But I still think it's fun to trap!”

  “Me, too!” said Rusty.

  “You did catch a rabbit,” Corny reminded him.

  “Yeah,” smiled Joby. “But rabbits are different. You can't kill them. They're like pets. You wouldn't kill your pet dog, would you?”

  “'Course not,” said Corny.

  They retraced their steps through the woods, and went back home. Rusty knew he'd remember that trip for a long, long time.

  He'd remember that log, too.

  Later, from the window of his living room, Rusty saw Perry Webb, Corny, Ted Stone, and several other boys walking down the road. Corny was carrying his basketball. As the boys passed in front of Rusty's house, Corny looked at the house. He said something to Perry. Perry shook his head, no.

  Corny wanted to ask me to go with them. But Perry doesn't want me to. A lump rose in Rusty's throat.

  A little while later Rusty got his own basketball and went outside. Dad had made a backboard above the garage door. Rusty practiced shooting long shots. He tried hard not to think of Perry and the others.

  He practiced until his legs got tired. Then he went inside to rest. Sometime later he saw the boys returning. He could hear them chattering excitedly among themselves. Each was carrying a small bundle of blue and red under his arm.

  Rusty knew what those bundles were. They were suits — basketball suits. Alec Daws had passed them out.

  Rusty turned, stretched out full length on the easy chair, and gazed at his legs. They looked the same as anybody else's. But they were weak, slow.

  Why did it have to be me?

  “What's the matter, son?”

  Rusty looked up. Dad was in the doorway, a tall man with dark hair and wide shoulders. His brown eyes were understanding.

  “Nothing,” said Rusty.

  “Nothing?” Dad chuckled. “I saw those boys walking up the street. They were carrying basketball suits, weren't they?”

  Rusty shrugged. “I guess so,” he said.

  “I think they were,” said Dad. “I heard the fathers talking about it in the store. Alec Daws is going to buy suits and form a basketball team. I think it's a wonderful idea. Good for the boys. Why didn't you go down and get your suit?”

  Rusty looked at his father squarely. “Me? I can't make the team, Dad!”

  “Oh?” Dad's brows lifted. “Who said you can't?”

  Rusty put his elbow on the arm of the chair, sank his chin into the palm of his hand hopelessly. “I just know I can't,” he said.

  “You might be fooling yourself,” said Dad. “Alec is a pretty square shooter. He's not trying to form a team of champions. He just wants a team. He wants to make it as good as he can, but he's not going to keep kids off who want to play. I've met Alec. He's a nice, decent guy.”

  “I know,” said Rusty. “I met him, too.”

  He put on his jacket, got his basketball, and went outside again. Even when his legs got tired, he didn't quit. He grew awfully hungry, too. But he still played.

  Presently small flakes of snow fell. The flakes grew larger and began to stick to the ground. They fell on his cheeks, melting instantly. Still Rusty played, working on corner shots. He was sinking them better as the minutes dragged on.

  Patches of white formed on the ground. Rusty moved about much more slowly now. He didn't run after the ball when he shot. He walked. He wanted to stay out as long as he could.

  “Rusty, you've been out there for hours!” Mom's voice suddenly broke the silence around him. “Come into the house!”

  “Okay, Mom!” he said.

  He picked up his basketball, went in. He took off his coat and hat, dropped into a living room chair, and fell sound asleep.

  8

  DURING lunch hour on Monday, Perry Webb ran up behind Rusty in the hall.

  “Hi, Rusty. Heard you're afraid of logs.”

  Rusty whirled. “Logs? What logs?”

  Perry laughed. “You know what I'm talking about. You went along with Joby and Corny last Saturday, didn't you? You came to a log. They walked across it, but you didn't!”

  Rusty blushed. “Oh, that,” he said.

  Two other boys met him in the hall. They laughed and mentioned the log, too.

  A knot formed in Rusty's stomach. He walked faster, hoping to get away from the boys. They walked faster, too.

  Rusty reached the end of the hall, turned right and started down the stairs. Suddenly, he stopped. Coming up were Joby and Corny.

  His eyes blurred as they bored into theirs.

  “You — you told them!” he said angrily.

  Joby's eyes widened. “Told them what?”

  “You know what!” Rusty's voice rose sharply.

  “Oh, forget it,” said Perry. “We were only kidding, Rusty. We didn't mean to hurt you.”

  Rusty's gaze swung to Corny. Corny's face paled. “It was me, Rusty. I told them. But I didn't know they would —”

  Rusty didn't wait for Corny to finish. He fled down the stairs as fast as he could. He stumbled, gripped the banister tightly, caught himself, and went on. He entered the gym and sat down, his heart pounding fiercely. He watched a scrub basketball game until the bell rang.

  That afternoon, Rusty climbed off the bus in front of the Daws Grocery Store. He saw Alec carrying a garbage can around the side of the building. Perry, Corny, and the others stopped and spoke to the tall coach of their new team. Rusty heard them speak about their new uniforms, but he hurried past as if he didn't see Alec. Alec wasn't interested in him, anyway.

  “Rusty! Wait a minute!”

  Rusty turned.

  Alec winked at him. “Be at the barn about six,” he said. “Can I count on you?”

  Rusty looked at Perry, Corny, Joby, and the others who were regular players at the barn. They looked back at him as if they didn't quite believe that Alec would invite him, Rusty.

  “Okay,” he said. He turned, and continued home by himself.

  That night, at six o'clock, Alec Daws gave Rusty his uniform. It had a number 6 on the jersey.

  “I had it for you last Saturday,” Alec said. “I was sure you'd like to have one.”

  The lump in Rusty's throat was as big as a baseball. “I — I sure did!” he whispered.

  “Be here for practice with the rest of the boys every night this week,” went on Alec. “I arranged a game this Saturday with the Benton Braves, a non-league team. Later on, there will be more. All right. Put that suit aside for now. I want you to get on the B team.”

  Rusty saw that members of the A team were Joby Main and Mark Andrews at the forward positions, Corny Moon and Bud Farris at the guard positions, and Perry Webb at center.

  For five minutes the A team showed strong power over the B team. Perry racked up three baskets himself, and
Bud made one. The B team didn't get any.

  Alec exchanged some of the players to make the teams better balanced. This appealed to the boys. Rusty didn't enter into the scrambles for the ball. He'd never have a chance, he thought. He played the corner, as Alec had told him to do.

  But that evening he didn't sink a shot.

  Just before the boys left for home, Alec had them choose a name for their new team.

  They decided on “The Lakers.”

  When game time arrived Saturday afternoon, Rusty was certain that Alec would not let him play. All he had sunk during that week of basketball practice were two baskets for a total of four points.

  Several fathers drove their cars to the game at Benton, four miles away from Cannerville. The Lakers looked sharp and eager in their blue and red uniforms. The Benton Braves were flashy in their green ones.

  The game started. The Braves took the tap from center. They dribbled quickly and surely. Their passes were swift and accurate. Within thirty seconds they sank the first basket. Before the minute was up, they sank another.

  Rusty watched the game from the bench. The Braves looked as courageous as their name suggested. By the end of the first quarter they were leading, 17 to 9.

  Rusty noticed how much more action there was in this game than the ones they had played in the barn. It frightened him. How could he, slow as he was, play with such fast players? He wouldn't have a chance!

  And then he heard his name. He turned, his heart beating rapidly.

  “Rusty! Report to the ref! Tell him you're going in in place of Mark!”

  9

  RUSTY played forward with Joby. Corny Moon and Bud Farris played guard. Jim Bush was at center. He was taking Perry's place.

  It was the Lakers' out near their own basket. Corny passed the ball from out of bounds to Bud. Bud dribbled a couple of steps and shot a quick pass to Joby, who was running toward the basket. Joby caught the ball and leaped. A Braves man jumped, slapped the ball, and it squirted from Joby's hands.

  Rusty caught it!

  What shall I do with it? he thought, standing as if paralyzed. The ball had bounced to him unexpectedly.