Copyright
Copyright © 1970 by Catherine M. Christopher
Copyright © renewed 1998 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
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New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark of Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
First eBook Edition: December 2009
ISBN: 978-0-316-09392-7
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Matt Christopher®
The #1 Sports Series for Kids: Matt Christopher®
To my cousin, Fred
1
Come on, Johnny,” said Toby, brown-haired, a head shorter and on the stocky side. “Let's get the toboggan.”
Johnny Reese pushed aside the thoughts of the home he and Mom had left in New York City and followed his new, younger brother to the garage where a long, pale blue toboggan was hung on the wall. The boys lifted it off the hook and set it on the floor.
Man, though Johnny. A toboggan. A sled. An aquarium in the living room. What is it that this stepbrother of mine doesn't have? Back in the city I had nothing.
“You'd be a good man on our basketball team, Johnny,” observed Toby, smiling. “We need a guy with long legs.”
Johnny grinned and pulled his hat down over his ears. The early December air was nippy. “You play basketball in this small town?”
“What do you mean?” snapped Toby. “Sure we do. We have a Junior Basketball League and play twice a week. We've already played two games.”
A league? Man! He had never played in a league game. Just scrub.
The boys pulled the toboggan across the snow-packed road to the hill, climbed all the way to the top of it, and then rode down, Johnny sitting behind Toby. The wind lashed against their faces, the sound of the runners sang in their ears.
The field was long. The boys coasted nearly to the edge of it, close to the fence, and then started to pull the toboggan back up again. One hundred feet away two guys were cruising along briskly on a snowmobile.
“Am I glad my dad and your mom got married,” said Toby. “I was getting tired of Grandpa's cooking. Potatoes, hamburg, and hot dogs. You get tired of that after a while.”
“I suppose,” said Johnny, thoughtfully.
He had lost his dad in a car accident and Toby's mother had died from an illness. Later Johnny's mother and Toby's father had met at an education convention in New York City and had written each other ever since.
Then along came the letter from Toby's father asking Mom to marry him. It seemed to be the happiest moment in Mom's life. Johnny didn't know what to think of it at first. But after a long talk with Mom she convinced him that she really loved the guy. And she'd been pretty lonely since Johnny's dad had died. In the end, Johnny was glad she'd met Mr. Reese.
“I hope you won't mind living in a small town,” Mr. Reese had written. “You can put Lansburg on two blocks in New York City and still have room to spare.”
Of course she didn't mind it a single bit. And Johnny didn't think he would either.
A thin spiral of smoke curled up from the snowy ground ahead of them. Johnny stooped, squashed the burning tip of a cigarette into the snow, then stood and rubbed it clean.
“What are you going to do with that?” asked Toby curiously.
“Smoke it,” said Johnny. “Back home us guys…” He paused and looked at Toby. “Why?”
“Does Mom know you smoke?”
“No. But I don't much, anyway.”
“Better not let Dad see you,” warned Toby.
“You going to snitch?”
Toby didn't answer for a minute. “No,” he said then.
Johnny unzipped a coat pocket and dropped the butt into it. “Come on,” he said. “Let's get up the hill.”
He started school on Monday. Mom drove him there. He handed his transfer papers from Public School No. 14 to Mr. Taylor, the guidance counselor, who introduced him to his new homeroom teacher, Miss Abby. She was shorter than Johnny in spite of her high heels and wore her black hair up high.
Miss Abby introduced him to the class, then requested one of the boys, a Jim Sain, to show Johnny to his classes after each period. She gave Johnny a card on which were listed the subjects he was going to take, the room numbers, and the hours.
Jim Sain was slightly shorter than Johnny and reminded him of some of the boys at P.S. 14. His black uncombed hair hung over his ears. His clothes were disheveled, as if he had slept in them. His face looked waxen, as if it seldom cracked a smile.
After the period was over, a finger jabbed Johnny's shoulder. “Come on,” said Jim Sain. “Grab your English book.”
Johnny followed him to a classroom down the hall. Students passed back and forth in the hallway in droves, their arms loaded with books. Boys greeted Jim and looked at Johnny appraisingly.
Johnny saw Toby and for the first time felt like smiling. “Hi, Toby.”
“Hi, Johnny. How are you doing? Hi, Jim.”
“Hi,” said Jim.
Johnny wanted to stop a moment and talk with his stepbrother. But Jim kept walking and Johnny didn't have a chance to. What's the matter with the guy? Johnny asked himself. Is it my fault that Miss Abby asked him to show me to my classes?
At lunchtime, twelve-fifteen, the two boys walked down the long white corridor to the cafeteria.
“You stand in line here to buy lunch,” grunted Jim.
Johnny looked around for Toby. “When do the seventh graders eat?” he asked.
“They already have,” answered Jim. “We're the last ones.” He looked at Johnny and chuckled. “That makes us big shots, I guess.”
They got their lunches and carried them to the long tables. Johnny started to follow Jim, then paused when Jim put his tray on the table and sat between two boys. The next vacant place was five chairs away. Johnny went to it, placed his tray on the table, and sat down.
Several girls sitting across from him were talking in soft tones and laughing, and for a minute he wondered whether they were laughing at him. After a while he realized they were talking about some girl's hair style.
“Are you Toby's cousin?” asked the boy next to him.
“Stepbrother,” said Johnny.
“I'm Bert Buttons,” said the boy. He had a mop of blond hair and lots of freckles. “Guys call me Stitch.”
He held out a hand and Johnny took it.
“Stitch, huh?” Johnny grinned. “I'm Johnny Reese.”
“I've never seen you before.”
“Came Saturday,” said Johnny.
“From where?”
“New York City.”
He lifted his glass of milk. Just as he started to drink it someone bumped his head and half of the milk spilled over his shirtfront and pants.
“Oh! Sorry!”
Johnny looked around. Jim Sain was standing there, a faint, apologetic smile on his face.
Instant anger flashed in Johnny's eyes. He felt like belting Jim, but he controlled himself and didn't move.
“What
happened?” asked a sharp, adult voice.
Johnny saw a man in a black suit and green tie looking at them from the next table.
“I bumped into him,” confessed Jim. “And the milk spilled on his shirt.”
Johnny wiped the milk from his clothes with a napkin. Jim might have bumped him by accident but there was a lot of room between the chairs. And the way Jim had been acting toward him…
“I saw it happen,” said one of the girls. “Jim did it on purpose.”
“I did not!” Jim snarled. “Anyway, who asked for your two cents?”
He suddenly swung off to the kitchen with his tray, then stamped out of the cafeteria with long, bold strides.
Johnny looked at the girl. Her brown eyes matched her thick shoulder-length hair. “Are you sure he did it on purpose?”
“Yes, I'm sure. If I were you I'd knock his block off.”
“Enough of that, Karen.” The man in the black suit had come over and was standing behind Johnny. “I'll speak to Jim about this,” he said. “You're the new boy, aren't you? Johnny Reese?”
“Yes. But you don't have to speak to him, sir. It could have been an accident.”
“I'll speak to him anyway.” The man smiled, patted Johnny on the shoulder, and left.
“That's Mr. Thomas,” said Stitch. “He'll speak to Jim, but I doubt if it'll do any good.”
“He's a punk,” said the girl.
Johnny finished his lunch, feeling better now that someone had come on his side. Jim was a strange one, all right. His type was the last Johnny had expected to see here in Lansburg.
“Do you play basketball?” asked Stitch.
“Some,” replied Johnny.
“Maybe you can play with us. We're the White Cats. Toby's on our team. You might have your chance to get even with Jim on the court. He plays with the Hornets.”
Johnny felt discouraged. He didn't want to get even with anyone. He had hoped not to make enemies here. Especially not on the first day of school.
2
On Tuesday, December 7, the White Cats played the Swordtails at five o'clock in the Community Hall gymnasium. Tonight was the third night of the Junior Basketball League. The White Cats' record was one win, one loss.
Toby introduced Johnny to Coach Biff Dates, a big, barrel-chested man. AUBURN was printed on the back of his sweatshirt.
“Can we use him?” Toby asked. “He played basketball a lot in New York City.”
“In that case I think we can,” answered the coach, pumping Johnny's hand and looking him up and down with a very pleased expression on his round face. “We need those long legs. Did you play center, Johnny?”
“Mostly.” Johnny blushed. Everybody always reminded him of his long legs.
“Well, that's where I would put you,” said the coach. “Can't try you out tonight anyway. Have to register you first. I'll watch you work out tomorrow night and possibly start you Thursday against the Astro Jets.”
Coach Dates introduced him to the members of the team and let him sit on the bench with them. The White Cats uniform was all white with the team's name printed on the front and numbers on the back. Toby's number was 8. He played left guard. The other guard was Cotton Cornish. At center was Rick Davis. The forwards were Stitch Buttons and Huck Stevens.
Johnny couldn't get over the large, beautiful gym. The two baskets had glass backboards behind them. A large electric scoreboard was at one end. A movable seating stand was against one wall. This court would put the one he had played on in New York to shame.
And imagine having a ref with a black and white striped shirt and black pants with white stripes down the sides. The kids in his neighborhood never had real refs. They took turns refereeing themselves.
Rick scored the first basket with a layup, then Toby tossed one in from a corner to put the White Cats in a 4 to 0 lead. Later the referee's whistle shrilled and a foul was called on Huck. Huck had struck a Swordtail's hand when the player jumped for a layup.
Two shots. The Swordtail missed the first and made the second.
Gradually the Swordtails crept ahead of the White Cats. The Cats finally evened the score, rallied for a while, then fell behind again. They trailed 12 to 10 when the first quarter ended.
Then Johnny realized that he was alone on the bench. The other players were standing around Coach Biff Dates. No one seemed to notice him and he didn't know whether to join them or not. He stayed there.
I don't know, he thought. I never played basketball like it's played here. Move your foot an inch and you're called for traveling. Touch a guy and it's a foul. I've never played by such strict rules.
There were basketball leagues in New York City but Mom had not wanted him to join a team. She had not wanted him to play basketball at all. Only after he had pleaded with her had she allowed him to play scrub games. She didn't care for basketball. She didn't care at all for athletics.
Was it his fault that he had to prove to the guys that he was no sissy by smoking with them? Once a kid had dared him to swipe a melon from a fruit stand. He swiped it, but had been caught and made to promise he would never steal again or he'd go to jail. He had kept that promise.
The second quarter got under way. Huck dumped in three field goals himself. The quarter ended with the Swordtails leading, 26 to 23.
The White Cats fell further behind in the third quarter. Then Cotton Cornish got hot in the fourth and sank three in a row, plus a foul shot. Rick laid in a couple and Toby sank two long ones to put the White Cats back in the lead.
When the final whistle blew the Cats won by two points, 61 to 59.
“Told you we have a good fighting club,” said Toby, dressing in the locker room after a quick shower. “When Thursday comes we'll be even better.”
Johnny would be on the team then. He felt tense and worried, though. Toby believed that he was a darn good basketball player just because he was tall. But he wasn't. Toby and the whole White Cats team were going to be in for a real disappointment.
He practiced with the White Cats the next evening. In a scrimmage game Coach Dates played him at center and he just barely out-jumped his opponent, a kid much shorter than he. He wondered whether the coach would put him in at all in the White Cats' next game.
The coach gave him a uniform before the Astro Jets game which meant, at least, that he was on the White Cats' team. Number 4 was on the back of the jersey.
“Biggest size I have,” the coach said, smiling.
Johnny stood in line with the other players before the game started and shot baskets with them. He felt everyone's eyes on him, watching to see how well he performed. He was the tallest boy on the team, topping Rick by an inch.
The game started. Both teams seemed evenly matched. The first quarter was half over when Coach Dates nudged Johnny. “Go in for Rick, Johnny. Report to the scorekeeper.”
Johnny shook his opponent's hand as he had seen the players do, then hopped around the center of the court, waiting for Toby to throw the ball in from out of bounds.
Toby passed it to him. He caught it, dribbled across the center line, and then stopped as an Astro Jet tried to pounce on the ball. Johnny lifted it high out of the way, then pivoted.
The whistle shrilled.
“Traveling!” cried the ref, twirling his hands to show the infraction.
Johnny stared at him. Traveling? He had barely moved his foot!
The Astro Jets took out the ball. Huck intercepted the pass-in, dribbled a few steps, then passed to Johnny. Johnny drove in for a layup, but a hand rose in front of him and tapped the ball away.
An enthusiastic yell came from the Astro Jet fans. Bewildered, Johnny looked at the player who had stopped him from making a basket. A boy at least a foot shorter than he!
“Way to jump, Stogy!” yelled a fan.
The Astro Jets had the ball and were taking it down their end of the court. An instant later an Astro Jet passed. Another caught the ball, leaped, and sank it for two points.
Toby ran upcourt and
met Johnny's eyes. A stunned look was on his face.
“Thought you had one for sure,” he said disappointedly.
3
Johnny learned that the small Astro Jet who had outjumped him was Stogy Giles. For each basket scored by one of his teammates, Stogy scored two. He was lightning fast and easily the best player on the Astro Jets team.
Johnny stayed in when the second quarter started. The Astro Jets were leading 13 to 7. They took the ball from out of bounds and moved it across the court in a series of quick, snappy passes. Johnny covered the backboard as an Astro Jet shot one from the foul line, but an Astro Jet outjumped him and caught the rebound.
A yell went up from the Astro Jet fans. “Nice going, Stogy! Those long legs! They're too heavy for him to lift!”
Johnny tried to shut out the needling cries. They pricked and hurt. Could he help it that he couldn't jump? He was trying, wasn't he?
Nat Newton took Toby's place and plunked one in from a corner. Later Johnny was fouled as he tried a layup and was given two shots. While he bounced the ball at the foul line he prayed he would make both of them. Making both would help to cancel out his poor jumping.
He hit the first shot and missed the second.
He rushed in for the rebound. But once again Stogy Giles outjumped him and took possession of the ball for the Astro Jets. He scooted under Johnny's outstretched arm like a bug, dribbled all the way down-court, then shot a pass to a teammate. The Jet broke for the basket and scored.
The quarter was half over when Coach Dates took out Johnny and put Rick back in. “You're not getting off your feet, Johnny,” he said, tapping Johnny's right leg with his big hand. “What the matter, big guy? No spring in those long legs?”
“Guess not,” replied Johnny lamely.
“Exercise them,” advised the coach. “Walk and run all you can. And jump. You'll notice the difference.”
Johnny nodded.
The Astro Jets led 26 to 19 when the half ended. Both teams went downstairs to their locker rooms for a rest. When they returned Johnny caught a glimpse of two familiar figures walking toward the stands at the far end of the court. Mom and Dad!
Johnny Long Legs Page 1