The final buzzer sounded, its echo mingling with the shouts of the Hampton crowd. The PA announcer’s voice filled the gymnasium. “Ladies and gentlemen, the final score tonight . . .”
Suddenly Bucky began to tremble and slowly slipped to his knees near center court. Standing on the sidelines, Dan and Coach Brayshaw stood awestruck as the rest of the ballplayers, Panthers and Tornadoes alike, watched the quiet moment of prayer. Many of the whooping fans celebrating in the stands paused as well.
God . . . Suddenly there were no words, just a spiritual outpouring of praise. Bucky rose to his feet and raised both hands in the air, pointing heavenward. Applause began to build as it rocked through the Hampton High gymnasium.
Dan came over to him, an incredulous look on his face. For a long moment they stood facing each other. Slowly Dan reached out and clenched his teammate’s hand, then suddenly clasped the younger player in an embrace.
“You did it, man.” Over and over Dan repeated it. “God really helped you do it.”
“Yeah.” At the moment it was almost hard to speak. He wanted to pour out his heart, to find words for the thankfulness he felt for his heavenly Father. But the words wouldn’t come. Pulling himself free, he lifted his right hand again, pointing toward the ceiling. Dan did the same.
Another burst of applause roared through the gymnasium. Camera shutters clicked as news reporters from all around the Bay Area captured the two high school athletes thanking God.
Bucky’s heart was still pounding as media men and women gathered around in the home locker room to finish off their late - edition reports. He flashed a tired grin at Dan, then leaned over to give Andy Gorton another high five for the cameras. “For a little white guy you didn’t do too bad there at the end,” the tall center muttered with a grin.
“Bucky, that was probably the greatest five minutes of varsity ball I’ve ever seen,” “Big Max,” the hometown sportswriter shouted above the noise. “What was going through your mind?”
Bucky thought for a moment. “Well, we were down by seven, so I guess I was trying to think how we could get eight somehow.” Everybody laughed.
“You ever get that hot feeling before?”
“Not as good as that one.” The news people laughed again.
Several of the out - of - town reporters asked questions of Bucky and his teammates. Then a familiar voice rang out. “Bucky, this whole town watched you and Litton out there on center court right after the game. There’s something special about Litton and Stone, and I wonder if you could tell these folks about it.” In the glare of the TV lights, Bucky recognized Oliver Bendall, the friendly reporter who had written about the young athlete’s faith the previous year.
“I’d like to answer that question if you’ll let me.” It was Coach Brayshaw who had interrupted. The reporters pushed their microphones in his direction.
“Most of you folks are also covering another story that broke tonight,” the coach said slowly. “This year’s basketball season almost came to a tragic end this evening. Thank God things turned out differently.”
The athletic director flashed a look at Bucky and Dan before continuing. “I’ve got a whole team that I’m proud of, but Litton and Stone . . . there’s something different there. Our own reporters know it, but the rest of you need to hear about it too.” He took a breath. “These two young men are probably the finest champion players I’ve ever coached, and it’s because of their relationship with God. They’re both Christians.” Silence filled the steamy locker room.
For a moment Brayshaw almost chuckled, remembering last year. “There was a time when I thought that was a problem for me. I figured these guys on the God Squad wouldn’t have the requisite fire in the belly, that they’d lose every other game and figure it was God’s will. Something like that. But this year, with the point - shaving scandal and everything, it was Litton and Stone that I could go to. ‘Cause I knew they had a hundred percent integrity. Now, they could tell you . . . but it means more coming from me. It’s their faith in God that makes them what they are.” He forced a smile. “And you saw on the court what it did for us all.”
It took another half hour before Bucky had finished answering the rest of the reporters’ questions. Several inquired about his spiritual beliefs and about the conflicts of being a Christian on a high school campus. Still in his damp uniform of victory, he patiently responded to their queries. Dan, seated next to him, interjected once or twice and made a humorous point of spelling “L-I-T-T-O-N” in a loud voice for anyone who cared to write it down.
It was after 11:00 before the two, showered and dressed at last, emerged from the athletic complex. In the distance Bucky could see Dad, Mom, and Rachel Marie waving toward him.
“Well, pretty good game, Dan,” Bucky grinned, giving the stocky forward a little sock on the arm.
“Yeah, not bad.” Dan returned the friendly blow with a gentle nudge of his own. “Especially after your close shave earlier. That was a hot five minutes at the end.” He laughed. “Remember, you’re not really that good, Stone. That was a Higher Power at work, and you know it.”
“Tell me about it.”
Suddenly Dan stopped and turned to face his teammate. “You know, Stone,” he said, his voice husky. “I gotta tell you something.”
Bucky waited expectantly. By the soft glow of a nearby street lamp, he could see Deirdre approaching.
“I really want to . . . get things back together with God. Better, I mean.” Dan paused. “Like it is for you. You know?”
The younger boy nodded. “Sure.”
“Whatever it takes.” Dan added the last three words with a somber look in his eyes. “I really mean it.”
Bucky nodded again without speaking.
“Do you think maybe we could just . . . pray again?” The question was barely a whisper. Just then Deirdre came into view, her slim figure partially in shadow. But Dan didn’t hesitate.
“OK.” The two athletes bowed their heads. Deirdre paused, watching as Dan prayed.
• • • • •
Bucky Stone Book #7
Bucky Gets Busted
By
David B. Smith
Contents
Chapter One: Making the Varsity Squad
Chapter Two: Target Practice
Chapter Three: Baseball Weekend
Chapter Four: Off to a Hot Start
Chapter Five: Surprise Companions
Chapter Six: Pit Stop
Chapter Seven: A Gun in the Glove Box
Chapter Eight: Chase!
Chapter Nine: Hiding Out in the Parking Lot
Chapter Ten: Midnight Prayers
Chapter Eleven: Busted
Chapter Twelve: A Decent Reputation
Chapter Thirteen: Just the Three of Us
Chapter Fourteen: Endings and Beginnings
Chapter One: Making the Varsity Squad
The chlorinated water of the community pool still had a trace of chill to it as an unexpected spray landed on Bucky. “Hey!” He raised up in mock protest at the little boy who had accidentally created the splash.
“Lighten up.” Dan laughed as he moved his towel away from the damp spot. “Man, that sun feels good.”
The warm March weather seemed to melt away the tensions of the just - completed basketball season as the two enjoyed a leisurely Sunday afternoon. Several high school girls eyed the young men as they trooped past on their way to the snack bar.
“You seen anything of Deirdre this weekend?”
Dan shook his head with a frown. “Well, I guess we’re broken up. Kind of.”
“What do you mean, ‘kind of?”
The stocky youth shrugged. “I dunno. We talked some about, you know, church and stuff. And she said, ‘Well, I sure heard all of that before.’ So I kind of dropped it.”
Bucky shifted his towel to take advantage of the shifting shade patterns next to the huge pool. “That’s tough, man. She’s . . .” His voice trailed off as he remembered back to the
ir sophomore year and his own special moments with the ice - blond girl. Despite the difficulty in dating a girl who had vehemently announced her disinterest in Christianity, Deirdre was “one heart - stopping babe,” as both of them knew.
Standing, Dan stretched with a groan. “Gonna go in again?”
“Nah. I’m all warm now.”
His friend scanned the girls around the pool. “Yeah, guess I’ll call it a day too.” He motioned toward the locker room. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Out in the parking lot they paused by Dan’s blue sports car. “Baseball next week,” the older boy reminded.
“Yeah.” Bucky grinned. Despite the painful ending to the season two years ago and last year’s broken arm, even the mention of baseball always brought a shiver of excitement. “I know you’re sick of hearing it – but do you think we got a shot at varsity?”
Dan laughed. “Man, Stone, you’re always thinkin’ about the big time!”
“Well, do we?”
A shrug. “I don’t know. Two years in a row we’ve cheesed it. Brayshaw’s gettin’ desperate to win something in baseball.” He looked directly at his friend. “‘Course, last year you didn’t even play. With your busted arm. That ain’t gonna help when it comes time to make up the varsity roster.”
Bucky nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” He reached in his pocket for the keys to his white Toyota. “We’ll see what happens.”
“OK. See you.” Dan rumbled his way out of the parking lot, squealing his tires as usual.
Monday at school marked a switch in Bucky’s chemistry lab assignment as he adjusted his schedule for the final quarter. “At least juniors get first pick,” he muttered to himself as he made his way into the large science building and found his table.
Already two other students were setting up the afternoon project. “You Stone?” The boy, a stocky student with reddish - brown hair, wore a protective apron with a huge rip in the front. A big green Oakland A’s logo poked its way through the tear.
“Yeah.” Bucky pulled on a second apron and tied it behind him. “What are we working on?”
“Aaaah, the usual exciting stuff.” The boy nodded to the girl standing next to him. “Tracy, here, has the experiment slip.”
Bucky had to smile in spite of himself as he glanced at the girl. She looked to be all of four foot eleven and had the reddest hair he’d ever seen.
She looked up at him. “What’s so funny?”
He gulped. “Nothing. I guess I . . .”
The other boy snickered. “He’s just staring because he ain’t never seen a fourth-grader trying to pass herself off as a junior in high school.”
“Ha ha.” She gave him a withering look. “You’re so smart, Jonathan, why don’t you tally up my results and do all the math for us?”
Jonathan reached over and patted the girl on the head. “Don’t mind her,” he advised Bucky. “Just because she’s doing an honors project for the state competition, she thinks she can boss ordinary boys like us around. We’ll be lucky if she lets us hold her spare calculator batteries for her.”
As the afternoon session proceeded, Bucky had to acknowledge that Jonathan was at least half right. Tracy was smart! All during the experiment she kept up a steady stream of scientific observations that weren’t even in the chem manual. It was the kind of mental display a guy would shrug off if it weren’t for the little witticisms that punctuated every other sentence. At the conclusion of the project she wrote up the findings, along with two alternate interpretations that neither boy had noticed. Her handwriting had a precise femininity to it, but she signed off at the bottom with a flourish.
“So, are you going to play ball this spring?” Tracy peeled off her white apron and stacked up a formidable pile of books. She gave him a mischievous look.
“I, uh . . .” Bucky still felt unnerved by the redhead’s intellect and personality. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Jonathan and I’ll come out and watch you sometime.” She gave her bubbly little laugh. “See if your batting average is a little better than your GPA.”
“Hey, who said I didn’t have a decent GPA?” Bucky pretended to scowl.
Jonathan draped an arm around him. “Face it, pal, no matter what it is, it’s a ways down the ladder from Miss Genius here.” He pretended to sniff at Tracy. “It doesn’t take a laptop computer to figure out her 4.0.”
“Are you kidding? A four point?”
Tracy shrugged. “So far.”
Bucky drove over to the bank still thinking about the exchange. Ever since beginning school at Hampton Beach High, good grades had come easily for him. But he had to admit that Tracy’s 4.0 had rattled him.
The two-hour shift at First California Bank went smoothly. Careful to read all the employee update bulletins, Bucky rarely found himself stymied by a new banking procedure. Twice during the afternoon session he pointed out mistakes to the new girl training at window four.
It was just starting to get dark when he went out to the parking lot. To his surprise Dan was waiting for him. “What’s up, my man?”
Dan pulled out a tattered sheet of paper. “Check this out.”
The younger student squinted to make it out. “What is it?”
“Baseball schedule.” Dan kicked at a rock. “Varsity and JV.”
Bucky scanned the row of dates. “So, for the last time, are we gonna get on the varsity squad, Litton?”
The stocky athlete grinned. “Well, if this prayer business works at all, I guess we will.” A short laugh. “I mean, you been talkin’ to Jesus about it for the past ten months, Stone.”
“Yeah.” Bucky tingled, remembering the excitement of his freshman year, and his game-winning hit in a playoff contest. “Man, I can’t wait to get out there.”
“‘Course, it wouldn’t kill us to just be on JV,” Dan said.
“I know. But man, it’d be awesome to play for the Panthers on the big team for both seasons.”
“Tell me about it.” Dan folded up the piece of paper and shoved it back into his pocket. “Man, I’d give anything to make varsity. With you too, of course. I really got my heart set on playing ball.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “And last year . . . when you didn’t play, it wasn’t as much fun.”
“Well, let’s just see how tryouts go. And what Coach has to say.”
That evening he and Dad discussed the upcoming baseball season as they dug a trench line in the backyard for an additional sprinkler head. Daylight Savings Time was still two weeks away, but a huge floodlight bathed the grass in a twilight glow as they tugged at dirt clods and stray tree roots.
“Hampton’s a big school,” Dad observed as he tossed another shovelful of dirt to the side. Flecks of wet soil stuck to his forearms as he paused for a breather. “It’d take a bit of luck for both you and Dan to get on the varsity squad.”
“I know.” Bucky grimaced. “And they’ve got some pretty good hitters. I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”
Dad dropped to his knees and pulled at a twisted root. “Well, it’s like everything else in life. You prepare and you do all that’s in your power to improve your chances. Then you simply wait and see if it happens.
“Yeah.”
Mr. Stone looked at his son, affection written on his face. “Your mom and I are sure proud of you. You’ve performed beyond anything I could have asked for as a dad, and, man, you deserve all the best in life.” He climbed to his feet. “You’ve done real good, Buck.”
A lump came into the boy’s throat. “Thanks.”
The older man picked up the shovel. “Let’s finish this later. Gettin’ too dark out here.”
The next day Bucky and Dan headed out to the baseball diamond where a large contingent of juniors and seniors were circling around, some of them tossing baseballs lazily back and forth. Bucky felt the old familiar tingle of excited anticipation. Please, Jesus!
Coach Brayshaw cocked his head in the direction of the two arriving athletes. “Good to see you, gents,�
� he grinned. “Best of luck out there.”
The athletic director and his two assistants quickly organized the players into groups so that they could evaluate their hitting and fielding prowess. Dan and Bucky took their places in the outfield and spent a tense forty-five minutes shagging fly balls and wicked line drives. Dan, in particular, still had his natural instincts, and seemed to scoot easily across the vast expanse of grass in order to pick off what would otherwise be extra-base hits.
“Good grab, Litton,” Bucky grunted as the perspiring fielder dove for a screamer and snagged it just off his shoetops. For a moment he fretted to himself. Nothing very spectacular had been hit in his direction all afternoon. Would Coach end up with a vague but erroneous impression of mediocrity?
“Time to do some serious hitting, sonny,” the older player teased as they made their way toward the batting cages. Perched against the metal frame, Coach Brayshaw and his ever-present clipboard was jotting down brief notes to himself as various hitters shuttled in and out of the batter’s box, tossing their helmets in the grass after facing an obligatory twenty pitches.
Ten minutes later, Bucky trudged toward the locker area with a distinct feeling of disquiet. Dan had been hot at the plate, popping several “ropes” into the power alleys for sure doubles; one shot cleared the fence by a good thirty feet. But Bucky had only managed a pair of harmless singles through the infield, and didn’t seem to have any timing at all on the pitcher’s offspeed offerings.
“Man, I didn’t have it at all today,” he lamented, as he and Dan peeled off their jerseys. “Coach is gonna send me down to the frosh squad.”
Dan shrugged. “No way.” He peered in the mirror and dabbed at some mud on his chin. “I mean, maybe not varsity, but you’ll be on the team at least. Coach knows you can hit.”
“Yeah, but . . .” His shoulders sagged as he picked up his duffel bag. “That’d be bad if you were on varsity and I didn’t make it. ‘Cause you’re my man, Litton.” He tried to force a tone of joviality into his voice, but all at once, the locker area seemed bathed in sinister shadows.
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 63