Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10)

by David B. Smith

  “Well, hope you guys do OK.”

  Bucky munched at a huge chocolate brownie without responding. Just then a knot of cheerleaders trooped by the rusted metal picnic table. Even in the cold November air they wore their brief outfits. For a moment he thought back to the previous school year. During most of second semester he had often had lunch with Lisa. Her vivacious chatter had made the time flash by. A wince of loneliness tugged at him.

  A glance at his watch told him it was nearly time for geometry. “Well, I got a test on all of chapter five,” he said dourly. “Better move out.”

  Sam waved him off, taking a last swig of soda as he did so. “Good luck on the test. And good luck with practice this afternoon.”

  • • • • •

  As Bucky suited up for scrimmage, he glanced over at Dan. As a tiny grin crossed his face, he slithered along the bench to the older boy. “Don’t forget our signals,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

  After the routine number of pushups and laps, Coach Brayshaw divided up the squad once again. “Red, Blue, here we go. Let’s see what we can get done in twenty minutes.”

  Bucky raised an eyebrow. It was the first time he, Dan, and the tall center, Andy Gorton, had been assigned to the same squad. Brayshaw tossed the ball up and Andy easily controlled the tip, deflecting the ball toward Dan. Catching Bucky’s eye, Dan began dribbling up the floor.

  Moving quickly to the side lane mark, Bucky stationed himself with his back to the basket. Behind him was a blue-shirted defender. As Dan dribbled closer, Bucky gave an almost imperceptible eye motion toward the center of the lane. Dan, guarded tightly by another Blue defender, stopped dribbling and looked around as if to spot an open man. With a quick lob toss, he sent the ball right into Bucky’s hands. A split second later he dashed past his defender and right toward Bucky, who faked left a then smoothly laid the ball back in Dan’s hands for unopposed drive for a layup. Score!

  A groan went up from the Blue squad. “Somebody pick him up!” growled the backup center.

  Bucky and Dan scurried back to play defense. “Not bad!” Dan whispered, giving Bucky a quick high five.

  A few plays later, with Red already up by six points, Bucky dribbled down the court. Picked up by a defender, he passed the ball off and then moved over to the low post near the basket. Moments later, the ball handler, surrounded by two defenders, tossed in desperation back to Bucky, who was still tightly hemmed in by one of the Blue guards.

  “Shoot it!” a Red player hollered from midcourt. Indeed, it was the very situation that too often led to a wild, low-percentage shot. But Bucky held the ball for a moment, his eyes scanning the floor. Standing motionless at the top of the key, Andy Gorton waited for him to take a shot. With a quick bob of his head, Bucky motioned to the center: Down the middle!

  Startled, the center took a few steps forward. Whirling quickly, Bucky passed the ball deftly into Gorton’s hands, who caught it and laid it in, all in one motion. Grinning, Bucky headed back down the court to play defense.

  “Nice pass,” the center muttered grudgingly as he took his own post under the opposing basket.

  “Pretty move, Gorton!” the coach hollered over the clatter of the ten players traveling the length of the court. “Way to move in!” A pause. “Good assist, Stone,” he added after a slight pause.

  Twice more during the brief practice game Bucky and Dan worked the give - and - go to perfection. And Bucky proved to be an uncanny passer, finding Andy and Dan open for easy layups or short jump shots. Just once one of his passes eluded the tall center, who simply wasn’t paying attention.

  “Guess I gotta keep my eyes open when you’ve got the ball,” Andy panted with a grin as they trotted back up the floor. His dark skin glistened with perspiration. “My fault on that one, man.” He slapped Bucky on the back. “Just keep ‘em coming.”

  Bucky breathed a prayer of thanks as he showered off after the game. “Maybe the guys’ll warm up after all,” he thought to himself. “Dan was right about good passing making points . . . and not just basketball points, either!” He rode home with a cautious smile on his face.

  The next morning Bucky enjoyed a few extra minutes basking in the hot shower. The warm streams of water beat down on his head and shoulders as he stood motionless, thinking about the upcoming game.

  “Wonder if Coach’ll put us in,” he muttered to himself as he toweled off. He added a short “Thy will be done” postscript to his morning prayer before heading down to breakfast.

  “Tonight’s it, huh?” Dad took a bite of cornflakes and glanced over at his son.

  “Yeah.” Bucky crossed his fingers on both hands. “Wish me luck.”

  “Do you think Mr. Brayshaw will play you?” Mom forked a second biscuit onto Rachel Mane’s plate with a smile.

  “I don’t know,” he responded slowly. “Things went real good in practice, but I know he still wants to ‘get’ both Dan and me.”

  • • • • •

  The gymnasium was already filling as Bucky donned his new junior varsity outfit for that evening’s game with the Cougars. Hampton High had a reputation for loyalty. Even JV games drew large crowds of vocal community fans. Posters and homemade signs dotted the walls, while two solitary championship banners proclaimed Panther triumphs in ‘05 and ‘09. “First game, men,” Coach Brayshaw had warned, “is a big one for us. Let’s get off to a fast start! One and oh after tonight!”

  The murmur of support was strangely subdued. Bucky listened intently for the names of the starting five players.

  “Gorton at center.” The coach gave his tall star an encouraging nod. “Need a huge game out of you, big guy.” He looked down at his list. “Gonzales, White, forwards . . .”

  The selections did not surprise Bucky. Before the two athletes even suited up, he had confided to Dan, “He ain’t gonna do it.”

  Still, he and Dan resolved now to be an enthusiastic part of the team. “Win! Win! Win!” they barked with the rest of the squad as they huddled together for a group cheer.

  A smattering of cheers went up from the stands as the athletes trotted onto the floor. “Go! Go! Panthers! Go! Go! Panthers!” A string of cheerleaders began to whip the student body into a burst of excitement.

  The game got underway with the usual mix of JV confusion. Even with days of practice and endless drills, the games themselves invariably descended into an undisciplined playground contest.

  “Pass off!” Coach Brayshaw hollered from the bench as a Panther forward tried a shot from more than twenty feet away. “Work it around!”

  The two referees called fouls meticulously and the frequent pauses in the game gave both coaches opportunity to shuttle fresh players in. Several times Coach Brayshaw looked right through Bucky and then selected another squad member to play.

  During halftime in the locker room, Bucky slid over to Dan. “Well, what do you think? We’re already down by seven.”

  The older boy grimaced. “Well, you’re watchin’ it all,” he growled. “No passin’, no plays. Just run and gun.” He gave a shrug. “Plus, so far, Litton and Stone have a total of . . . let’s see. Zero minutes! Thank you, Coach Brayshaw.”

  “Well, no surprises there,” Bucky replied, trying to keep his voice light. “We may still get a shot.”

  During the second half the visiting Cougars began to slowly pull away. The red-clad squad had a slight height advantage that was finally taking its toll. Also, their crisp passes and ball movement were leading to easy baskets despite the Panthers’ frenetic defense.

  Coach Brayshaw signaled that he wanted a time out, and Andy Gorton caught the referee’s attention. Reluctantly, the white-uniformed home team headed for the sideline.

  “Tighten up!” Coach Brayshaw repeated over and over. “And get that forward of theirs. He’s eatin’ us alive!”

  For several minutes afterward it appeared the Panthers might rally. Two quick layups by Andy brought the crowd to its feet – Panthers down only by seven! But a thr
ee-point bomb and a devastating fast break put the Cougars up by a hefty twelve once again with only five minutes left.

  The referee’s whistle brought another halt to the play. “Two shots on the foul, number eleven.” The official motioned for Chris Randolph, the Panthers’ point guard, to take his place at the free throw line.

  “Sub!” Brayshaw’s voice was unexpected. Bucky looked up. Coach was staring right at him! “Go in for Walters, Stone,” Brayshaw commanded. He gave Bucky a long, meaningful look. “Litton, you’re in too.”

  His heart pounding, Bucky bounced onto the court. “Thanks,” he murmured to the coach.

  He took his place along the lane. “Get these two shots, Randolph, and let’s go to work!” Quietly he sent up a prayer. Help me to do my best!

  After taking a deep breath, Chris swished the first shot through the net. A hopeful cheer swept the building. “One more!” Bucky urged. Chris took careful aim. Swish!

  The Panthers held the opposing squad scoreless the next time. Taking the rebound, Dan headed cautiously upcourt. The defenders were back en masse. Bucky caught Dan’s eye as he approached, dribbling expertly. Quickly he moved to his usual spot near the lane.

  The quick lob toss, head fake, and dash to the basket worked to perfection. Pounding hard, Dan laid the ball gently off the glass for two more points. Down by eight! A roar filled the building.

  “Hold ‘em now!” Bucky breathed at Andy Gorton, the sweat-drenched center. Flanked now by Dan and Bucky, the tall, lanky player had a new look of intensity.

  A moment later a second cheer went up as Andy blocked a shot – right into the hands of a teammate. “In your face! In your face!” the cheerleaders chanted as the fast-break points made the deficit a scant six.

  “Time out!” The Cougars huddled near their bench, trying to figure out a plan to stop the revitalized home team.

  Bucky edged over to the center. “Let’s run one down the middle. Like in practice, remember?” He turned to Dan. “Try to set a pick for him if you can.”

  Once again the Panthers’ swarming defense held the other team’s shooters, but now the time clock showed just two minutes left. Bucky took the rebound from Andy and passed off to a guard who headed up the left side of the floor. Dribbling near the end line, he flipped it back to Bucky, who looked over to Dan, near the top of the key. Standing next to him was the expectant Andy.

  “Now!” Bucky tossed the basketball to Dan, who faked once and then sent it right back. Almost instinctively the center whirled to his left and charged down the center lane. His defender turned to follow, but found a bulky Dan Litton directly in his path. Bucky shoveled the assist pass to Andy, who drove for a layup. A whistle pierced the air. Cougars 72, Panthers 68!

  “A foul, too?” Bucky gasped. “All right!”

  Andy stood at the free throw line, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Come on!” Bucky urged.

  “One shot. Play the miss, gents,” the referee advised. Andy sighted carefully – it was a huge free throw.

  “Score!” The cheerleaders directed the crowd in a chant. “Beat those Cougars! Beat those Cougars!” The ball rattled through the hoop. A second later the chant switched: “DE-fense!” Thump thump! “DE-fense!” Thump thump! A quick glance at the clock showed 1:17 to go.

  At the other end, Bucky took a desperate chance, straying far out of his territory to harass an enemy shooter. “Pick up my man!” he hollered over his shoulder as he leaped high in the air, trying to block the guard’s shot. Another cheer went up as the ball bounced off the rim and into Dan’s hands.

  The star forward caught Bucky’s eye as the team moved downcourt. One more time? Again the give - and - go worked to perfection, as Dan lumbered up the key after receiving Bucky’s pass.

  “This is it!” Dan gasped to Bucky as they backpedaled furiously for a last stand. “Down by one!”

  The Cougars handled the ball methodically, working the 45-second shot clock to perfection. With just seconds left, their top guard let fly with an outside bomb. The crowd sucked in its breath. Straight as a string . . . but just an inch too long! Another roar went up as the ball bounced high in the air and a leaping Andy Gorton snagged it.

  Time out! Over in the corner of the gymnasium, a small knot of band students played a brass fanfare. The white-clad Panthers sat on their bench. Coach Brayshaw’s eyes intensely scanned them. “One more chance, guys,” he hissed eagerly.

  Dan took a deep breath and wiped his forehead. “I got a play,” he said. “Bucky and I been working on it. A fake-shot lob pass that I think’ll work.”

  “How’s it go?” a guard wanted to know.

  Dan pointed with his finger. “We crowd the left side, draw their defenders over that way, ‘specially their forward. Except for Bucky. He heads out to the right.” Pausing, he looked over at the other team’s bench. “I come up, count down the clock. With about eight to go, still maybe twenty-five feet, I let one go. Everybody figures it’s a long bomb.” Eagerly he looked around. “Except that right when I start the shot, Buck breaks for the basket. It’s a pass instead. Right into Stone’s hands. He lays it in, we win.”

  “What in the world is that?” Brayshaw demanded. “Have you practiced it?”

  “We just worked it up last weekend,” Dan explained.

  “I don’t know,” the coach muttered reluctantly. “Seems like we ought to go with Andy for a last shot here. What if you hit the rim?”

  “Hey, Coach, Bucky here hasn’t taken a shot all night,” Andy put in. “He’s been passing so much no one will expect it. I say go for it.”

  Dan shot the center a thankful look. “Up to you, Coach.” The gymnasium buzzer sounded harshly.

  Brayshaw shook his head doubtfully. “We’re out of time.” As he peered up at the clock, a frantic expression in his eyes, he said something under his breath. “OK, Litton, I hope you know what you’re doin’!”

  The team returned to the floor. In the corner a last “Charge!” fanfare went up from the horns. The crowd, by now exhausted, tensed for a final twenty-second showdown.

  Taking the ball from the referee, Dan passed it to Andy, who fed it right back and made his way over to the left side of the court. The other players, scurrying in a seemingly haphazard manner, also flooded the left side.

  Bucky, trying hard to slow the pounding in his chest, settled on the right side of the court. “Come on, Dan, make that lob good!” he pleaded to himself.

  With ten seconds to play, Dan slowed his dribble. The defending guard edged toward him hesitantly, but gave him a few feet of room. They were still too far away for in - your - face defending.

  Suddenly the crowd gasped as Dan took sight of the basket. “Not yet!” Coach Brayshaw yelled as a decoy. Quickly bolting past his defender, Dan, pretending not to hear, took aim and let a long twenty-eight-footer fly. The crowd, rooting with its hearts for a basket, groaned as the ball sailed wide of its mark . . . and right into Bucky’s grasp. The Cougars’ center whirled in desperation and leaped toward him, but hours of practice paid off for Bucky. With a quick release, he eased the ball back up, off the backboard, and neatly into the hoop just as the final buzzer sounded.

  Chapter Nine: Meeting in Coach Brayshaw’s Office

  The gym exploded as the winning two points flashed up on the huge scoreboard. Panthers 73, Visitors 72!

  Grinning from ear to ear, Bucky gave Dan a huge bear hug. “What a perfect pass!” he shouted. “Right on the money!” The rest of the team piled around, pounding them on the back. Coach Brayshaw stood staring at them, a strange expression on his face.

  Along the sideline an impromptu chant went up from the string of cheerleaders. “Litton – Stone! Litton – Stone!”

  Sweaty but flushed with victory, Dan stepped forward and gave the coach a victorious high five. “Where’s the tub of Gatorade?” he hollered to the team. “Let’s give this man a bath!”

  “No way!” Brayshaw protested with a grin. “I got my best duds on!” He punched Dan lightly o
n the arm. “I gotta admit, that was slick. And your lob was perfect. Nice goin’!” For a moment his eyes fell on Bucky.

  Bucky tensed, waiting. Suddenly the slowly diminishing roar of the cheering fans faded into the background. The coach licked his lips, his composure suddenly shaken.

  Forcing a smile, Bucky took a step forward. “Great job, Coach!” he said. “Way to go.”

  “Yeah,” Mr. Brayshaw managed at last. As he gave Bucky a long look, his eyes still held a trace of torment. Finally he held out his hand. “Nice game,” he muttered.

  The awkward moment passed as quickly as it had risen. “To the champagne!” Andy hollered. A cheer went up from the squad.

  “No champagne,” the athletic director retorted, now smiling again. “It’s just one game. We’re one and oh.”

  “Hey, we ain’t gonna win a monster squeaker like that one for a long time,” the tall center responded, raising both fists high in the air. The glowing knot of athletes headed for the corridor leading to the showers.

  As Bucky passed by the scoring table on his way out, something in the stands caught his eye. A tall, blonde girl standing alone in the fourth row stared at him, a curious smile on her face and frank interest in her eyes.

  His pulse quickened. Afraid to meet her gaze, he averted his own eyes and looked over at Dan. “Who is that?” he hissed under his breath.

  Dan shook his head with a grin. “I don’t know,” he responded softly. “But I’ll bet you’re gonna find out! And you’d better not e-mail Lisa about her, either.”

  Embarrassed, Bucky punched Dan on the shoulder. Afterward he showered quickly, toweling off his short-cropped blond hair. “Didn’t you say your folks came tonight?” Dan asked.

  “Yeah.” Bucky tossed the damp towel into a bin. “How about yours?”

  “Naaah.” Dan slipped his expensive watch onto his wrist. “I’m on my own tonight, and, boy, am I gonna party!”

  A warning bell sounded in Bucky’s mind. He gave his friend a probing look. “Go easy,” he advised.

  “Hey, don’t worry. I know my limit on beers.” A short laugh. “I can count to twenty!”