Long Shot for Paul (5 page)

He made the foul shot, and cheers burst from the Sabers fans.
I got back those two points and one extra,
Glenn thought.
But we’re still one behind.

He never played as hard as he did those last remaining moments. He had another opportunity to shoot, and missed the ring by
inches. Don tried his best to sink a field goal, too. But the Blue Waves swarmed over the Sabers like hornets. The seconds
dribbled away until there were no more left. The Blue Waves edged out the Sabers, 51–50.

Don, Andy, and Stevie had no words to say to anyone in the locker room. No good words, that was. “If that birdbrain hadn’t
given them that basket we would’ve taken them,” Don said to Andy. He said it softly,
but Glenn, sitting only a few feet away, heard him.

His neck grew hot. He looked up at Don, but Don was unlacing his sneakers and didn’t lift his eyes.

As they left the Recreation Hall for home Paul couldn’t get over the mistake he had made. “I thought it was our basket! I
wouldn’t have shot if I didn’t think so, Glenn! I thought it was — ”

“Forget it,” said Glenn. “I told you anybody could make a mistake like that, didn’t I? And for crying out loud, don’t cry!”

“Patience, Glenn,” said Judy, who had been walking on Paul’s other side and now squeezed in between them.

Glenn shook his head and crunched his teeth. Patience. Sometimes it was just too hard to hang on to.

The next day somebody started to spread
the news around school that the coach wasn’t going to let Paul play again. It seemed as if everyone in the whole Livingston
School had learned that Paul Marlette had shot the ball into the wrong basket last night. You’d think he had committed the
crime of the century.

On Thursday the Sabers played the Gators and Glenn began to wonder if the rumor was true, that Paul wasn’t going to play.
But Paul was there in uniform, tall and proud as if nothing had happened.

The Gators were trampling over the Sabers like giants. They led 32 to 19 going into the second half, and Glenn was beginning
to believe that Paul wasn’t going to play regardless.

But with two minutes to go in the final quarter, and the Gators still far in the lead, Coach Munson took out Benjy and put
in Paul. Paul stayed with his man most of those
two minutes. Once he committed a foul. But the important thing was that he played. All that gossip in school was as false
as a Halloween mask.

In the Cowboys game on December 21, Paul played a minute in the first quarter and two minutes in the second. Glenn played
most of both quarters and chalked up four baskets and two foul shots for ten points. The Sabers piled it on the Cowboys again
in the second half, and in each quarter Paul played a little. Twice he caught a rebound and passed the ball back to a teammate.

No one said a thing about Paul’s catching the rebound the first time except Glenn. “Nice going, Paul,” he said simply. After
the second rebound Paul caught, Stevie said, “Thataway, Paul! You’re coming along fine!”

Paul’s face brightened as if a candle had been lit inside him.

The next evening Dad, the boys, and Judy drove out and bought a Christmas tree. School had been let out at noon for the Christmas
holidays. The kids didn’t have to return until the first week of January. Paul’s vacation from Moreland School was at the
same time.

They put up the tree and decorated it that night. Most of the presents had already been bought and wrapped. The boys hauled
in the presents from the various rooms and Judy placed them under the tree on top of the white tissue paper she first had
laid carefully underneath.

There was one more thing Mom said she had to get, but she wouldn’t tell what it was. Nor for whom.

On Thursday, two days before Christmas, the Sabers played the Shawnees. Don Marshang and some of the other guys thought
that it would be a runaway for the Sabers, since they had already beaten the Shawnees once. During the first quarter it began
to look as if Don’s prediction was right. The Sabers were pumping in the ball from all over the front court.

Then the Shawnees, who were playing a zone defense, changed to a man-to-man. The bright numbers on the scoreboard began to
change. Paul fouled a Shawnee as the player was about to lay one in. The ball missed the basket, but the player was given
two shots. He made them both.

Less than thirty seconds later Paul accidentally tripped a Shawnee dribbling the ball for his second foul. The Shawnee was
given a shot and made it. Paul was taken out. Glenn could see that even the coach’s soft talk wasn’t helping Paul’s cheerless
attitude.

Paul got in just for a minute in the second half. He intercepted a pass from a Shawnee
that surprised him more than anyone else. Then what did he do but throw it wildly across the court, intending it for Stevie.
The pass was so high it sailed into the crowd.

The coach yanked him and Paul didn’t get in again.

“He was worse tonight than he’s ever been, Judy,” Glenn told her at home. She had too bad a cold to go see the game. Only
Dad had gone with the boys. “And I thought he was getting better.”

“I told you to be patient,” she said. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know.”

Just then he heard a noise from another part of the house. “What was that?”

Judy rose to her elbow on the couch, her eyes wide as bottle caps. “Sounded like it came from Paul’s room,” she said worriedly.

“I think it did,” Dad said.

He and Glenn rushed to Paul’s room. Paul was standing before his desk, gripping
something very tightly in his hand. It was a model of a boy he had made a long time ago. A part of it was in his hand, a part
of it on the floor, as if he had banged it against the edge of the desk.

“I didn’t play good tonight, did I?” he cried, his eyes blurring. “I didn’t play good at all!”

Glenn’s heart suddenly ached. He knew how Paul felt. He knew exactly. “So who played good?” he said. “Nobody did.”

Dad hugged Paul gently. “There, now,” he said. “Take it easy. Like Glenn said, no one really played too well. That’s basketball.
Even those boys who play a lot have many bad nights, too. Forget it, son. Just try to do better next time, that’s all.”

“The guys think I — I’ll never play good,” Paul sobbed. “They — they all think that way.

“I don’t,” said Dad.

“Neither do I,” said Glenn. “You’ll get good, Paul. You wait and see. Then you can show those guys.”

Paul blinked away the tears. He pulled a tissue from a box by his bed and blew his nose.

“I know you don’t, Glenn,” he stammered. “And you either, Dad. And Benjy.”

“Benjy’s a nice kid,” Glenn said, and cracked a smile.

Dad picked up the piece from the floor. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s put that model back together again, shall we?”

Paul dried his eyes and started to put the pieces back together. He did it very carefully, while Glenn and Dad watched. Glenn’s
heart still ached, but not as much as it did before.

’
TWAS the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there
…

D
ad’s voice was the only sound in the stillness of the house as he read the poem that he always read on Christmas Eve. He was
sitting in one of the easy chairs, Mom in the
other. The three children were sitting on the sofa, listening to every word. Glenn had memorized parts of it so that he was
able to say them silently with Dad.

The blue, red, and orange lights on the tree shone on their faces. Lighted blue bulbs framed the picture window. The starry
night was like a blue-black cardboard speckled with holes.

Dad finished the poem, folded the book, and put it aside. “Well, it’s time for bed,” he said.

“Daddy, I think you do a terrific job reading that poem,” Judy said, the lights on the tree shining in her eyes. “I don’t
think this would seem like a complete Christmas Eve if you didn’t read it.”

“Why, thank you, daughter.” Dad smiled. “I rather feel the same way.”

Glenn said good night and headed for his room. He saw a new package beside the
others under the tree. It was large. He glanced at the tag on it.
To Paul. From Mom and Dad.

They rose early the next morning and walked to church. It was so crowded many people stood at the rear and sides. Reverend
Thomas gave a fine Christmas sermon. At dismissal, he wished all of them a happy Christmas and said he’d see most of them
again next Sunday and the others next Christmas.

They returned home. Mom made coffee for herself and Dad, while the kids ate cereal and milk. She had a ham cooking in the
oven and was going to make a big dinner.

Afterwards Judy passed out the gifts. Most of them were things to wear — socks, sweaters, pajamas. Glenn also received two
large books on the stars and planets and a model of a spacecraft. And Paul got a Plasticine model set. But it was the large
box
that made everyone curious. Everyone, that is, except Mom and Dad.

Paul’s face was eager as he fumbled with the wrapper. He uncovered a large box, lifted the lid, looked in. On either side
of him Judy and Glenn peered curiously too.

“It’s a keyboard!” Judy cried.

“A keyboard? For me? Oh, boy!” He flung himself at Mom and Dad and hugged them both. Then he looked bewildered. “But how do
you play a keyboard?”

“I’ll teach you.” Mom smiled. “Lift it out, dear.”

Dad lifted the keyboard out of the box. It was a beautiful shiny instrument, equipped with a music stand and legs.

Glenn stared perplexedly. “Think Paul will learn to play it?” he asked. It sure seemed as if Mom and Dad had gone too far
this time. They didn’t really expect Paul to learn to play that keyboard, did they?

“I think he will,” said Mom confidently.

She placed a chair in front of the keyboard and sat down. Then she picked up some literature that came with the instrument
and two small paper boxes. One contained cutout letters which she pressed against the keys. The other contained a metronome,
an instrument that kept time. Mom wound it up and the slender metal rod inside began clicking back and forth. Mom placed the
metronome on the keyboard. She opened a songbook to “Jingle Bells.”

“See those letters above each note, Paul?” said Mom. “Watch closely. Just press the keys that match the letters. That’s all
there is to it.”

Mom played the song all the way through, then let Paul take over. He played very slowly. Mom helped by holding a finger above
the letter on the music. As he played, a rosy glow brightened Paul’s cheeks.

He will learn to play it!
Glenn thought, his heart singing.
He will!

After dinner Paul came out of his room, dressed in his winter clothes.

Glenn was reading one of his books on the stars and planets. He glanced up. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I got a present for Benjy,” answered Paul. “I’m going to take it to him.”

Glenn frowned. “Why? Did he give you a present?”

“No.” The smile faded from Paul’s face. “It’s a top. He likes tops.”

“But you know how his mother is,” said Glenn. “She’s awful funny. Why don’t you wait? If he gets you something, then give
him the top. If he doesn’t, keep it yourself.”

Paul looked at him awhile, undecided. At last he turned and walked back to his room.

Glenn pressed his lips firmly together and shook his head. Was it right telling Paul
what he had? He wasn’t sure. Boy, that old Mrs. Myles really made things rough at times.

Paul came out of his room, his winter clothes still on. “Want to come out and play basketball awhile, Glenn?” he asked.

The stuff about planets was interesting, and Glenn hated to break away from it. But he had lots of time to read those books.
“Okay, Paul. I’ll get my coat.”

“I’ll shovel the snow off the driveway,” said Paul happily, and walked out.

They played till dusk.

The next afternoon Don Marshang, Andy Searles, and a group of other guys — some from other basketball teams — stopped by while
Glenn and Paul were shooting foul shots. Don asked Glenn if he’d like to go along with them to the Recreation Hall to play
basketball. They were going to choose up sides.

“Yes, I’ll come along,” Glenn said. “Okay if Paul comes too?”

“Sure. Bring — ” one of the guys started to say.

“Why?” interrupted Don. “We need only one more man. Come on, Glenn. Paul can work on his foul shots.”

Glenn felt funny leaving Paul alone.

“Come on, before somebody else gets there and takes over the court,” Don said, and started to lead off with the gang.

Glenn started after them. He turned just before he was past the house and saw Paul holding the ball in his hands, looking
at him. Glenn stopped. His heart was pounding.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll go.”

“Why can’t he bring Paul?” a guy started to say again.

“Never mind!” Don barked. “We don’t
need him nor that — ” He broke off and gazed at Glenn with cold, steely eyes.