Hot Shot (7 page)

Every muscle in his body ached from the tension of watching when he wanted to be playing. He longed for the sting of the ball
as it hit his hands, for the feel of sweat of pouring down his face. He missed the thud of the blood pumping through his veins
and the breathlessness that came with running up and down the court. Heck, he even missed the squeak of his sneakers on the
polished wood!

One thing’s for sure
, he thought.
I’ll never take playing for granted again!

“Warriors!” Coach Boyd’s angry shout made Julian start. “In the far corner!
Now!
”

Julian grimaced. He knew why the coach was upset. The Warriors were behind 23 to 18. Julian was pretty sure Paul had made
only five of those points—not enough to please his father, no doubt. He grabbed his water bottle and followed his teammates
to the end of the court.

Paul sat next to the coach, a thick towel draped over his shoulders. As Coach Boyd gave his players a pep talk—
more like a talking to
, Julian thought—Paul used the towel to wipe perspiration from his face and neck.

Julian bit his lip. He had a towel just like that in the duffel bag he’d stowed behind his seat. Even though his mother washed
the towel after every game, Julian liked to imagine that it held a bit of the sweat it had collected from those matches—mementos
of each one he’d played.

Mom won’t have to wash that towel after this game,
he thought ruefully.

“Pryce!”

Julian’s head snapped up at the sound of Coach Boyd calling his name.

“I hope you’ve been paying attention,” the coach said, “because you’re going in at the start of the second half.”

Julian blinked in surprise and then nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I—I won’t let you down, sir!”

Coach Boyd pressed his lips together in a thin line but he didn’t reply. He named a few other subs going in with Julian, including
Skeeter and Alex at guard. Then the referee called over that the second half was going to begin in a few minutes.

“All right, Warriors,” Coach Boyd growled. “Let’s see you put a cloud over those Suns! Hands in the middle and…go Warriors!”

Julian and the others hurried to the court for some warm-up drills. The movement loosened Julian’s muscles and for the first
time that afternoon, he felt himself relax.

That feeling lasted only a few seconds after the starters returned to the bench. To his shock, Paul wasn’t among them!

Maybe he didn’t hear his father say I was starting this quarter,
he thought. But when he tried to tell Paul as much, Paul just laughed.

“Nice try!” he said.

“But—”

“But nothing!” Paul cut in. “You may be in the game, but not at center. I’m the only center on this team. You’re in for Will.
At forward!”

F
orward?!” Julian’s mouth dropped open in horror. “But I don’t know what to do at forward!”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Well, I hope you’re a fast learner, then, because that’s your position for the next few minutes.”

“Ready, Warriors?” the referee called just then.

Paul nodded. Then, without a backward glance at Julian, he hurried off for the opening throw-in. Julian hesitated at mid-court,
unsure of where to go or what to do. Then Jackson appeared at his side.

“Keep an eye on number 13 over there, okay?” the freckled-faced forward said to Julian. “Will said he’s got a good shot, and
he’s on your side of the zone—the left baseline corner of the two-one-two zone. If we get the ball, run down the side to the
left corner.”

“Thanks, Jackson,” Julian said gratefully. “But what do I do on offense?”

Jackson gave a short laugh. “Do what the rest of us do—get the ball to Paul!”

Julian was surprised to hear bitterness in Jackson’s voice. For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe the other Warrior
starters didn’t care for Coach Boyd’s strategy any more than he and the subs did. But there wasn’t time to ask about that
now. The game was about to resume, and he needed to get into position!

The referee gave the Suns guard the ball and blew the whistle. The guard immediately bounced a pass to a forward, who returned
it just as quickly.

Julian raced down to the left corner of the zone defense. He raised his hands in the air and watched the ball carrier like
a hawk. Would the guard drive to the hoop? Take a jump shot? Or would he pass to set up a play?

A movement to his right caught his eye. A Sun player had slipped behind Jackson along the baseline. Now he was turning to
look at the guard.

He’s waiting for a pass!
The thought struck Julian just as the guard stopped his dribble. Julian lunged to put himself between the Sun and the ball.
He stretched out his hand, reaching, reaching—
whap!
His palm met the ball squarely and deflected the ball away from the waiting Sun! Even better, the ball bounced at Skeeter’s
feet!

Skeeter scooped it up, held it for a second, and then put it to the floor with a soft, controlled fingertip dribble. Players
rushed past him, Warriors to get down on offense, Suns to set up on defense.

Julian hurried to the left corner, as Jackson had instructed him to do. Once there, however, he was at a loss.
What am I supposed to do now?

Luckily, Skeeter was taking his time bringing the ball down the court. Those precious seconds gave Julian a chance to think—and
to remember what the forwards on his old team used to do.

Cut in and out of the key, move toward the ball, set picks, and shoot!
It wasn’t that different from what he did at center, actually.

He danced a few steps into the paint. That maneuver drew his defender to him. So he backpedaled out again. His defender didn’t
follow. Instead, the Sun moved to stay close to Paul.

They’ve figured out that Paul is the one taking the shots!
Julian suddenly realized.
They don’t think I’m a scoring threat!
He smiled inwardly.
Well, they’d be wrong about that! If I can just get the ball…

It was as if Skeeter had read his mind, for at that moment, he stopped his dribble and fired a pass into Julian’s hands.

Paul signaled for the ball. But two Suns were covering him so completely that any attempted pass would end up in a turnover.

Julian, on the other hand, was wide open. He paused and then shot.

The ball arced high above the Suns and the Warriors. It seemed to hang in the air before beginning its descent. When it did
come down, it was directly over the hoop.

Fwing!
Nothing but net! Two points!

“Whoo-hoo, Jools! Way to go!” Barry’s voice rang out loud and clear above the smattering of applause.

Julian grinned as he ran past the stands to get on defense. “Who’s that kid?” he heard someone ask.

“No clue,” was the reply. “But he’s got a sweet shot!”

Hearing the exchange made Julian’s heart soar with hope. Maybe now Coach Boyd would use him more often!

But a split second later, his hopes were dashed. Will and Booker were crouching by the check-in table. At the next whistle,
they jumped up and ran onto the court. Julian knew what Will was going to say even as the words were coming out of his mouth.

“Pryce! I’m in for you!” Will called.

As Julian jogged off the floor, he glanced at the game clock. Only three minutes of the third quarter had passed!

Three minutes! That was all?

Alex had come out too. Now he slid up next to Julian. “Awesome shot, man,” he murmured. “Too bad it got you benched.”

Julian looked at him sideways. “I would have passed to Paul if he’d been open!” he replied just as quietly. “But the ball
would have been picked off if I’d tried. I had the shot so I took it. Doesn’t the coach think a basket is better than a turnover?”

Alex sighed. “Of course he does. But as far as he’s concerned, the two points you made are two points Paul
didn’t
make. It’s not about winning the game—it’s about making his son look good.”

Julian drummed his fingers on his legs in frustration. “Well, that’s just flat out wrong.”

“Tell me something I
don’t
know,” Alex agreed. “
All
of us Warriors know. But what can we do about it—except quit?”

Julian shook his head. “Quitting isn’t the answer. He can just replace us with other players. He needs to see that what he’s
doing isn’t right if anything is going to change!”

Alex shrugged. “Sure, that’d be great. But the question is, how can we make him see?”

Julian stared out at the court. Players were running up and down, blurs of red and yellow. “If he just wasn’t so focused on
Paul all the time, maybe he would see that we’re all pretty good,” he said finally. “But I don’t see how we can possibly change
that. Not if Paul stays on the court, anyway!”

J
ulian got back into the game midway through the fourth quarter. By that time, the Warriors were behind by eight points. He
got his hands on the ball a few times, but took and made just one shot. When the final buzzer sounded, the Suns had outshone
the Warriors, 46 to 40.

Julian followed his teammates through the hand-slap ritual. But instead of joining them in the locker room right away, he
hurried to the stands to see Barry. Megan, Barry’s parents, and his parents were there too.

“Hey! Good game!” Barry said.

Julian laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, right. I’m sorry you came all this way just to see me ride the pine.”

“Okay, so that was lousy. But forget about you.” Barry stood up and held his arms wide. “Check this out! No crutches!”

Julian laughed again, but this time it was with real happiness. “I know! I saw you earlier! That is great!”

“Thanks,” Barry said. “I’m still a long way from rejoining the Tornadoes, but at least I can get around on my own two feet.”
But when he tried to climb out of the bleachers, he stumbled. Julian caught him before he fell.

“Rats,” Barry growled. “I thought I could do that. I did it at halftime! Really!”

“He did,” Megan agreed. “I started to help him but he said he wanted to hide the—”

Barry cleared his throat loudly. Megan widened her eyes as if remembering something and stopped talking.

Julian looked from one to the other suspiciously. “He wanted to hide the what?”

“Hide the—the crutches I still have to carry with me,” Barry said. “So, are you going to get your stuff? Your folks invited
us to see your new house.”

Julian didn’t move. “Why do I get the impression you two are up to something?”

Megan and Barry shrugged but seemed to be holding back laughter.

“Fine, don’t tell me!” Julian left the stands then to collect his duffel bag. He had stowed it in the seats behind the team
bench. There were other bags there too. He was reaching for his when another hand grabbed it first.

“You going to steal my stuff now, just like you steal my points?” Paul hissed.

Julian narrowed his eyes. “Last I checked, points belong to the team, not one player! And this is my bag, not yours!” He wrapped
his hands around the duffel’s straps and tried to pull it up from the seat.

Paul abruptly sat on the bag, jerking it out of Julian’s hands as he did. “Dude, I’m telling you, this is mine! Unless your
initials changed from J. P. to P. B.?” He pointed to some lettering on the bag’s side that Julian had failed to notice before.

Julian’s face turned hot. “Sorry,” he muttered. He searched the seats and found his own duffel. It was identical to Paul’s,
minus the lettering. “My bad.”

Paul stood up and plumped his squashed duffel back into form. Then he swung it over his shoulder and stormed away without
another word.

Julian watched him go before hurrying to rejoin his family and friends.

“What was that all about?” Barry asked.

“Nothing important,” Julian answered. “Come on. Let’s get back to my house. I want to grab a shower and forget about this
whole stupid afternoon!”

It turned out that Barry and his folks couldn’t come to the Pryce’s house after all.

“It’s a school day tomorrow,” Mr. Streeter reminded Barry when his son protested. “For you and for Julian.”

Mrs. Pryce and Mrs. Streeter looked just as disappointed as their sons. But they promised the boys they’d all get together
as soon as possible.

“At least you have something to remember me by,” Barry said in the parking lot.

“What do you mean?” Julian asked, puzzled. Then he laughed. “Oh, if you mean the chocolate peanut butter drops, I’ve already
eaten most of them.” He put his hand to his heart. “But I swear I think of you and the guys every time I eat one! Really!”

Barry grinned. “Suuure you do! I wasn’t talking about those drops, though.”

“What were you talking about then?”

Barry waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure!” He climbed into his parents’ car before Julian could
ask him anything more.

Julian waved until the car was out of sight. Then he tossed his duffel bag into the trunk of the Pryce’s car, got into the
backseat, and put on his seat belt. “I’m ready to go home,” he said.

Mr. Pryce started the motor and then glanced at him over the seat. “I think that’s the first time any of us have called our
new house ‘home.’ Maybe we’re starting to think of it that way at last?” He sounded hopeful.

“Maybe,” Julian said. But he only said it because he knew his father needed to hear it. Deep down, he would have given anything
to still be living in their old house, in their old neighborhood—and to be part of the team made up of kids he called friends.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his window. He looked up, startled, to see Alex and Jackson standing there. He pushed the button
on his door and the glass rolled down.

“Uh, hey guys, what’s up?”

“We’re going to get some pizza,” Alex said. “Want to come?”

Julian blinked. “I—really?”

Jackson nodded. “Come on, everyone’s hoping you’ll show!”

“Can I, Mom?” Julian asked.

Mrs. Pryce beamed at him. “Sure!” She asked the boys the name of the place and told Julian she’d pick him up there in two
hours. “And honey?” she added as Julian got out of the car. “Have fun!”