At the last remark, the coach gave a visible start. As he stared at Bucky, for a moment it seemed the old antagonism might return. “Yikes. I don’t . . .” He glanced around the room again, measuring his response.
Bucky managed a smile. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “He can still shoot.”
Coach Brayshaw nodded. “Just look out for him,” he said, his voice even. “The team needs him bad.”
• • • • •
The next afternoon Bucky boarded the bus for the short ride to the team’s first road game. A feeling of optimism filled the air. The miracle win the week before had given everyone a sense of invincibility.
Sitting alone near the back, Dan motioned him over. “How’s it going?” Bucky asked as he sat down.
“OK.” Dan forced a grin. “Dry for three days.”
“Good for you.” Bucky nodded encouragingly. “Counseling center found a time slot for you?”
“Yeah.”
“Hang in there, man. You know I’m prayin’ for you.”
“Thanks for the book you loaned me,” Dan said, lowering his voice.
The game with the Tornadoes began with a furious exchange of baskets. The home team had the biggest starting five in the district, and a huge wall banner proclaimed their one-word slogan: “INTIMIDATION!”
During the first timeout, Andy Gorton sank down on the hardwood, breathing heavily. “Man, those guys are fierce!” he panted. “It’s all elbows out there.” He reached for a paper cup of water. “And that center? Wilson? What a jerk!” He snapped off an oath as he glanced over his shoulder.
“Well, just stick to our plan,” Coach Brayshaw responded, looking up at the scoreboard. “We’re only down by two. If they keep this up, some of their boys are gonna foul out.”
The second half began with the Panthers still trailing, now by six points. Several times Dan and Bucky tried their patented give - and - go, but twice the other team thwarted the play with a shoulder or elbow. “Where’s the whistle?” Bucky muttered to Dan as yet another shove went uncalled.
With just four minutes left to go, the Panthers called time once again. “Just down by two!” Coach Brayshaw motioned. “But Gorton, you gotta watch your step from here on in. One more foul and you’re out.”
“Man, they’re pushin’ me on every play,” the lanky center complained.
“They’re really playing rough,” Chris, the little guard, added.
“I know it.” The coach’s face hardened. “I can see ‘em from here.” He glanced over at the referees. “Just give me all you got for these last four minutes.”
The game resumed with the Tornadoes bringing the ball inbounds. Their tall center elbowed past Andy for an easy layup. Score!
“Gimme some help in there,” Andy complained to Bucky as the Panthers made their way up the floor.
“I’ll try.”
Gorton had a vengeful look in his eyes. “When we set up, you get me the ball,” he growled.
Dan dribbled to the top of the key and stopped, scanning the playing area. He lobbed the ball over to Bucky and moved over to set a screen. Remembering Andy’s words, Bucky whipped a tight pass into the lane where the center was backing into position.
Taking the lightning pass, Andy threw an elbow out to clear a path to the basket. The referee, shielded from the play, didn’t observe the foul. Two points!
The star center of the Tornado squad, rubbing his cheek where the painful blow had landed, came back down the floor, his eyes blazing. Without even waiting for the ball, he headed toward Andy. With a hard shove, he backed into position and motioned angrily for the ball.
“No way, chump!” the Panthers’ center grunted heavily, giving the opposing player a healthy push out of the key.
The whistle blared. “Foul!” The stripe-shirted referee pointed at Andy.
“He pushed me first!” Wild-eyed, out of control, Andy swung out at the taller boy. A roar went up from the home crowd.
Instantly a melee erupted as players from both benches bounded onto the floor. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” The eager chant went up from the stands.
Bucky, standing near the sideline, watched in horror as the confused pileup grew in front of him. Dan, somewhere near the center of the pack, landed vicious blows on one of the Tornado players. The two referees, surrounded by the raging players, tried helplessly to pull them apart.
Hesitating for a moment, Bucky turned and walked away from the fight. Dozens of eyes followed him as he made his way to the Panthers’ row of chairs along the edge of the court.
Coach Brayshaw stared at him, measuring the quiet, calm strength in the midst of the grappling bodies.
Chapter Eleven: Invited to the Tournament!
Holding an ice pack to his left eye, Dan slumped over in the bus seat. “Stupid miserable game,” he growled, fatigued rage still in his voice.
Bucky shook his head in frustration. “Boy, they creamed us,” he muttered. “Ten points in those last two minutes.”
In spite of his injuries, Dan began to laugh. “Man, that center ran right over you a couple of times.”
“Hey, I’m not tall enough to play center. After Gorton fouled out, though, we didn’t have any choice.”
Both boys glanced up to the front of the bus where Coach Brayshaw sat alone, gazing in frustration through the rain-soaked windshield. “Poor Coach probably thought we were gonna go sixteen and zero this season,” Dan whispered. Pulling the ice pack away, he turned toward Bucky. “How’s it look?”
“What’s black and blue and red all over?”
The forward groaned. “Where were you anyway during the fight? I could have used some backup.”
Bucky did not reply immediately. “Before the season began, I decided I wouldn’t get involved in that garbage,” he said at last.
“How come?”
His seatmate glanced in the coach’s direction again. Brayshaw was answering a player’s question, shaking his head and muttering something Bucky couldn’t hear. Finally Bucky said, “Well, I just don’t think it ever solves anything, number one. And plus, I want to honor God on the court during every game. I can’t do that if I get into fights.”
Dan was silent for a few seconds. “Man, there’s more to this business of being a Christian than I ever thought.”
The next Monday at practice Coach Brayshaw gave the squad a brief pep talk. “You showed good spirit out there last week.” His gaze fell on Bucky for a moment. “Except for those last two minutes where we didn’t have Gorton, you hung in there close the whole way.”
Chris, the squad’s sharpshooting little guard, raised his hand. “How come the refs just let those guys hammer away at us like that?”
The coach pondered for a moment before responding. “You’re right,” he conceded. “I didn’t think the reffing was too jet hot myself.” He forced a grin, then sobered quickly. “But I’ll tell you boys something: those Tornadoes played us real smart.” He paused for emphasis. “They knew if they could get Andy, here, mad at ‘em, he’d foul out. Soon as that happened, they had us.”
A stir rippled among the team.
“I don’t mind you standing up for yourselves on the court,” the athletic director went on. “And pitching in if there’s an altercation of any kind.” Again his eyes fell on Bucky for the tiniest fraction of a second. “But don’t get suckered into a situation where we come out losers as a result.” He looked directly at his star center. “Andy, if you’d stayed in that game right to the end, I think we just might have pulled it out.”
His face sober, the lanky athlete nodded.
“OK, that’s it. Let’s win a few!”
And the Panthers JV squad did indeed go out and begin to win. Four contests in a row went Hampton High’s way, as the starting five began to jell as a playing unit. Dan and Bucky keyed rally after rally, running smooth two-man plays and dishing off timely assists to Andy at center and to Chris, whose twenty-foot bombs were dropping regularly.
“It’s starting
to be a familiar refrain,” began a newspaper commentary by Big Max, Hampton Beach’s regular sports reporter. “Remember last year’s hit tune – ‘Litton and Stone’? This athletic superduo has sparked the Panthers JV team to a 5-1 record so far, good for a first place tie and a ticket to January’s Northern California Invitational in Reno!”
“Not bad!” Dad grinned, putting down the paper. His feet were propped up close to the roaring fire in the fireplace. Bucky, relaxing from his studies and the hectic two - a - week basketball schedule, enjoyed the Christmas holidays and Dad’s teasing praise . . . though the holidays did seem more lonely with Lisa gone. Her busy schedule at her new school had kept her from e-mailing as often as she had done earlier during the fall.
“How come they never mention the parents of these high school superstars?” Dad interrupted his thoughts of Lisa.
His son pretended to be embarrassed.
“How long is the team up there for the tourney?” Mr. Stone continued.
“Three days. Kind of a round-robin thing, I guess. They aren’t part of the regular schedule, so they don’t count in the standings.”
Bucky’s father looked over at him with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, when you get into the NBA, I just hope you’ll remember your poor struggling parents and buy your mom and me a nice house like that player for the Warriors just did.”
• • • • •
The bus tires hummed on Interstate 80 as the Panthers headed north for the tournament. Bucky and Dan sat toward the back, discussing a new trick play the latter was hatching up.
“That’ll never work,” Bucky interjected. “You might fake your own man out, but the center always comes out on a play like that. Every time.”
“I don’t think so,” Dan responded. “Even if he does, Andy can screen him out.”
“Well, we’ll try it in practice.” Bucky resumed a quick text message he was sending off to Lisa.
Two hours later the big diesel bus pulled into a motel parking lot on the outskirts of town. “Here we are, gents,” Coach Brayshaw announced. “Real luxury.” He laughed. “Four to a room.”
“What?” Andy’s six-foot-five frame blocked the aisle. “No way!”
“Just kidding.” Brayshaw was in a jovial mood. “Two per room, standard arrangement.”
Bucky sighed in relief. “Just you and me, my man,” he muttered.
“We got about forty-five minutes before practice,” the coach announced. “Get settled in, then we’ll run over for a quick session and some supper. First game’s tomorrow.”
Dan and Bucky surveyed the smallish motel room with disdain. “Well, I guess we can each have a bed . . . and sleep diagonally,” Dan laughed. “Come on, let’s have a look at Chris’ room.”
The next afternoon the Panthers were easy winners in their first round of play. Bucky’s assists sparked the team to forty-seven first-half points, and he even managed to drop a fifteen-foot jump shot of his own.
“The man can even shoot!” Dan grinned. “Way to can that one!”
Coach Brayshaw had nothing but words of praise for the team after the contest. “Beautiful teamwork!” he emphasized again and again. “You men are clicking together!” He gave Bucky a little nod of appreciation.
The long shower and team supper were pleasant rewards for the grueling afternoon of play. Bucky went back for seconds from the long buffet table.
“Well, what’s up for tonight?” he asked Dan later.
His friend grimaced. “Well, Coach has us out here five miles from town, so we can’t get into any trouble.” He shrugged. “Watch TV, I guess.”
The pair was engrossed in a program on the motel room’s dilapidated set when someone knocked on the door. “Hey, come on in, Gorton,” Bucky invited. “What’s up?”
The center sank down on Dan’s bed. “Oh, I just needed to get out,” he said evasively.
Dan raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Randolph doesn’t take showers?”
“Nah.” Andy shook his head. “It’s just that, well . . .”
“What?” Bucky prodded.
After a strained silence, Andy said, “Well, don’t tell nobody, but the guy’s in there snortin’ coke.”
“What?” Bucky couldn’t hide his surprise.
The tall center raised both hands. “Swear to God,” he murmured. “Man, I had no idea.”
Dan leaned forward. “This his first time?”
“No way.” Andy looked at one, then the other. “I guess he uses it all the time. Says he can handle it.”
“Oh, man,” Bucky breathed. “This is bad!”
“You’re tellin’ me,” Andy retorted. “I’m in there rooming with the guy.” He shook his head. “I mean, those naked-lady magazines are no big deal. I can handle that.” For a moment a hint of a smile crossed his face. “But coke? No way, baby.”
“Somebody’s got to tell the coach,” Bucky interjected suddenly.
Andy bolted upright. “No!” He looked over at him. “You promised, man.”
“I did not. And anyway, this is serious. That guy could kill himself.”
There was an awkward moment, as all three players recalled how Bucky had felt obliged to inform the coaching staff of Dan’s policy violations. “Yeah, seems like we got no choice,” Dan admitted at last. “He’s breaking the rules, and we’ve got to lay it on Brayshaw.”
“No way,” Andy protested. “The rules don’t say that. It’s only for cheating that we rat on somebody. Not booze and stuff like that.”
“That makes no sense,” Bucky piped up. “I mean, even though cheating is wrong – ” he glanced over at Dan, wincing a bit – “at least nobody was getting hurt. But if Randolph is involved in cocaine, he could really hurt himself.”
Finally, after several minutes of heated exchange, everyone agreed that Bucky had better tell Brayshaw about it. “Go do what you gotta do,” Dan said at last.
A few minutes later Bucky was back, his face grim. “What happened?” Andy wanted to know.
Bucky shook his head. “He didn’t want to hear about it, that’s for sure,” he explained, his voice miserable. “But I laid it on him.” He grimaced. “He’s starting to dread running into me anywhere. All I ever do is lay bad news on the guy.”
“Never mind that,” Dan put in. “What’d he say?”
There was a short silence. “Said he’d deal with it when we got home.”
The chunky forward nodded. “Guess that makes sense.” He looked over at Andy. “‘Fraid you’re stuck with it.”
The next day the Panthers won a closely contested game after a frantic rally in the last two minutes. Despite his activities of the night before, Chris was in deadly shooting form, especially in the second half. Out of twelve attempts made, ten found their mark for points, including a three-pointer to tie the game in the closing moments.
“Terrific, terrific, terrific!” Coach Brayshaw gave the little guard a healthy clap on the shoulder. “Keep up those beautiful bombs!” He looked over at Bucky with a quizzical expression.
Again that evening Andy slipped over to his friends’ room after supper. “Same problem?” Dan wanted to know.
“I guess.” The center was glum. “He just announced, ‘Well, I guess I deserve another party.’ So I took off.”
Bucky paced the room in frustration. “This is serious! Here we are, tryin’ to sweep the tourney, and Chris is gonna blow it.”
Dan shrugged. “Well, he was sure hot today,” he commented reluctantly.
Andy sat down heavily on the bed. “Well, it’s his problem,” he sighed. Then he brightened. “How ‘bout riding into town? See the lights, maybe invest a few quarters in a slot machine?” He looked at the other two boys. “We could split a cab.”
Bucky shook his head. “Forget it. Coach said, ‘Stay put.’”
“Oh, he wouldn’t :care,” Andy retorted. “We’d just go for a little while.” He fumbled in his pocket. “Blast it. Forgot my room key. I better go get it.”
After
disappearing down the hallway, he returned a few moments later, a strange expression on his face.
“What’s the matter?” Dan asked.
“Chris doesn’t answer when I knock.”
“What do you mean? Let’s go see.”
The three of them crowded in front of the door of Andy and Chris’ room as Dan pounded on it. No response. “Sure he didn’t go anywhere after you left?” Dan asked as he tried the door knob. The lock hadn’t caught shut and the door jerked open as Dan pushed on it, only to be caught by the night guard chain. He looked questioningly at Bucky and Andy. “Randolph? You OK?”
Still no response. Bucky tried knocking now. “Chris, open up! It’s just us.”
“What’s the matter with him?” Andy asked.
Bucky turned around slowly. “I don’t know. Something’s wrong.” A sudden look of fear flashed across Andy’s face.
Dan took a quick breath. “I think you’re right,” he blurted. “Something must be wrong.” He pounded on the door. “Randolph! Open up!” He looked around at the others. “Maybe if we all hit the door together, we can break that chain loose.”
“What?”
“Just do it!” Dan counted to three, and they slammed their shoulders again the flimsy door. The chain ripped loose from the door. Looking inside, Bucky gasped.
Chapter Twelve: Funeral For a Friend
Dan knelt beside the still form lying on the floor. “Chris! Chris!” His breath coming in short, anxious gasps, he leaned over and felt along the boy’s jawbone for a pulse. His body sagged. “Oh my God!” he groaned, tears springing to his eyes.
“What?” Andy bent over the bed to see. “Is he . . . ”
Dan began to shake violently. “Call an ambulance,” he said weakly, his voice flat.
“But . . .”
“Call an ambulance, man!” Tears welling up in his eyes, Dan climbed to his feet. “And get Coach in here.”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 30