Hot Shot

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Hot Shot Page 7

by Matt Christopher


  He put the picture back and stared around his room. Suddenly, his eyes alighted on his duffel bag. When he did, something clicked in his brain.

  He had mistaken Paul’s duffel bag for his own. What if someone else had too?

  The pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. Barry had been at yesterday’s game. He had left the stands during halftime to do something secretive. Barry knew that Julian loved Cutler’s Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Drops. And Barry knew what Julian’s duffel bag looked like, because it was the same bag he’d had for years!

  What if Barry had slipped the box of candy into Paul’s bag, thinking the duffel belonged to Julian?

  Paul sat on his bag to keep me from taking it, Julian thought. He must have squashed the box. The box opened and some of the candy spilled out. Then the chocolate smeared all over his towel when he threw the bag over his shoulder!

  “That’s got to be what happened!” Julian cried. “And I know how to find out for sure!” He raced out of his room. “Megan! Megan!”

  Megan’s bedroom door opened. “What’re you shouting about?”

  “Did you help Barry put a box of Cutler’s candy in my duffel bag yesterday?”

  Megan grinned. “It’s about time you found it! I’ve been dying for some!”

  Julian let out a low whistle. “Dying is what almost happened, all right!”

  He told her everything he had figured out. Her eyes grew wide with horror. “Oh, my gosh! Come on, we have to tell Mom.”

  “And Coach Boyd,” Julian added grimly. It wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to.

  Fortunately, Mrs. Boyd and Mrs. Pryce were both present when Julian and Megan explained to Coach Boyd what had happened. That made it a little easier to get the words out.

  “So you see, sir, it was all just a terrible mistake,” Julian finished. “How—how is Paul doing?”

  Mrs. Boyd answered. “He’s going to be pretty worn out for the next few days. But he’ll be fine. He’s coming home in a little while, actually.”

  The coach cleared his throat. “His doctor advised him not to play basketball for a week,” he said gruffly. “I guess that means you’ll be taking his place until he’s ready to return.” He didn’t look pleased at the idea.

  Julian stared at his toes. “Um, yes, sir. Whatever you say.”

  “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow afternoon.”

  Julian nodded. Then he and his mother left.

  The phone was ringing when they returned to their house. Julian answered it.

  “Julian? It’s Alex. There’s something I want to know.”

  Julian gripped the receiver tightly. The suspicion in the other boy’s voice had come through loud and clear. He set about removing that suspicion as quickly as he could by telling him everything he’d just told the coach.

  Alex was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, he sounded relieved. “It all makes sense now! Man, when I realized that the name on the box was Cutler’s, not Culbert’s or Cutter’s…”

  “You had to have wondered if I had put it in Paul’s bag,” Julian finished.

  “It did cross my mind,” Alex admitted. “I even wondered if you’d come to the hospital room to see if your plan had worked. You know, the old ‘criminal returning to the scene of the crime’ kind of thing.”

  “Did you—you didn’t talk to anyone else about what you thought, did you?” Julian asked.

  “No. I wanted to talk to you first. And man, am I glad I did!”

  “Me too, especially since Coach Boyd is going to start me in the next game.”

  Alex whistled. “Can you imagine what the other Warriors would have thought if they believed you’d deliberately put Paul in the hospital? Yikes!”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t have lasted too long on the court, I don’t think!”

  “Are you kidding? I would have led the charge against you!” Alex said. “Instead, I plan to back you up all the way!”

  “Thanks, Alex. That means a lot.”

  And it did.

  20

  Julian arrived at basketball practice the next day ready to work hard. And he did just that. But he was careful about how he played too—no fancy moves, or tricks, or showboating of any kind. Nothing, in short, that would make his new teammates think he was trying to outshine them, or Paul.

  Julian wasn’t looking to be the team’s new star. He wasn’t after glory. He simply wanted to play. To his delight, that’s just what he got to do.

  Three days after Paul’s hospitalization, the Warriors faced the Ravens in a game on their home court. Paul was there, dressed in the team’s jersey, but not to play. He sat on the far end of the bench, as if unsure how he fit in.

  Julian nudged Alex when he saw that. “Make him take his usual spot, by his dad,” he whispered.

  “Why?” Alex whispered back.

  “Because I don’t want him or the coach to think I’m trying to take over his position,” Julian told him.

  Alex nodded. He went to talk to Paul. A moment later, the lanky center moved to sit near Coach Boyd.

  After the warm-ups, the two teams took to the court. Julian’s heart raced as he stood in the center circle for the tip-off. It had been more than three weeks since he’d been in this spot. What if he forgot what to do?

  He needn’t have worried. When the ref blew his whistle and tossed the ball high in the air, Julian leaped after it, just as he’d done countless times before. And, just as he’d done countless times before, he won the tip and sent the ball down on a line to Booker’s outstretched hands.

  Ten boys thundered down the court to take up their positions. The red-uniformed Warriors danced in and out of the key, looking for a pass from Booker. The Ravens, their black jerseys shimmering under the gym lights, followed the Warriors’ movements closely.

  But not closely enough. Zip! Booker shot a pass to Murdock. Murdock dribbled in and delivered a no-look side toss to Jackson. Jackson fake-pumped a shot and bounced the ball to Julian.

  Julian dribbled once, twice, the ball singing against the floor and stinging against his fingertips. Then he cupped it in his left hand, guided it up with his right, and tossed in a soft jump shot from four feet away.

  Fwing! The ball fell through the hoop for two points!

  Applause echoed around the gym. Julian barely registered it. He was too busy racing to get back on defense.

  Coach Boyd was testing out a one-three-one zone this game. Booker was in the point position, shadowing the ball carrier. Murdock, Jackson, and Will fanned out across the key. Julian took up the baseline slot, ready to join in for a double-team effort if a Raven threatened a shot from down low.

  The Ravens flew down the court. They passed once, twice. A forward dribbled in as if to shoot. Booker and Murdock leaped out together to cover him. The forward backed away and passed the ball off to his center. Now Julian and Murdock surged out. Julian waved his arms madly, hoping to fluster the Raven.

  Unfortunately, the Raven was as cool as a cucumber. He took a step back, shooting as he went. The ball arced like a rainbow and slid through the strings effortlessly.

  The shot was so beautiful that Julian nearly whistled out loud in admiration. This guy is the one to watch, he thought. And I’m the one to watch him!

  Watch him he did, like a hawk! When the Raven center cut to the middle of the key on his team’s next possession, Julian scurried to put himself in his way. When the center got the ball at the baseline, Julian rushed him, forcing him to hurry his shot. When the center drove to the hoop, Julian planted himself like a tree in his path and made him pull up short.

  But despite Julian’s best efforts, the Raven center racked up the points. Before the quarter was over, he had scored in the double digits!

  Coach Boyd called for a time out. “Double team the guy,” he told his players. “Triple team him if you have to! Just shut him down!”

  The Warriors tried to do as the coach instructed. But the Raven center was simply too good. If the
y pushed him away from the hoop, he lobbed a three-pointer. If they gave him the lane, he dished in a layup. He outsmarted their triple team too, for instead of shooting, he wormed a pass through their arms to his wide-open teammates.

  The Raven was just as commanding on defense too. He crashed the boards, ripping down rebounds. He stole the ball time and again. He even outjumped Julian, who was taller than he was by two inches, to slap down a shot!

  But the play of the game came seconds before the end of the third quarter. Julian was taking a much-needed break on the sidelines. The Warriors were passing the ball around the key, desperately trying to find an opening to the basket. Then suddenly—zoom! The center flashed forward, stole the ball, and started dribbling to the other end of the court.

  The Warriors and the other Ravens gave chase. But the center had a good five steps on all of them. He neared the hoop and then, amazingly, launched himself skyward and threw down a dunk just as the buzzer sounded!

  “Unbelievable!” Julian shouted, clapping madly and pacing the sideline. He knew he should be upset that the Warriors were losing. But astonishment over what he had just seen trumped any disappointment he had. “Man, I would give anything to play like that!”

  “Me too.”

  Julian hadn’t realized he was so close to Paul. He stared at the other boy in surprise.

  Was he hearing things—or had Paul just admitted that someone played better than he did?

  21

  Coach Boyd had heard Paul’s comment too, it turned out. “You do play like him!” he sputtered to his son. “If you only could be out there right now you’d—”

  “—be having just as much trouble stopping that guy as Julian is!”

  Julian heard the frustration in Paul’s voice. He edged away to give father and son some privacy. But he could still hear what they were saying to each other.

  Now Paul shook his head. “Dad, I know you think I’m a going to be a great player. Maybe I will be, someday. But you have to see that I’m nowhere near as good as that Raven is! I may never be!”

  “If you would just practice more, you would be,” Coach Boyd said.

  Paul let out a heavy sigh. “I practice plenty. In fact, I’d like to stop practicing so much.”

  “What?” Coach Boyd regarded his son with a look of disbelief. “Why?”

  Julian looked over at them then. He was curious about the answer to that question too. He caught Paul’s glance at Alex. Alex gave a small nod.

  Go on, that nod seemed to say, you can do it.

  “I had a lot of time to think while I was in the hospital. I realized I miss hanging out with my friends,” Paul said at last. “I’m only thirteen, Dad. I’m not even in high school! I—I’m just tired of training, I guess. I want some time to have fun too.”

  Coach Boyd didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he spun around and strode to the scorers table. “We’ll discuss this further when we get home,” he said. “Right now I have a game to win.”

  Paul looked toward Alex again. Alex shrugged. “You tried,” Julian saw him mouth. Paul nodded.

  The game continued and to no one’s surprise—except perhaps Coach Boyd’s—the Ravens trounced the Warriors; the final score was 55 to 42. Usually, such a sound defeat would have put Julian in a foul mood. But he knew he had tried his best, and believed the other Warriors had too. This time, the other team had just been better—plain and simple.

  His teammates seemed to feel the same way. Their chatter was subdued around the coach, but when they were all outside in the parking lot, they began joking around with one another. Julian joined in the fun. Then he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

  He turned to see Paul standing there.

  “You played a good game today,” the center said.

  “Thanks,” Julian replied. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. We need you on the court.”

  A slow smile spread across Paul’s face. “Oh, I know you do!” He chuckled at the look on Julian’s face. “Know what else? We need you on the court too. Maybe we even need both of us on at the same time. Yeah, that would’ve worked! If we had both teamed up against that dude today, we could have shut him down, no sweat!”

  Julian grinned. “Sure! Heck, I would have even let you get between him and the hoop on that dunk!”

  Paul held up his hand. “No, no! I wouldn’t have dreamed of taking the honor of being mowed down by that guy away from you! You deserved it!”

  The two boys burst out laughing.

  “Hey, what’s so funny?” Alex asked, coming over to them.

  Paul grabbed him in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles over his head. “Your face, that’s what’s so funny!”

  “I liked you better when you were lying in that hospital bed!” Alex yelped.

  Julian stood to one side, laughing. The way Alex and Paul were horsing around reminded him of how he had goofed around with Grady. He felt a stab of homesickness for his old friend.

  But then he realized something. He and Grady would always be friends—Barry too, and Mick and the other Tornadoes. Just because he had moved didn’t mean he had to give them up. Wasn’t that what all the fancy technology, like cell phones and e-mail, was for? He had a lot of ways to stay in touch; and in the meantime, he could add new friends, like Alex, Jackson, and now even Paul.

  With that thought, a warm rush of happiness filled him. He turned to Alex and Paul. “Are you guys almost through pummeling each other?”

  Paul gave Alex one last knuckle rub and then let him go. “Now I am. Why?”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to come to my house and hang out.” He gestured to the other players too. “You can all come, if you want.”

  “Yeah, let’s have a defeat party!” Alex said, pumping his fist in the air.

  “I’ll come,” Paul said, “but only on one condition.”

  “What’s that, hot shot?” Alex wanted to know.

  Paul pointed a finger at Julian. “That he gets rid of the rest of his Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Death Drops! I’ve had enough of hospitals for this year!”

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