4
The plays continued to work well for the remainder of the first half. When the buzzer sounded for the break, the score stood at Tornadoes 20, Jets 12.
Coach Valenti clapped his hands. “Good playing out there, boys. Now you five take a rest and we’ll give some other Tornadoes a chance to show what they can do. Cal, you go in at center. Roger and Warren, go in for Mick and Terrell at forward. Brandon and Anthony will be our guards. Anthony, we have possession so you inbound the ball.”
Julian hated being taken out of games. But he understood—and agreed with—the league rule that stated all players must be given court time every game. After all, players who rode the bench would never improve. They would never feel like members of the team, either, unless they took an active part in each win and every loss.
Still, watching the action from the sidelines wasn’t nearly as much fun as being in the thick of it!
As it turned out, however, he didn’t get back into the thick of it that quarter. The Jets struggled against the substitutes just as they had against the starters. When the buzzer sounded, ending the third quarter, the score had jumped from 20–12 to 28–18 in favor of the Tornadoes!
The mood on the Tornadoes’ bench was upbeat. Coach Valenti praised them for their efforts but also reminded them that they still had a quarter yet to play. “Bring the same energy to the court for the last minutes and you’ll do great!”
Julian and the others shouted in unison. Then Julian hurried to the fountain to refill his water bottle. As he did, Cal appeared at his side.
“Julian, I was wondering, after the game… could you give me some advice on how to play center? You know, since it looks like I’ll be in the starting slot after today.”
Julian blinked. Until that moment, he hadn’t thought about Cal taking the opening tip-off and running plays like the two-one in his place. A sudden surge of jealousy coursed through him.
But it disappeared just as quickly as it came. After all, Cal worked hard. He deserved his shot at starting center—in fact, if Julian hadn’t been on the team, chances were Cal would already be the starter.
“You don’t need any advice from me,” Julian said. “You’re doing great out there! You’ve scored what, seven points already this game? Heck, I should be asking you for pointers!”
But when he tried to walk past Cal, the other boy moved in front of him. “No, seriously, I, uh, I’d really like to hear your thoughts on playing center.”
Julian frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t have any thoughts, Cal. I just practice the plays so I’m ready to use them in games.”
“Practice the plays, huh? Interesting.” Cal nodded vigorously. “Tell me more!”
“Tell you more?” Now Julian was totally confused. “There’s nothing to tell! After all, you do the same plays I do every practice. You take the same shots. You—Hello? Cal? Are you even listening to me?”
Cal had been looking intently at Julian. But all of a sudden, his gaze shifted to a spot over Julian’s left shoulder. He gave a slight nod.
“What are you looking at?” Julian asked, turning around. Behind him, Coach Valenti, Grady, Len, and several other players were huddled together. He looked back at Cal. “What’s going on?”
Cal widened his eyes, giving him a look of innocence. “What makes you think something’s going on? Unless you mean the game? Yep, seems like that’s about to go on in a sec! Come on!”
Cal pushed past Julian to join the others. After a moment, Julian followed. He was certain Cal’s nod had been in reply to some signal. But what? Who had given it? And why? There was no time to ask any of those questions, however, because he and the other starters had to get on the floor.
The Jets had possession. Their stocky point guard took the ball out-of-bounds at the mid-court line and waited for the referee’s whistle.
Tweet!
The guard bounced the ball to a teammate and then took the return pass. He dribbled carefully toward the key. His eyes darted to and fro as he searched for an open man.
Suddenly, he stopped and slapped the ball. An instant later, the tall Jets center took an angled step backward toward the baseline. Julian mirrored him, certain his man was trying to squeeze around him.
He was wrong! That step was a fake—and it had worked perfectly! Julian whirled around in time to see the center dash into the key, nab a high-flying pass, and lay the ball into the net for two points.
Julian trotted down the court, shaking his head at his mistake. Then he grinned inwardly. Since this is a game of “last times,” he thought, guess I’ll just have that be the last time I fall for that stagger-step!
He didn’t get faked out again that way, but there were other moments in the game where the Jets fooled him, and other Tornadoes, too. Still, their opponents’ efforts weren’t enough to push them ahead of the Tornadoes. When the game ended, the final score was Tornadoes 42, Jets 29.
Julian joined his teammates for the traditional hand-slap, good-game exchange with the Jets. Then he turned to go back to the bench. But he’d only gone a single step when Coach Valenti barked out his name.
“Julian Pryce! Where do you think you’re going? I don’t remember telling you to leave the court!”
5
Julian was startled by the stern tone in his coach’s voice. “I’m sorry, sir,” he started to stammer. But the words died on his lips when he turned around to face the coach.
Because it wasn’t just the coach standing there, it was the entire Tornado team! Coach Valenti and Cal held a banner emblazoned with the words “GOOD LUCK, JULIAN! WE’LL MISS YOU!”
Grady was holding something too—a basketball, Julian saw. Then he looked closer and realized there was writing all over the ball.
“We all signed it,” Grady said. “That way, you’ll always remember who was on the best basketball team in the world.”
Julian took the ball and turned it slowly in his hands, reading the signatures. He swallowed hard. “Gosh, I don’t know what to say,” he murmured.
Then something struck him. He looked up. “Hang on. You guys didn’t know I was leaving until before the game. When did you do this?”
Cal gave him a sheepish look. “You know when I was asking you all those questions before the last quarter?”
Julian started laughing. “You were keeping me from seeing everyone sign it! Man, and I just thought you were getting all weird on me!”
The other boys laughed along with him. Then Julian thanked them all again for the ball and shook hands with the coach. “It’s been awesome playing for you, Coach Valenti. I hope…”
He was about to say that he hoped his new coach would be as good. But his throat suddenly had a lump in it that the words couldn’t get past.
The coach put a hand on Julian’s shoulder and said, “Any coach would be lucky to have you on his team.”
“Thank you, sir.” Julian balanced his autographed basketball on his fingertip and gave it a brisk spin. “For everything.”
Julian’s parents and sister appeared on the court just then.
“Good game, son,” Mr. Pryce said.
“Yeah, except for that time the tall kid caught you with your pants down, you looked pretty decent,” Megan added with a grin.
“Ha, ha,” Julian said, making a face at her.
“You must be hungry after all that running around,” Mrs. Pryce said. She looked around at the other players. “You all must be hungry. What do you say we head to Cutler’s Candy and Ice Cream Emporium for a victory celebration?”
“Really?” Julian loved Cutler’s, but was surprised to hear his mother offer to take them there. She wasn’t big on giving her kids lots of sweets.
“Sure. It’s our treat,” she said. “Go see who can join us, okay?”
Julian quickly made the rounds through the team. Everybody said they could go, so ten minutes later, the whole team showed up at the Emporium. When the owner, Mrs. Cutler, saw them, she opened a special party room at the back of the stor
e and ushered them in.
“That way, you can eat your ice cream and treats together,” she said. “Now come on up to the counter and tell me what you’d like.”
Choosing a treat was difficult for Julian. He loved Cutler’s peppermint ice cream, especially when it was covered with hot fudge and whipped cream, and topped with a cherry. But he also loved Cutler’s famous Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Drops—small balls of creamy peanut butter surrounded by layers of milk, white, and dark chocolate.
In the end, he chose the ice cream because that’s what everyone else was getting.
“I don’t suppose you deliver your candy, do you, Mrs. Cutler?” he asked, only half-joking. “Because I’m moving on Saturday and I don’t know when I’ll get your Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Drops again!”
With a smile, she reached into the display case and took out three drops. “These are on the house. Call ’em a good-bye present.”
Julian smiled and thanked her before popping one of the drops into his mouth.
“Good?” Mrs. Cutler inquired with raised eyebrows.
“Fantastic,” Julian said through a delicious mouthful of peanut butter and chocolate. “Thanks again!”
Mrs. Cutler nodded. Then she left to help another customer.
Julian headed into the back room and slid into a space next to Mick. “Hey, bro, what’d you get?” he asked. “I got a hot fudge sundae with peppermint ice cream.”
Mick sniffed the air, a confused look on his face. “Weird. Your peppermint smells a lot like peanut butter!”
Julian laughed and explained where the peanut butter smell was coming from. “She gave me three for free. Want one?” He held out a drop.
Mick waved it away. “Nah, I can get them any time. Thanks, though.”
Julian was about to eat the drop himself when a hand swooped in and snatched it away.
“Hey!” He spun around just in time to see Grady toss the candy into the air and catch it in his mouth.
“Mmmm, thanks!” the other boy said.
Julian jumped up and grabbed Grady in a choke hold from behind. “I’ll teach you to steal my candy!” he cried as he rubbed his knuckles though Grady’s hair.
“Okay! Okay! You want it back? Here!” Grady stuck out his tongue, showing everybody at the table the chocolate-peanut butter sludge on it.
“Gross!”
“Ewww!”
“Aw, man, you just ruined my appetite!”
The mock-disgusted shouts mixed in with Grady’s laughter. He laughed even harder when Julian started knuckling his hair again.
Then suddenly a new voice joined the chatter.
“Are you guys fighting again?”
Julian and Grady froze. Then as one, they cried, “Barry!”
Julian let go of Grady and hurried to his friend’s side. Barry was leaning on his crutches. His right leg was encased in a thick cast that had once been white but had turned a dull gray in the weeks he’d had it on. His left arm was wrapped in an Ace bandage. His face still bore yellowish bruises and scars from the auto accident.
“What are you doing here?” Julian asked as he helped Barry to a seat.
“Gee, thanks, nice to see you, too,” Barry replied sarcastically.
“You know what I mean!”
Barry grinned. “Yeah, I know. Your mom called my mom a few minutes ago.” He nodded toward the door, where Mrs. Pryce was talking with Mrs. Streeter. Then he narrowed his eyes and added, “Your mom’s been calling my mom a lot lately, actually. At first I figured she wanted to know how I was doing. Turns out, she was asking my mom for advice about selling your house!”
Julian’s face turned hot with embarrassment. “Um, yeah, I meant to tell you—”
“—that you’re moving on Saturday?” Barry cut in. “So I hear. But not from you!”
“I’m sorry, Barry. I should have told you,” Julian admitted. “But I’ve been sort of denying it myself, I guess. Moving away wasn’t my idea, after all!”
“Really?” Barry said. “It was such a lousy idea, I figured it had to be yours!”
Julian aimed a swing at Barry’s head. Barry ducked, laughing, and then called out, “Which one of you is going to get me some ice cream?”
“I’ll get it,” Grady said, hopping to his feet.
“Thanks. I’ll have—”
“—a double scoop of lemon sherbet with hot caramel and whipped cream,” Julian and Grady said together.
“How’d you know?” Barry asked.
Grady rolled his eyes. “You get the same disgusting combination every time,” he said. “Be right back.”
Be right back. See you in a few. I’ll be over soon. As of Saturday, Julian would no longer be saying any of those things to anyone here. Because he’d be moving away that day, to a town where he knew exactly no one.
6
The next three days were a flurry of activity for Julian. On Thursday, he cleaned out his desk and his locker and said good-bye to all his teachers and classmates. He didn’t go to school on Friday. Instead, he and his sister stayed home to help their mother pack up the last of their belongings.
“It’s weird being home when everyone else is in school,” Megan said as she taped up a box of books in the living room.
“Yeah, I feel like I should have a fever or something,” Julian agreed. He reached for a stack of CDs.
Megan glanced at their mother, who was talking on the phone, and then leaned toward Julian. “I don’t know about you,” she said in a low voice, “but I feel sick when I imagine walking into the new school our first day.”
Julian knew exactly what she meant. Every time he thought about being the new kid, his stomach somersaulted like an Olympic gymnast going for a gold medal.
Mrs. Pryce hung up the phone. “So,” she said brightly, “how are things going? Need any more packing supplies?”
“No,” both Julian and Megan replied.
“Okay, then!” Mrs. Pryce bent down to pick up the box of books Megan had just taped shut. But when she lifted it, the bottom flaps tore open. Books rained down on the floor below.
“Oh, no!” Megan cried. “I’m sorry, Mom! I guess I packed it too full.” She hurried over to clean up the mess.
Mrs. Pryce didn’t move. She just stood there, holding the broken box. Then finally she shook her head. “It’s okay, Megan, just leave it for now. Come on, you two, let’s go to the kitchen and have a snack and a chat.”
Julian and Megan followed their mother into the kitchen. Much of that room had already been packed, but Mrs. Pryce found a stack of paper plates and some cups. She put cookies on one plate and filled three cups with lemonade. That was the snack—but the chat didn’t come as quickly. Instead, the only sounds in the kitchen were the crunch of cookie and the slurp of lemonade.
Finally, Mrs. Pryce said, “I know this move is tough on you guys. Believe me, if there was any way we could stay here, we would. But we can’t. Dad’s new job is just too far away. If we didn’t move, he’d be on the road for more than three hours each day. And that’s three hours he wouldn’t have to spend with us.”
Julian was about to say that he understood when there was a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” he said.
When he opened the door he was surprised to find Barry and Mrs. Streeter on the other side. He stepped aside to let them in. “What’re you doing here?” he asked Barry. “School doesn’t get out for another two hours!”
“I had a doctor’s appointment after lunch,” Barry replied. “I convinced Mom to bring me here instead of back to school.” He grinned. “Getting my way has been the only good thing about this accident!”
“I heard that!” Mrs. Streeter called.
“Come on, let’s go to my room,” Julian said. Then he looked at Barry’s crutches. “If you think you can handle the stairs, that is.”
“No sweat,” Barry said confidently. “How do you think I get to my own room every night?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Julian admitt
ed.
“Yeah, that’s you all over—thoughtless!”
“Ha, ha,” Julian said. “At least let me take your backpack.”
“Nah, I can handle it.” As if to prove his point, Barry swung forward on his crutches, making his way out of the kitchen and into the living room where he maneuvered deftly through the boxes and around the spilled books. Then he hopped up the stairs.
“At least your room hasn’t changed,” Barry said as he flopped down onto Julian’s bed. “Still filled with mementos from last season, huh?” His voice sounded wistful.
“And one thing from this season, too,” Julian said, pointing to the autographed basketball. Then he took a framed photograph of the previous year’s Tornadoes team from the wall and handed it to Barry. “There we all are, in our glory!”
Barry studied the photo for a moment and then put it aside. “You ever hear from Max? Or Art or Danny?”
Julian shook his head. “Do you?”
“Max, no. I see Art and Danny sometimes. But now that they’re in high school, well, you know…” He shrugged. “I sure hope you’re better at staying in touch than they are.”
Julian smiled. “You’ll be hearing from me so often, it’ll be like I’m still here!”
Barry gave a little laugh. “If only!”
They were silent for a moment. Then Barry removed his backpack and opened it. “Got something for you,” he said. He pulled out a wrapped box and handed it to Julian.
“What is it?” Julian asked.
“Uh, duh, you’re supposed to open it and find out!”
Julian tore off the paper and threw it at Barry. Then he looked at the box. Cutler’s was stamped in huge chocolate brown letters across the top. A huge grin split Julian’s face. “You didn’t!”
Barry waggled his eyebrows. “Mick, Grady, and I pooled our money to get them for you.”
Julian lifted the box’s lid. Inside were at least a hundred Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Drops!
“Awesome!”
He reached in to take one. Barry slapped his hand away.
“Don’t eat them now!”
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