Bad Shot

by Sylvia Taekema

  “Wally, Wally, are you all right?”

  Cody could hear Jamie’s voice in his ear as he rested his forehead on the gym floor. He was watching little stars dance across his eyelids.

  “I think so,” Cody said. “No blood?”

  “No blood.”

  “Can you play?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Then get up, man. You got two shots coming and we need them bad.”

  Cody sat up and shook his head to clear it. Two foul shots with no one in his way, just him and the basket. He didn’t need cool moves. He had a job to do and another chance to win the game.

  No one coughed, sneezed, cleared his throat or popped a gum bubble. There was not a sound to be heard in the gym except for the ball, as Cody set his feet and bounced it one, two, three times.

  He took the shot, closed his eyes and held his breath. It only took a second before he heard the thud and the swish. He smiled, but just for an instant. One in. One to go.

  It was a tie game. He could miss this next one and they’d go home even. That would be okay. But Cody knew he had the winning point in his hands. And he wanted it.

  Cody looked at Nick lined up along the key. There was no grin this time. And it dawned on Cody that Nick only smiled when Cody made a mistake, when he goofed up.

  Cody looked at Darnell, at Jamie, at Raj. All three gave him a nod. “Come on, Wally,” they whispered.

  Cody looked up at the basket. He wasn’t there to make Nick smile. Come on, he steadied himself. You’ve done this a million times. No turning to mush under pressure. Pretend it’s the hoop on the garage. One more shot before Mom calls for dinner.

  Cody took a deep breath, bounced the ball three times and then let it go. He didn’t close his eyes for this one. He watched it arc, descend, make contact with the backboard, circle half of the rim and then fall through the mesh. It was in.

  The whole place erupted in a roar. Cody’s mom threw her clipboard in the air. Coach Evans stood up on the bench, blowing across the top of his finger as if Buffalo Bill had just shot a bull’s-eye with his sharp-shooter. Charlie whirled his sweatshirt wildly over his head, knocking off Yeo-Jin’s headband and messing up her hair. Cody was swamped by a sea of green jerseys and thumped on the back until he was sure he’d spew his Gatorade. Nick stood to the side and adjusted the tape around his ankle. It took several sharp blasts of the ref’s whistle before he got everyone’s attention and pointed to the clock. There were still seven seconds left. The game wasn’t over.

  The Chargers scrambled quickly back into position. The Grizzlies wasted no time, inbounding the ball and sending a wild pass up past centre. The Chargers saw the plan instantly. The Grizzlies were going to try for a long shot to beat the clock. Those kinds of shots hardly ever went in. They’d have to be really lucky to sink one.

  Nick tried to steal the ball, but Elbows caught it and launched it just as the buzzer sounded. Every Chatham player jumped to block it, but it was too high. They all watched as the ball flew through the air, nailed the backboard, and buried itself in the net for three points.

  Lucky ducks, the Grizzlies had won.

  20

  The News

  When Cody heard his mom call up the stairs a second time, he knew he’d better get moving. He still had to get his papers out. He had practice after school and the team had another game next week. Cody couldn’t wait.

  He wasn’t thrilled about going out in the polar air this morning. But he’d been thinking he might use some of his “fun money” to buy a couple of lifejackets. Then, in the spring, he and Charlie could get the

  dinghy out again without giving any of his neighbours a heart attack or a reason to call Crime Stoppers. Maybe he could even persuade his mom to take it down to the Wilson Conservation Area and take a ride with him.

  Cody downed a tall glass of orange juice and

  decided to hurry so he’d have time to come back in for a Shaquille O’Neal–sized breakfast. He left his mother her copy of the paper, pulled on his boots and gloves and stepped out onto the porch. As he thumped through the snow, he thought about the basketball game the day before. He thought about scoring on the wrong end. It made his throat feel tight, but he took a deep breath and tried to put it out of his mind. He thought about the crazy shot, the buzzer beater that won the game. He thought about Darnell having faith in him. But what he found himself thinking about most was the way Spin-man had gone down and gotten

  back up to finish the game. Nick was a really good basketball player. Though he didn’t know exactly why, Cody thought maybe he should tell Nick that.

  Cody delivered his last paper. Just as he started jogging toward home, a car pulled up beside him.

  It was Joon Lee in his cruiser.

  “Hey, Cody. Want a lift?”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s cold this morning!” Joon shivered.

  “Sure is.” Cody pulled the door shut. He glanced out the window as they began to pull away. “Think the neighbours will call it in about their paperboy

  being picked up by the police?” He laughed.

  “The neighbours?”

  “Didn’t one of them call in about the dinghy?”

  “Dinghy?”

  “When we were out . . . on the creek . . . no

  lifejackets . . . in the rain?”

  Joon squinted, thinking. “Oh yeah! No, my sister called that in on her cell phone. You know Yeo-Jin. Always on top of things. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt, I guess.”

  Cody’s ears grew hot. He knew Yeo-Jin still had it in for him. She probably always would. He’d have to live his whole life being disliked by Yeo-Jin Lee. Maybe he’d have to move away, like Kimmy Fletcher. Kimmy hadn’t invited Yeo-Jin to her birthday party in kindergarten and had moved away soon afterward. Everyone in the class figured the two things were connected.

  “I think maybe she has a crush on one of you boys.” Joon winked. “I noticed she’s been going to a few basketball games. I don’t think Yeo-Jin even likes basketball.”

  Cody gulped. Now his cheeks flamed. Being liked by Yeo-Jin Lee could be even worse than being

  disliked by Yeo-Jin Lee. Maybe it was Charlie she had her eye on, or Talal. They’d have to do something about this. They might just have to set the worm farm loose.

  “How’s the team doing, anyway?” asked Joon.

  “Huh? Oh, good. Great.”

  “Well, keep it up. You know how girls just love a man in uniform.” Joon tugged on the brim of his hat and grinned.

  The cruiser had almost reached his house. “Ah, thanks for the ride,” Cody said quickly. “You can drop me here. I’m sure you’re busy.” Maybe Yeo-Jin would be busy with the upcoming speech competition, too busy to think about basketball.

  The Daily News was spread out on the table when Cody walked in. Partway down, in the column

  headlined “Sports Notes,” a few lines had been circled in red marker.

  The Chatham Chargers lost in a nail biter yesterday afternoon to the Glencoe Grizzlies, 48–46. Excellent effort by Jamie Yeong, Nick Spinelli, Darnell Davies and Cody Wallace.

  It was cool to read his name in the paper.

  Cody’s mom walked into the kitchen. “Did you see it?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  She rolled up the paper and smacked him lightly on the head with it. “You did a great job yesterday, Cody. I’m proud of you. I know I promised I’d play it cool at practice but . . .” She hugged him so tightly Cody thought he’d have to go find the foot pump in the garage to re-inflate himself.

  21

  Lettuce

  As soon as Cody entered the gym for practice that

  afternoon, he sensed something different. He looked around. His mom and Coach Evans were talking with Mr. Mendoza and Charlie at the door to the equipment room. Jamie and Malik were dragging the bins of balls out tow
ard the court. Stephan, Eric, Dan and Lucas each grabbed a basketball and started shooting at one of the nets. Over at the bench, Nick looked up at him and smiled. Cody felt the muscles in his neck begin to tighten. But, before Nick could say anything, “We Will Rock You” suddenly started blasting out of the speakers. That had been the difference. There had been no music playing.

  “Now that’s more like it!” shouted Coach Evans. “Classics.”

  Talal jumped out from behind the stage curtain.

  “What are you doing?” asked Cody.

  “Putting on some good music. I didn’t like the stuff that’s been playing. It was giving me a headache.”

  “So you just changed it?”

  “I asked the guys if they were okay with it. There’s more than one song out there, man, and more than one singer. Just because something’s playing doesn’t mean you have to listen. If you don’t like it, flip the disc, change the channel, trade the tunes.”

  Cody thought for a moment. He thought about Nick. Was it really that simple? Looking around the gym, he knew he had all kinds of help if he needed it. “Talal, that’s brilliant. You really are a wise guy.”

  “Me? I’m a genius. I’m a regular Bill Bates.”

  “Who?”

  “Bill Bates. That billionaire computer guy.”

  “That’s Gates.”

  “Him too. That’s why I get to go to the county speech competition.”

  “Who does?”

  “You’re looking at him.”

  “Get out. We never even heard your speech.”

  “I said it to Mr. Mendoza last week. I just turned it in a little late, remember? I had to finish my research.”

  “What research? You had to go to Art’s Burger Barn and eat some more fries? What’s your topic? How to go to the library and meet girls?”

  “No. But I bet I could give you some pointers on that. My actual topic is the impact of the current state of Chatham’s economy on its citizens.”

  Cody’s mouth fell open. “The what? Where did you research that?”

  “We’re living it, baby. What? You’re not surprised, are you?”

  Cody laughed and shook his head. “Of course not. That’s awesome, Talal. You go impress everyone at that competition and then go talk to the mayor.”

  “I just might. I’ll take Charlie with me and we’ll turn things around for this town.”

  “Turn things around, huh?” Cody clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Go grab a basketball, will you? I’ll be right back.”

  Cody headed for the bench. “Hey, Nick.”

  “Well, Mr. Wally-man.” Nick’s face was still smiling, but it wasn’t friendly.

  “Ready for practice?”

  “It’s a good thing we have some time to drill before the next game, don’t you think?”

  Cody cleared his throat. “Yeah. Wheatley, isn’t it? The Warriors.” He noticed Nick’s ankle was wrapped in a sturdy bandage. “Will you be up for it?”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.” Nick smiled sympathetically. “I’m happy to help, you know, but I can only do so much. The same goes for coaches . . . and assistant coaches. If someone doesn’t even know basketball basics . . .” Nick looked at the far basket and Cody knew he meant the shot Cody had put in on the wrong end. He felt his ears heat up. “You know, sometimes the smartest thing is just to know when to quit.”

  Cody stared down at the floor. He swallowed hard, but then he looked up and met Nick’s gaze. Cody smiled. It was time to change the channel. “I’m glad you made it today, Nick. Practice just wouldn’t be the same without you,” he said. Then he turned and walked out onto the court.

  Nick muttered something in return but Cody only half heard it. Besides, without anything to back it up, it sounded kind of hollow. Darnell was already on the floor shooting free throws with Raj.

  Talal, neon shoelaces flying, met Cody at centre. “Ready?”

  Cody nodded. He glanced back to where Nick still stood at the bench.

  “Never mind Spin-man,” said Talal. “Behind all the smiling, he’s actually afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  “Of you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “It’s the lack of deodorant, Cody.”

  “Wha —?”

  Talal punched his shoulder. “Just kidding. I figure it’s just that Nick’s always been top dog. He’s never had to play with someone as good as him before.”

  As good as Nick?

  “Why would Nick think he should be afraid of me?”

  “He’s seen you play, dude. Plus we told him. When he came to Chatham, first thing he asked was, ‘who’s your best b-ball player?’ We said, ‘Cody is, hands down. He’s a straight shooter and, man, he can be a wall when he wants to, when he’s chill.’” Talal punched his shoulder

  again. “And that hook shot, that’s sick. Can you teach me that one?”

  Cody’s mom walked over, clipboard in hand. Coach Evans blew his whistle. Talal tossed Cody the ball.

  Cody smiled. He loved basketball.

  “Time to look keen out there, boys,” Coach

  hollered. “Keen beans.”

  Talal grinned. “Celery play?”

  Cody laughed. “Lettuce.”

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks to all the young people whose hopes, dreams, energy and actions fueled this story, to my family who encouraged me through it, to everyone at James Lorimer & Company, especially Kat Mototsune, who helped to develop and publish it, to all the teachers and librarians who put it on their shelves, and to all the young readers who pick it up and read it. Where would I be without any of you?

  About the Author

  Sylvia Taekema works as a supply teacher and volunteers in programs for children at school, church, and in the community. Her first novel, Seconds, was nominated for a Silver Birch Express Award. Sylvia lives in Chatham, Ontario.

  Copyright © 2017 by Sylvia Taekema

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

  James Lorimer and Company Ltd., Publishers acknowledges the support of the Ontario Arts Council (OAC), an agency of the Government of Ontario, which in 2015-16 funded 1,676 individual artists and 1,125 organizations in 209 communities across Ontario for a total of $50.5 million. We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, which last year invested $153 million to bring the arts to Canadians throughout the country. This project has been made possible in part by the Government of Canada and with the support of the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

  We acknowledge the [financial] support of the Government of Canada.

  Nous reconnaissons l’appui [financier] du gouvernement du Canada.

  Cover design: Shabnam Safari

  Cover image: iStock

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Taekema, Sylvia, 1964-, author

  Bad shot / Sylvia Taekema.

  (Sports stories)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4594-1161-6 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-4594-1166-1 (EPUB)

  I. Title. II. Series: Sports stories (Toronto, Ont.)

  PS8639.A25B33 2017 jC813’.6 C2017-903296-8

  C2017-903297-6

  This digital edition first published in 2017 as 978-1-4594-1166-1

  Originally published in 2017 as 978-1-4594-1161-6

  117 Peter Street, Suite 304

  Toronto, ON, Canada

  M5V 0M3

  www.lorimer.ca

  Shot