Hot Shot (8 page)

Julian looked to where Alex and Jackson waited. “Thanks. I think I will!”

J
ulian did have fun with Alex and Jackson at the pizza place. Booker and Skeeter were there too. The five of them shared a
large pepperoni pie and played video games. When his mother came to pick him up, he was sorry to leave.

“Hey, I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” he called.

“You had a good time?” Mrs. Pryce asked.

“Yeah. Those guys are pretty cool.”

His mother was quiet for a few minutes. Then she said, “So, you think you’ll survive living here?”

Julian stared out his window at the passing houses. A small smile played around his lips. “I think so. Now that I’ve made
a couple of friends—yeah, I think I’ll do just fine here.”

Back home, Mrs. Pryce disappeared into the laundry room. Julian went to his bedroom.

The room didn’t feel quite as strange as it had at first. His books were on his bookshelf, his desk was set up with his computer,
and his closet held a lot of his clothes. But one important thing was missing—friends. His old bedroom had been smaller, but
it was always big enough for Grady, Barry, and other friends to hang out in.

Julian opened the top drawer of his dresser and plucked the few last Cutler’s candies from the box.

“I’m thinking of you guys,” he whispered.

As he chewed, he looked around his room. He tried to imagine his old friends sitting in it. Instead, someone else came to
mind: Alex. It wasn’t surprising, really—Alex had already been there, after all. But it was something more, Julian thought.

Alex had treated him like a friend, right from the start.

A sudden memory struck Julian then. It was the Tornadoes’ first practice. Julian was just realizing that he was the only returning
starter when Mick Reiss, the new kid, had come onto the court. Grady had greeted Mick warmly and made him feel welcome. Julian,
on the other hand, had refused to have anything to do with him—at first, at least.

Alex treated me just like Grady treated Mick,
he thought.
And Paul…is treating me just like I treated Mick!

An idea started forming in his mind. He lay down on his bed, crossed his legs, and jogged his foot up and down.

Mick and I are friends now because Grady made me see I was acting like a jerk toward him. Maybe… maybe Alex could do the same
with Paul and me.
It was worth a shot, he figured.

Julian awoke early the next morning, ate a big breakfast of cereal and toast, and then hurried to school. He caught up with
Alex near his locker. But when he started to ask him to help smooth the way with Paul, Alex looked at him in confusion.

“Didn’t you hear? Paul’s in the hospital!”

Julian blinked in surprise. “What? What happened?”

Alex closed his locker with a slam. “He went into anaphylactic shock on the car ride home from the game last night.”

“Ana-what?”

“Anaphylactic shock. Remember how I told you he’s severely allergic to peanuts?”

Julian nodded.

“Well, he must have come into contact with some. His lips and face turned puffy. His skin broke out in itchy red patches.
His tongue swelled up and his throat started to close. He couldn’t breathe!”

Julian’s hand crept to his neck. Paul must have been terrified! “Is he okay?”

Alex bit his lip. “It was a pretty bad reaction. But it could have been a whole lot worse. Luckily, Coach Boyd keeps a shot
of the medicine Paul needs with him at all times. It’s called epinephrine, I think. The coach gave Paul the shot and then
drove him to the emergency room. The doctors are keeping Paul for a day just to be sure he’s all right.”

“Wow. That’s unreal.” He and Alex started walking down the hallway to their first class. “Where did the peanuts come from,
anyway?”

“No one knows how he got exposed.” Alex shifted his books from one arm to the other. “Anyway, since you didn’t know about
Paul, I’m guessing you didn’t hear that practice is canceled today, either.”

Julian shook his head.

“Jackson and I are going to visit him in the hospital after school,” Alex said. “You want to come?”

Julian hesitated. “You think he’d be okay with that? If you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t the best of buddies!”

Alex smiled. “You’re hoping to change that though, right? Now’s your chance—after all, he’s confined to a hospital bed so
he’ll be a captive audience!”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Julian said, laughing, “sure, I’ll come this afternoon.”

W
hen Julian walked into Paul’s hospital room later that day, he felt as if he’d been transported back in time. After all, less
than three months ago he’d walked into a similar room, to visit Barry. Paul looked a whole lot better than Barry had, however.
Barry’s head had been wrapped in gauze, his broken limbs had been encased in plaster casts, and tubes had run into his arms.

Paul, meanwhile, was just hooked up to a single intravenous drip. Yet Julian could tell he had been through an ordeal. There
were dark circles under his eyes. His skin looked blotchy. When he spoke, his voice was raspy.

“What’s
he
doing here?” he asked, jutting his chin in Julian’s direction.

Any sympathy Julian had felt vanished. He turned to leave when Alex stopped him.

“He’s here because he’s your teammate,” Alex replied calmly. “Now stop being a jerk or I’ll have an orderly bring you a peanut
butter and jelly sandwich for lunch!”

Julian sucked in his breath. He was sure Paul would order them all from the room.

But to his amazement, Paul chuckled. “Been a while since you talked to me that way,” he said.

Alex pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while since you noticed I existed!”

Julian looked from one boy to the other and then tugged Jackson to one side. “Am I missing something here?” he whispered.

Jackson nodded. “Alex and Paul are best friends. Or they used to be, anyway, until Coach Boyd decided Paul was going to be
the next NBA superstar. Since then, Paul’s done nothing but play basketball. He never gets to hang out with us anymore. When
he’s not at practice, he’s working on his shot. Or he’s lifting weights. Or running on a track. Or downing special protein
bars to get big and strong.”

“Wow,” Julian said. “He must really like basketball.”

Jackson shrugged as if to say maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, before wandering over to the bed. Julian hesitated, and then
joined the others.

“So did they find out what caused the attack?” Alex was asking Paul.

“My mom did, when she was cleaning out my duffel bag this morning,” Paul answered. “My towel had these weird smudges all over
it. Turns out the smudges were made by chocolate and peanut butter.” He laid his head back against his pillow as if he was
suddenly exhausted. “I remember wiping my face on the towel on the way home last night. I must have rubbed the peanut butter
on me without knowing it.”

“Didn’t you see the smudges?” Jackson asked.

“It was dark in the car,” Paul pointed out.

“How did the candy get in your bag in the first place?” Alex wanted to know.

At that question, Paul shook his head. “Search me. My dad doesn’t allow me to eat candy. So someone else must have stuck it
in there.”

“Who would have done that?”

“Search me,” Paul said again. “But it shouldn’t be hard to find out because there was a small white box in my duffel bag,
too.” He screwed up his face as if trying to remember. “The box had a name on it—Culbert’s, or Cutter’s, something like that.
If we can figure out—”

Julian’s sharp gasp interrupted whatever Paul was going to say. The other boys stared at him.

“What is it?” Jackson asked.

“N-Nothing,” Julian stammered. “I just remembered I have to go somewhere.” He backed out of the room and quickly closed the
door. Then he leaned against the wall. His mind was racing.

The box didn’t say Culbert’s or Cutter’s. It said
Cutler’s
! Chocolate peanut butter drops like the ones he had at home had put Paul in the hospital! But how had the drops gotten into
Paul’s bag in the first place? He hadn’t put them there, and he was the only one who knew about Cutler’s and their Triple
Chocolate Peanut Butter Drops.

Then his eyes widened.
No, I’m not,
he thought.
Alex knows about them too. What if he thinks I put the candy in Paul’s duffel so that Paul would get sick?

J
ulian ducked into a nearby bathroom and used his cell phone to call his mother. She promised to pick him up in ten minutes.
He spent the time hiding in a bathroom. He didn’t want to risk running into Alex or Jackson. If Alex had remembered about
the candy, he might have told Jackson. Then maybe the two of them would come looking for him—to accuse him of sabotaging their
star center.

When he got home, he dashed up to his room and pulled open the top drawer of his dresser. He looked inside and sighed with
relief. The nearly empty Cutler’s box was still there.

At least I know the box in Paul’s duffel bag wasn’t mine
, he thought. He lay down on his bed and laced his fingers behind his head.
But it doesn’t clear up the mystery of where that other one came from!

He closed his eyes and envisioned the gym as it had looked the day before. He and the other subs had been sitting on the bench.
Their duffel bags were on the seats behind them. Paul’s fan club was nearby. If someone had slipped something into Paul’s
duffel, surely they or one of the Warriors would have noticed?

Unless one of Paul’s fans had done it?
He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his brain. Fans didn’t sabotage their favorite players. They wouldn’t have
dared with all the Warriors right there, anyway. And since there had always been at least some Warriors there—

Julian sat up abruptly.
That’s not true,
he realized.
There were a few minutes when none of the Warriors were on the bench—halftime! Someone could have easily put the candy in
Paul’s bag when we were all at the far end of the gym!

He stood up and paced his room. “Okay,” he muttered, “I’ve figured out the
when
. But what about the
who
? And most importantly, the
why
?”

He picked up the photograph of the Tornadoes from the top of his dresser. He looked from Grady to Mick, and then stopped at
Barry. “Too bad you didn’t see anything yesterday,” he said with a sigh.

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.”