Hot Shot Page 5

  That’s just what happened too. Now that he was over his anger, he was able to joke about his first lousy practice with the Warriors. When he got to the part about stealing the ball from Paul, Grady howled with laughter.

  “Man, I would have loved to see the expression on that bozo’s face when you did that! Priceless!”

  Julian grinned. “I wish I’d checked it out myself. But I was too busy being yelled at by the coach.” Then his grin faded. “Tell me something, Grady, and I want the truth. Was I as much of a jerk to you earlier this season as Paul is being to me now?”

  To his relief, Grady laughed again. “I didn’t like you very much for a while. But I was pretty sure you’d come around eventually.”

  “Thanks to Barry, I did. How is his physical therapy coming along?” Since his accident, Barry had been working with a therapist, trying to regain the use of his bad leg.

  Grady was quiet for so long Julian that grew nervous. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, yeah, Barry’s fine,” Grady answered. “He told me he gave you the candy before you left, by the way. Have you had any yet?”

  “Yeah, like a third of it,” Julian confessed.

  “Sheesh! I didn’t know you were such a pig!”

  The boys chatted a while longer and then Grady said he had to go finish his homework. “It was good talking to you, Jools.”

  It was only after Julian had hung up that he realized Grady had never really answered his question about Barry’s progress.

  Could Grady be hiding something from me? he wondered. And if so, why?

  He yawned suddenly. A quick glance at the clock showed him that it was near his bedtime. “I’m just imagining things,” he said as he changed into a T-shirt and flannel pants. “Grady said Barry was fine. So he must be fine.”

  Julian went to bed soon after that. He awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and determined to face head-on whatever challenges came that day.

  The hours at school passed without a problem; he knew where his classrooms were, who his teachers were, and knew a few of his classmates too. But when he walked onto the basketball court that afternoon, his determination faltered.

  Once again, Coach Boyd separated the team into two groups, one of starters, one of subs. Once again, Julian was put in with the subs. Even though he’d been expecting it, he couldn’t help resenting his placement with the less-talented players.

  That resentment grew whenever he watched the starters practice. There were some good players on that side of the court. But as far as he could tell, their skills were going to waste. The coach seemed to have designed nearly every play with one goal in mind: get the ball to Paul!

  Julian worked hard not to let his frustration get the better of him during that practice or the ones that followed in the next two days. Instead, he put his energy into the drills he and the other subs ran. But when it came time for his first game in a Warriors uniform, the cold hard reality of his situation sank in completely.

  He was a benchwarmer.

  13

  Let’s go, Warriors!”

  The cheers rang out from the fans scattered throughout the bleachers of the gymnasium. Julian smoothed the slippery red fabric of his new jersey and then joined his teammates circling the court for a few warm-up laps.

  “Come on, Pryce, shake a leg! Or do I have to come down there and show you how it’s done?”

  Julian jerked his head around. He knew that voice—Barry! He searched the stands, looking for a kid sitting with his bound leg propped up next to a pair of crutches. That’s why he missed Barry at first; his old friend wasn’t sitting at all, he was standing on two legs!

  Julian’s jaw dropped. “No way!” he called. “Awesome!”

  Barry heard Julian’s cry and grinned from ear to ear. But when he moved to sit down, Julian noticed he still favored his left leg.

  Julian realized then that although Barry’s injured leg was better, it wasn’t healed completely. Still, he’d come a long way in the two weeks since Julian had last seen him! It made him wonder what else he’d missed back home—and what he’d keep missing every day.

  Paul Boyd drew alongside him then. “Got a fan in the stands, huh, Pryce?” he sneered. “Big deal. Seen my fan club lately?” He jerked his chin toward another section of the bleachers.

  Julian looked and saw two dozen middle school kids sitting together. Some of them held signs saying “Go, Paul!” When the team ran by them, they started chanting. “Paul Boyd, he’s our man! If he can’t do it, no one can!”

  I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Julian thought. Give me a chance, and I’ll give you someone else to cheer about!

  By then, the other team had arrived. The Suns wore yellow uniforms as brilliant as their team name. They took over one half of the court and began doing layup drills. After a minute, the Warriors did the same at their end of the court.

  A buzzer sounded soon after to alert the teams that the game was about to begin.

  “All right, Jools, show ’em what you can do!” Julian heard Barry yell.

  “Yeah, Jools,” Paul mimicked, “show ’em how good you are at riding the pine!”

  Julian glowered but didn’t say a word. He knew he’d get into the game at some point. He had to; it was the league regulation. And when he did, he’d make the most of every second he played.

  For now, however, he had to swallow his pride and sit with the other subs. He risked a glance at Barry, expecting his friend to look surprised, or worse, amused. But Barry just smiled and gave him a thumbs-up sign.

  The game started a moment later. Paul sauntered onto the floor and took up his position in the center circle. The Suns center did the same. The ref stood between them with the ball.

  Julian leaned forward. He loved the second before the tip-off. Even now, sitting on the bench, his body tensed, ready to spring like a coil suddenly let loose.

  Tweet!

  The whistle blew. The ball soared from the ref’s fingertips into the air between the centers. Paul jumped high—but the Suns center jumped higher. With a mighty wallop, he sent the ball sizzling down into his guard’s hands.

  The Sun guard didn’t hold it for long. After two dribbles, he passed up the court to another guard. The Warriors, meanwhile, rushed back on defense.

  “Two-one-two!” Coach Boyd shouted.

  Julian looked at him in surprise. He’s just telling them what zone to run now? Shouldn’t he have done that before the game?

  The Warriors hesitated for just a split second before hurrying to their positions. But that second was enough for the Suns guard to thread a path right through them. Then—thump! swish!—he banked in a beautiful shot three feet from the hoop.

  The whole move was so smooth that Julian almost jumped to his feet to applaud. Luckily, he remembered at the last moment that he was playing for the other team!

  Booker, the Warriors guard, took the ball under the basket. He passed to Murdock, who dribbled quickly down the floor.

  “FX 1!” Murdock cried as he crossed the center line. “FX 1!”

  FX 1? Julian thought. What the heck is that?

  The play’s setup found Murdock bringing the ball to the right top corner of the key. Booker took the opposite corner. Paul was in the right corner on the baseline. Jackson, one of the forwards, was in the other while Will, the second forward, sprinted to the far left edge of the three-point arc.

  The Suns, meanwhile, positioned themselves in a one-two-two zone, arms raised, legs wide, in classic defensive poses. Still, they were one step behind the Warriors when the play unfolded.

  Whap! Murdock slapped the ball with the palm of his hand to signal the play’s start. Then he passed over to Booker and ran down to set a pick on the Sun closest to Paul. Jackson came across the court, too, to set a second screen.

  Free from defenders, Paul rolled out of his slot and dashed in front of the hoop. Will crossed behind him. Paul held up his hands, clearly looking for a pass from Booker.

  But a Sun
was covering Booker too well. A pass could have been easily picked off. Booker dribbled back a few steps. The defender followed, but not soon enough. With lightning-quick speed, Booker switched from a right-hand dribble to a left-hand dribble. He made a beeline for left side of the court.

  Again, the defender followed. He was so intent on watching the ball that he didn’t see Paul.

  Pick! Set a pick for Booker! Julian urged silently. All Paul needed to do was put his body in the defender’s way. The defender would crash into him—and Booker could keep dribbling past on his way to the hoop and a possible basket.

  But Paul either didn’t see that opportunity or chose to ignore it. He sidled farther away from the hoop and clapped his hands. The sound drew the defender’s attention—more than one defender, actually. Suddenly, three players were surrounding Paul and Booker. Booker panicked and stopped his dribble. Now they were trapped!

  14

  A split second passed with both Paul and Booker standing as if frozen.

  Julian jumped to his feet. “Help him out, Paul!” he cried.

  Maybe Paul heard him. Or maybe he’d already made up his mind to do just that. In any event, he took one step toward Booker. When the closest Sun mirrored his move, Paul charged the other way, toward the hoop.

  The movement must have distracted the other two defenders, for suddenly, Booker twisted between them and bounced a pass to Paul. Paul caught it, turned to the hoop, jumped—and clanged a mighty brick off the rim!

  The ball ricocheted high in the air. Paul, Will, and Jackson jockeyed with three Suns for the best positions for the rebound. Paul and the Suns tall center reached it first. The ball danced between their fingertips before finally coming to land in the Sun’s hands.

  The Sun didn’t hesitate. With a practiced move, he hurled an outlet pass to his guard, who was waiting near the sideline. The guard caught it and raced down the court, dribbling madly. So madly, in fact, that he lost control of the ball! It flew out of his hands and into the nearby bleachers.

  Tweet! The referee blew a short blast on his whistle and then hurried to retrieve the ball.

  That was a lucky break, Julian thought. A few more steps and he would have been in firing range!

  The Suns’ turnover ended with a Warrior basket. Tie score, 2–2, with four minutes remaining in the first eight-minute quarter.

  Julian shifted on the bench. He’d never realized how hard wooden bleachers could be. Of course, he’d never spent so much time sitting on one before, at least not during a game.

  The play moved from the Suns’ end of the court to the Warriors’, and back again. The Suns scored a few buckets, but the Warriors drained some of their own, including a steady-handed free throw from Jackson that swished the net strings. When the buzzer sounded, the score stood at Suns 12, Warriors 9.

  Julian stood up and applauded along with his teammates. He glanced at the stands to where Barry was sitting. Barry gave him a smile. Then he pointed from Julian to the court and shrugged. “So, when are you getting in?” those gestures seemed to ask.

  Julian looked away. If that was the question, he didn’t know the answer.

  He still didn’t know the answer when the halftime buzzer went off. But he did know something else—he absolutely hated sitting on the sidelines!

  Every muscle in his body ached from the tension of watching when he wanted to be playing. He longed for the sting of the ball as it hit his hands, for the feel of sweat of pouring down his face. He missed the thud of the blood pumping through his veins and the breathlessness that came with running up and down the court. Heck, he even missed the squeak of his sneakers on the polished wood!

  One thing’s for sure, he thought. I’ll never take playing for granted again!

  “Warriors!” Coach Boyd’s angry shout made Julian start. “In the far corner! Now!”

  Julian grimaced. He knew why the coach was upset. The Warriors were behind 23 to 18. Julian was pretty sure Paul had made only five of those points—not enough to please his father, no doubt. He grabbed his water bottle and followed his teammates to the end of the court.

  Paul sat next to the coach, a thick towel draped over his shoulders. As Coach Boyd gave his players a pep talk—more like a talking to, Julian thought—Paul used the towel to wipe perspiration from his face and neck.

  Julian bit his lip. He had a towel just like that in the duffel bag he’d stowed behind his seat. Even though his mother washed the towel after every game, Julian liked to imagine that it held a bit of the sweat it had collected from those matches—mementos of each one he’d played.

  Mom won’t have to wash that towel after this game, he thought ruefully.

  “Pryce!”

  Julian’s head snapped up at the sound of Coach Boyd calling his name.

  “I hope you’ve been paying attention,” the coach said, “because you’re going in at the start of the second half.”

  Julian blinked in surprise and then nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I—I won’t let you down, sir!”

  Coach Boyd pressed his lips together in a thin line but he didn’t reply. He named a few other subs going in with Julian, including Skeeter and Alex at guard. Then the referee called over that the second half was going to begin in a few minutes.

  “All right, Warriors,” Coach Boyd growled. “Let’s see you put a cloud over those Suns! Hands in the middle and…go Warriors!”

  Julian and the others hurried to the court for some warm-up drills. The movement loosened Julian’s muscles and for the first time that afternoon, he felt himself relax.

  That feeling lasted only a few seconds after the starters returned to the bench. To his shock, Paul wasn’t among them!

  Maybe he didn’t hear his father say I was starting this quarter, he thought. But when he tried to tell Paul as much, Paul just laughed.

  “Nice try!” he said.

  “But—”

  “But nothing!” Paul cut in. “You may be in the game, but not at center. I’m the only center on this team. You’re in for Will. At forward!”

  15

  Forward?!” Julian’s mouth dropped open in horror. “But I don’t know what to do at forward!”

  Paul rolled his eyes. “Well, I hope you’re a fast learner, then, because that’s your position for the next few minutes.”

  “Ready, Warriors?” the referee called just then.

  Paul nodded. Then, without a backward glance at Julian, he hurried off for the opening throw-in. Julian hesitated at mid-court, unsure of where to go or what to do. Then Jackson appeared at his side.

  “Keep an eye on number 13 over there, okay?” the freckled-faced forward said to Julian. “Will said he’s got a good shot, and he’s on your side of the zone—the left baseline corner of the two-one-two zone. If we get the ball, run down the side to the left corner.”

  “Thanks, Jackson,” Julian said gratefully. “But what do I do on offense?”

  Jackson gave a short laugh. “Do what the rest of us do—get the ball to Paul!”

  Julian was surprised to hear bitterness in Jackson’s voice. For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe the other Warrior starters didn’t care for Coach Boyd’s strategy any more than he and the subs did. But there wasn’t time to ask about that now. The game was about to resume, and he needed to get into position!

  The referee gave the Suns guard the ball and blew the whistle. The guard immediately bounced a pass to a forward, who returned it just as quickly.

  Julian raced down to the left corner of the zone defense. He raised his hands in the air and watched the ball carrier like a hawk. Would the guard drive to the hoop? Take a jump shot? Or would he pass to set up a play?

  A movement to his right caught his eye. A Sun player had slipped behind Jackson along the baseline. Now he was turning to look at the guard.

  He’s waiting for a pass! The thought struck Julian just as the guard stopped his dribble. Julian lunged to put himself between the Sun and the ball. He stretched out his hand, reaching
, reaching—whap! His palm met the ball squarely and deflected the ball away from the waiting Sun! Even better, the ball bounced at Skeeter’s feet!

  Skeeter scooped it up, held it for a second, and then put it to the floor with a soft, controlled fingertip dribble. Players rushed past him, Warriors to get down on offense, Suns to set up on defense.

  Julian hurried to the left corner, as Jackson had instructed him to do. Once there, however, he was at a loss. What am I supposed to do now?

  Luckily, Skeeter was taking his time bringing the ball down the court. Those precious seconds gave Julian a chance to think—and to remember what the forwards on his old team used to do.

  Cut in and out of the key, move toward the ball, set picks, and shoot! It wasn’t that different from what he did at center, actually.

  He danced a few steps into the paint. That maneuver drew his defender to him. So he backpedaled out again. His defender didn’t follow. Instead, the Sun moved to stay close to Paul.

  They’ve figured out that Paul is the one taking the shots! Julian suddenly realized. They don’t think I’m a scoring threat! He smiled inwardly. Well, they’d be wrong about that! If I can just get the ball…

  It was as if Skeeter had read his mind, for at that moment, he stopped his dribble and fired a pass into Julian’s hands.

  Paul signaled for the ball. But two Suns were covering him so completely that any attempted pass would end up in a turnover.

  Julian, on the other hand, was wide open. He paused and then shot.

  The ball arced high above the Suns and the Warriors. It seemed to hang in the air before beginning its descent. When it did come down, it was directly over the hoop.

  Fwing! Nothing but net! Two points!

  “Whoo-hoo, Jools! Way to go!” Barry’s voice rang out loud and clear above the smattering of applause.

  Julian grinned as he ran past the stands to get on defense. “Who’s that kid?” he heard someone ask.