Underdog

Eric Walters

Copyright © 2004 Eric Walters

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

Walters, Eric, 1957-
Underdog / Eric Walters.

(Orca young readers)
ISBN 1-55143-302-8

I. Title. II. Series.

PS8595.A594U53 2004        jC813'.54        C2004-901649-0

Library of Congress Control Number:
2004103572

Summary
: The seventh installment in Eric Walters' popular basketball series for young readers.

Free teachers' guide available.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP), the Canada Council for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council.

Cover design by Lynn O'Rourke
Cover and interior illustrations by John Mantha

In Canada:
Orca Book Publishers
Box 5626, Stn.B
Victoria, BC Canada
V8R 6S4

In the United States:
Orca Book Publishers
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07 06 05 04 • 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed and bound in Canada
Printed on 100% post-consumer recycled paper,
100% old growth forest free, processed chlorine free
using vegetable, low VOC inks.

For all those who know what it's like
to be an underdog—and still win!
—E.W.

I threw up the shot. It hit the front of the rim and bounced harmlessly away.

“That's ‘G'!” Kia yelled out.

“I know that,” I said.

“And that means you lose, Nick,” she said.

“I know that too.”

“So, Mark wins…again.”

“Big surprise,” I said as I ran over and retrieved the ball before it could roll away down the street. “Mark always wins.”

Mark gave a shy little smile. He'd won all five games of “pig” the three of us had played, but he'd never brag about it or anything. That just wasn't him. Actually, just talking wasn't him. He was about the quietest person in the world.

“I'm tired of playing pig anyway,” Kia said.

“Me too,” I agreed. Kia was my best friend. She'd been my best friend since we were really little, so I knew she didn't like losing any more than I did. And playing a game like pig with Mark was almost a guarantee of losing. He was impossible to beat in any game that involved simply shooting a basketball.

“How about if we play a little two-on-two?” Kia suggested.

“Maybe I can't beat Mark at pig, but at least I can count,” I replied.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Kia asked.

“Look around, Kia. Two-on-two basketball would involve two plus two players. If you haven't noticed, there are only three people standing here on the driveway,” I said.

“Actually I'm pretty good at math. Three plus one equals four, so that means we only need one more player,” she replied.

“And where do you think we're going to get that extra player? I've already called David and Jamie, Tristan, Paul and—”

“I'm not talking about calling anybody. How about that kid?” Kia said, pointing down the street to the little park.

“The kid on the swings?”

“Yeah.”

A kid had slowly walked by on the other side of the street a couple of times while we were playing. As he'd walked by, he watched us play while he pretended not to watch us. None of us knew who he was, so that meant he didn't live around here. The kid was now sitting on a swing in the park a half dozen houses down from my house. He wasn't swinging, just sitting there.

“How do you know he even plays basketball?” I asked.

“I won't know until I ask him.”

“You're just going to walk up to him and ask if he wants to play?” I asked.

“Unless you want to go.”

“Not me!” I exclaimed and backed away a step.

“How about you, Mark?” she asked.

Mark just shook his head. Mark didn't even like to talk to people he knew, so I couldn't imagine him walking up to a stranger and starting a conversation.

“Then it looks like it will be me.”

Kia took the basketball from my hands and started off toward the park, dribbling the ball as she walked. Mark and I stood there just watching—after all, since she'd taken the ball, what choice did we have but to watch? She walked right up to the boy and it looked like she started talking—not that we were close enough to hear, but what else would she be doing?

“She's got a lot of guts,” Mark said. “I'd never go up and talk to a stranger.”

“You hardly talk to the people you do know.” Mark chuckled softly under his breath. My mother joked that she thought Mark was just waiting for a break in the conversation between Kia and me—a break that never did come. I loved having a mother who thought she was funny.

It was true that Kia and I did talk a lot, but there was a whole lot more that we didn't even need to say. We'd been best friends since around the time we'd learned to speak,
and because of that we just knew what the other was thinking without even needing to put it in words.

The boy got off the swing and he and Kia started walking back. Actually she was walking and he was dribbling the ball. Even from the distance it was obvious that he could handle the ball. He did a little crossover through his legs a couple of times, and the ball danced between his hands and the pavement. I watched them walk toward us.

The kid was a little taller than Kia. She was just about the tallest person in our grade, so he was at least a year older. He was wearing a football jersey, a big silver necklace dangling around his neck, baggy pants and a head-band. As he got closer I could tell that he also had a big shiny stud in one ear.

I'd once mentioned to my mother that I'd like to get an ear pierced. She said when I became a pirate I could get an earring…and a parrot to go along with it.

There was one other thing about the kid. He was black. Not that that made any difference. He just was.

“This is Ashton,” Kia said, “and these guys are Nick and Mark.”

“Hi,” I said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Mark said.

He nodded his head in greeting.

“Ashton said he'll play some ball with us,” Kia said. “The only question is what are the teams?”

“Who's the best of you three?” Ashton asked.

“We're all different but about the same,” Kia replied. “We all play rep.”

“Rep?”

“We play for the Mississauga Magic team. We represent this city when we play against the best players from other cities,” she explained.

“We've been together for years,” I added.

“If you say so,” he said, but he didn't sound like he was impressed. “Tell you what,” he said, looking at me. “Why don't you take whoever you want and I'll take the other one.”

“No, you pick,” I said.

“Nope, I think you should. Pick who ever's the best. That way it might be a game,” he said.

Who did he think he was? Just because he had a crossover dribble and some jewelry didn't mean he could play ball.

“How about if I take the girl?” he said. “Just to make it more even.”

“The girl's name is Kia, remember?” Kia snapped. “And I don't think I want to be on your team. I'd rather be on the winning side.”

To my shock he started laughing. “Good one,” he said. “Very good. You take Kia and I get the little guy.” He tossed me the ball. “Shoot for possession.”

I walked to the foul line. If I made the shot, we got the ball. If I missed, it was their ball to begin. I took a deep breath, bounced the ball exactly three times and spun it backward in my hands. This was my free throw routine. Always the same. Never different. At least not until I missed three shots in a row and then I'd change everything.

Bending at the knees, remembering to use my legs, I put up the shot. It swooshed!

“Our ball,” Kia said. She grabbed the ball and we walked to the top of the key.

“Mark knows all our plays as well as we do so we have to work on Ashton. Let's work the pick-and-roll and try a lot of backdoor plays,” she whispered. “I get the feeling he's going to jump out at things and try to steal the ball.”

I nodded. “I'll in-bounds the ball.”

Ashton came out and stood in front of me.

“Check,” I said as I bounced him the ball and he tossed it back.

Kia ran free of Mark and I threw her the ball. Instantly I set up a pick, and as she broke around me to shake Mark off, Ashton rushed forward to block her. I spun around and was completely open. Kia tossed me a soft little lob pass that dropped right into my hands. I laid it in for an easy two points.

“That's the first points of the game,” Kia cackled.

Ashton took the ball. “First points don't matter as much as the last points of the game. You know, the ones that win the game.”

Ashton gave the ball to Mark. “You toss it in.”

Mark checked the ball with Kia and then put in a perfect pass to Ashton. Ashton
began dribbling. He faked me in and out, putting the ball back and forth between his legs from one hand to the other. He was good. I knew if I lunged forward he'd be able to break round me. I backed off a half step, hoping he wouldn't—or couldn't—shoot.

“You coming out to get me or what?” he asked.

“I think I'll wait right here.”

Ashton suddenly broke for the net, faking to my right and trying to charge around the left. It was a good move, but I had the angle to seal him off and—he did a lightning fast behind-the-back move, broke around me and put in his own easy lay-up!