“All right,” he said. “This is playoffs, and we need to up our game. We’re going to put in the triangle offense.”
I groaned. We’d tried this play earlier in the season, and it had been a disaster. Why was Coach Scott trying to get fancy now, when we were down a man and lacking the basics in our subs? We were the Mountview Hunters, not the Chicago Bulls.
He set us up for a drill. I could see Noah’s confusion straightaway. He had no idea where the ball was coming from or where he was supposed to go. Coach wasn’t much help either. He just yelled at Noah, “Walker, take position! Not there. In the corner. Walker! At the top of the key! On the block, Walker!” Noah was getting more and more frustrated, as was Coach and all of us guys as well. I felt for Noah. It wasn’t like the rest of us were perfect. No one knew the drill very well. But when Noah went completely the wrong way, it screwed up everyone. He was getting more than a few dirty looks.
It was almost time for the bell, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. All the hard work from yesterday was being undone. I’d be lucky if Noah didn’t give up altogether after this.
“Hey, Coach,” I said. “Do you think we could run those drills from yesterday again?”
“Now, Lane? It’s almost quitting time.”
“I just want to make sure I’ve got it. All this new stuff is messing with my brain.”
He narrowed his eyes at me but blew the whistle. “All right. Pass to the corner.”
I gave Noah a nod that I hoped said, “All right. You’ve got this one.” He didn’t acknowledge it. Just took his position at the top of the key.
I’ve got to hand it to Jenna. Muscle memory or whatever, she’d done her job well. The first time through was a little shaky, but after that I could almost see Noah heading into the zone. Dribble in past the free-throw line. Pass to the corner. Rotate to the corner position. Take the pass and shoot. Okay, so his shots weren’t going in, and his jump stop was a bit awkward. But he knew the drill. He wasn’t messing anyone else up. After five minutes Coach blew the whistle and we headed for the locker room. Noah was getting a few more looks now, and so was I, but they weren’t dirty looks anymore.
Chapter Five
“So he can do a pass-to-the-corner drill,” said Carlos. “Big deal.”
It was lunchtime, and we were huddled around a table in the cafeteria. Matt, Carlos, Jenna, Amber and me. The table was littered with the remains of salads and sandwiches, and Matt was picking the crumbs off his burger wrapper. I don’t know where Matt puts all his food. He eats like a linebacker and looks like a sprinter.
“Big deal?” said Matt. “Did you see him? He hasn’t played that well, like…ever. I could actually fire a normal pass at him and not worry about taking him out.”
“It’s one drill,” said Carlos, waving his finger at us. “Wait till he’s got a defender in his face and five seconds on the shot clock.” Carlos was never one to look on the bright side.
“Yeah, we get that,” I said. “It’s not like game play. But why do you think Coach runs the drills in the first place? So we play better in the game. Give us a break. It’s only been one day.”
Carlos shrugged.
“You just don’t want to admit we might actually win this bet,” said Jenna smugly.
“I’m not sweatin’ it. Catching a pass isn’t the same thing as getting a shot in,” said Carlos. He crumpled up his garbage and did a perfect shot into the trash can. “Nowhere near the same thing.” He grabbed his stuff and headed off.
Matt slid off the bench and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Who cares what he thinks?” he said. “If you can get Noah playing, I’m all for it.”
No one said anything after he left. I think we were all thinking the same thing. That what Carlos said was right. The first round was less than a week away. It was too little too late.
“So,” said Amber, turning to Jenna. “Did you find out who was sending you those creepy messages?”
Jenna scowled at her in a way that clearly said, “Shut up!”
“What creepy messages?” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” said Jenna.
“On Facebook,” said Amber.
They both spoke at the same time, and I looked back and forth from one to the other in confusion.
“Didn’t you tell him?” said Amber, eyebrows raised.
Jenna glared at her. “Why would I?” she said. “It’s got nothing to do with him.”
“Tell me what? Jenna, what’s going on?” I was starting to freak out a bit. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, and that usually meant trouble.
“Someone’s been sending Jenna these creepy messages on Facebook,” said Amber.
“What kind of creepy messages?” I said.
“Threats mostly.”
It was a bit like the moment I knew my car was going out of control. Unreal. A these-things-don’t-happen-to-people-you-know moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said.
“Because I knew you’d freak out, and you are,” said Jenna. “Just forget about it. I can handle it.”
“How?”
She looked up and glared at me. “By ignoring it. They’ll get tired of it eventually and stop.”
“Oh, great plan,” I said. I was more than a little mad that she’d told Amber and not me. “Do nothing. Hope it goes away.” Then something dawned on me. “That message you got yesterday at the rec center. It was one of them, wasn’t it?” It wasn’t nothing. She’d been scared. I’d seen it on her face. “How long have you been getting them?”
Jenna stared at the table and said nothing.
“A couple of weeks,” said Amber. “That I know of anyway.”
“A couple of weeks!” Now that I thought about it, Jenna had been a little jumpy lately. I’d been so focused on the last matches of the season that I hadn’t given it any thought. “Jenna, you’ve got to tell someone. Who’s sending them? Someone from school? We’ll go to the office and tell Mr. Anderson, or the counselor, or your parents…”
“No!” She said it so loud that the kids at the next table turned to stare at us. “This is why I didn’t tell you, Dylan. I’m not going to Mr. Anderson or the counselor or anyone else. If my parents found out…well, I’d never be let out of the house again. Just leave it alone.”
She grabbed her books off the table and stormed out. With a shrug, Amber followed her. I was left staring at their backs and wondering what the heck I was supposed to do now.
It was obvious Jenna was still mad when we met up with Noah after school. I hadn’t decided what, if anything, I was going to do about the threats. So I kept my mouth shut. She was probably right about her parents. They had always been strict and overprotective. But when Jenna had witnessed a robbery at the 7-Eleven over the Christmas holidays, their parental instincts had gone into overdrive. Ever since then, they overreacted to things big-time. Like the car accident. That black truck had hounded us. The more I’d thought about it, the more positive I was that the driver had wanted us to drive off the road. It hadn’t been my fault. We’d explained what happened to Jenna’s parents when the cops dropped us at her place, but you could see they were close to losing it. They kept staring at me like they’d just found out I was in a motorcycle gang or something. They claimed to believe us, but Jenna was still banned from riding with me.
We tried to act like everything was normal between us. I told Jenna about practice that morning, how Coach had sprung the new drills on us. I was hoping we could do at least one or two of them, but Jenna was set on doing some shooting drills. I think Carlos had gotten to her with the “taking a pass isn’t the same as making a shot” remark.
Noah was hopeless at shooting. We ran through the drills over and over. And while he got into the groove of who to pass to and where to take the shot from, he probably scored a max of five baskets in the hour of practice.
None of us were feeling very good about it as we packed up to go.
“We should have practiced the triangle-
offense drills,” I said as I pulled on my jacket. If Coach ran them again next week, Noah was going to be just as lost as he had been today.
“There’s no way Coach Scott is going to play the triangle offense in the playoffs,” Jenna scoffed. “He’s bluffing. That’s way too much of a risk. Especially with the team you’ve got.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.
“Let’s face it,” said Jenna, rolling her eyes at Noah. “You guys aren’t really championship material.”
“And I suppose the girls are?” I was getting mad now. If she was looking for a fight, she was going to get it.
Her eyes flashed. She was looking for a fight. “My girls could beat your team any day.”
“Oh yeah?” I could see Noah shaking his head, but I couldn’t back down now. “Want to put your money where your mouth is?”
“Name the day,” said Jenna.
“Saturday, 7:00 PM.”
“You’re on,” said Jenna.
We stood and stared at each other. I knew this fight wasn’t about whose team was better, and so did she. Neither of us was going to spell it out though. We gathered our stuff without another word.
As we followed Jenna out of the gym, Noah shook his head again. “What have you done?” he muttered.
Chapter Six
I didn’t tell Coach about the game. Mountview boys versus Mountview girls. It was hard enough to sell it to the guys.
“If we lose this game, man, we’ll never live it down,” said Carlos.
“Yeah, and if we pull out now, they’ll say we knew we couldn’t win,” I said. It was a lose-lose situation. Unless we won. There was no other choice.
The rec center was crowded with kids. We’d tried to keep it quiet, but word had gotten around. Boys versus girls. Everyone had come out to watch us prove which was the better sex. We had nominated Stretch as coach. Jesse Derby had better things to do on a Saturday night, or so he claimed, and that left us with one sub—Noah.
The game started out all right. We had the height advantage, so I easily beat Chelsea Collins to the tip and Carlos grabbed the ball before it even got within Amber’s reach. He fired the pass to Matt, who drove in for an easy layup.
“Want to give up now?” I said to Jenna as we passed midcourt.
“We’re just getting warmed up, big shot,” she said.
Stretch had set us a half-court man defense. Against the girls, who were smaller than us, it was the best strategy. That didn’t mean we shut them down. Bounce passes, fast breaks, three-pointers, quick dribble drive. They knew their stuff, and they were prepared to use it. They also had an eight-man—or rather eight-woman team, meaning three subs. And not a Noah Walker in sight.
By halftime we were all in. Stretch hadn’t subbed anyone off, and the five of us were panting like a pack of sled dogs. We were still up though, 45–35. A comfortable lead.
“Don’t start thinking we’ve got a comfortable lead now,” said Stretch. “Ten points can disappear like that.” He snapped his fingers to demonstrate. “Jenna’s their biggest scorer, but she’s no ball hog. She’ll pass it off if she has to, so watch Chelsea and Amber as well.” He looked around at us all sucking down our drinks, red-faced and sweating. “Noah, I’m going to put you on.”
I don’t know whose face was more comical, Noah’s or the rest of the guys’. It was the last thing we’d expected.
“Come on, Stretch, you can’t do that,” said Carlos. “No offense, Noah, but we’ve got to win this thing.”
“No, I’ve thought this through,” said Stretch. “We play on Noah’s strengths and avoid his weaknesses.”
“His strengths?” said Carlos. “Like what?”
I could see Noah was wondering the same thing.
“Number one, his height.” True. At six-foot-four, Noah even beat me in the height department. “We switch to a zone defense,” continued Stretch. “Noah camps in the key, and those girls won’t get anywhere near the paint for a layup. You can do that, right, Noah?”
Noah nodded. He looked interested.
“Number two, passing.”
“Passing?” said Carlos. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No, I was watching him yesterday,” said Stretch. “His passing skills have really improved. You pass to him nice and high, over the girls’ heads, and we get the ball into the paint. Noah, Spence and Isaiah are your go-to guys. You get the ball into the key and let them do the shooting. Got it?”
It made sense. And, for the first time, Noah was looking pleased about being subbed in.
“Dylan, you’re off first.”
We threw our hands into the middle of our circle and shouted, “Hunters!”
I was nervous watching Noah run onto the court in my place. Stretch was right—ten points could disappear really quickly. I was curious to see how he would do though. We’d had another practice that morning, running drills of every kind. Everything except the triangle-offense drills, that is. Jenna was convinced Coach Scott wouldn’t run it in playoffs. Noah had improved. There was no doubt about it. He could run the drills far better than he ever had. We were about to find out if he could transfer those skills to game play.
Jenna saw him run on and nodded at me. I could tell she was just as eager as I was to prove her extra training with Noah was working.
It was the girls’ ball, and Amber passed it in to Jenna to bring up the court. The guys spread out in a 2-1-2 zone, with Noah center stage in front of the hoop. It was a good spot for him. His height would stop anyone from attempting a layup if they penetrated the defense, and other than that he couldn’t do much harm. Matt and Spence were camped on the blocks, and with Carlos and Isaiah at the top of the key, the chance of any of the girls making it into the paint was pretty slim anyway.
With the guys set up in a zone, Jenna had lots of options. Except driving into the key. She passed it to Emma, who faked a drive, turned when she ran up against Spence and passed it on to Chelsea. Chelsea passed it off to Carlotta, then into the corner where Amber was waiting. Amber went up for a jump shot that bounced off the rim.
I had to hand it to Noah. Matt and Spence were there. He could have left the rebound to them, but he jumped up and snatched it out of midair, looking so surprised I almost laughed out loud.
“Noah!” Carlos yelled.
Noah pivoted and spied Carlos near the half-court line, cutting for a fast break. He tried to do the right thing. He heaved the ball in Carlos’s direction. What he hadn’t taken into account was the speed of the defense. Or the fact that Carlos was already starting to run down the court. The ball bounced just short of Carlos, and before he could stop and backtrack, Emma swooped in, scooped it up and drove in for the layup. Two points.
I groaned. Stretch wasn’t discouraged though. “That could have happened to anyone,” he said. “Emma’s quick.”
I was curious to see how Stretch’s offensive plan would work. It was unconventional. Usually when your team had the height advantage, you would go to the tall man for the shot. In this case, our tall man couldn’t shoot. Some of the girls were almost as tall as Spence and Isaiah, so the guys might have a harder time getting past the defense than they thought.
Noah camped himself midway between the block and the free-throw line, ready to jump into the key. Chelsea manned up on him, but her six-foot height wasn’t much compared to his six-foot-four, and you could see she wasn’t taking him seriously anyway.
Carlos approached the three-point line and passed the ball back to Isaiah. I knew the girls expected Isaiah to drive in for a layup by the way they all closed in around him. Instead, he lobbed a pass over their heads to Noah. Chelsea was so surprised she barely twitched when Noah ducked around her. He passed the ball over to Spence, who was now wide open, and Spence put up the jump shot. Our lead was back to ten points.
“Yes!” shouted Stretch. “Good play, Noah!”
Noah ran back to midcourt, the grin on his face wider than the Grand Canyon.
Jenna call
ed a time-out. She knew what was going on, and she needed to straighten her girls out.
Stretch used the time to give us a pep talk. Keep up the good work, don’t slack off, that sort of thing. Then he subbed me in for Carlos, and we were back on court.
Now we had two tall players. That should be an advantage. We set up our zone and I watched as Jenna brought the ball down the court. I knew she’d have a game plan. I just didn’t know what it was. She dribbled in close, faked a pass to Amber and then bounce-passed it to Emma, positioned between Spence and me. Emma put up a jump shot that went off the backboard. This time Noah wasn’t quick enough. Chelsea charged in and grabbed the rebound. She went up for a second shot, and both Noah and I moved in to stop her.
The ref’s whistle blew. “Foul on number 52, Blue.”
A personal foul on Noah. I didn’t know whether to be proud or disappointed. He’d never had enough confidence to get a foul before. It showed how much he’d improved. On the other hand, Chelsea now had two foul shots. And a good chance of getting them in.
The first one flew through the hoop with barely a whisper.
The second one wasn’t quite so perfect. It hit the rim but dropped in the net after a couple of spins around the ring.
It was clear now that Jenna’s strategy was to play on Noah’s weaknesses. And she knew them inside out. On our next possession, Chelsea purposely fouled on Noah in the key. Of course, his free throws didn’t have a hope of going in. The girls managed to get the rebound, brought it up the court and scored in about five seconds.
Stretch called a time-out to revise our strategy.
“We need to draw the defense away from Noah before passing to him,” he said. “He has to avoid getting fouled at all costs.” He didn’t say it, but we all knew what he was thinking. We couldn’t afford to let Noah take any free throws.
Off the Rim Page 3
