4
Hey, Lynn! Wait up!”
Seeing Lynn headed for school the next morning, Daren pedaled hard to catch him. He felt bad about the way he had talked to Lynn the day before and wanted to make sure that everything was all right between them.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Daren said when he got close. “I don’t know why I said those things to you. I was a creep. You’re my friend, and you can say whatever you want.”
“No problem,” Lynn replied with his usual smile in place. They started toward school.
Daren sighed. “I don’t know why I act like that. It’s like, I can’t stop once I get going. Then, later, I always wish I had kept my mouth shut. You know what I mean?”
Lynn nodded. “Yeah. I just worry that it’s going to get you into a big jam someday.”
For some reason, Lynn’s tone irritated Daren. “Well, we can’t all be Mr. Cool, like you,” he replied with an edge in his voice.
Lynn gave him a sideways look. “At least you know it’s wrong to blow up like that, right?”
Daren shrugged.
“If you didn’t know,” Lynn went on, “then I’d really be worried.”
Daren didn’t know how to reply to that, so he let the subject drop.
That day at lunchtime, Daren carried his tray into the cafeteria, with Lynn just behind him. He headed toward a table where some other Rangers players were sitting.
As he neared, Lou Bettman looked up at him. Lou said something to Shawn, who glanced at Daren, then nodded.
Daren hadn’t been close enough to hear Lou, but he was certain that Lou was talking about him, and he was ready to bet that it wasn’t a compliment. In spite of having promised himself not to lose his temper, he felt himself getting mad. Who did Lou think he was to talk about him?
He and Lynn slid into chairs across the table from Lou and Shawn.
Daren stared at Lou. “Hey, Bettman, what were you saying about me just then?”
“Who says I was talking about you?” Lou snorted. “Maybe I was talking about the weather. Not everything is about you.”
Daren unwrapped his sandwich. “Oh, I see. You don’t have the guts to say it to my face.”
Lou slid his chair back. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Well, you don’t.”
Daren took a bite of his sandwich. When he had swallowed, he said, “So what were you saying? Go on — don’t be afraid.”
Lou stood up quickly. “You think I’m afraid of you, McCall?”
Daren stood, too. “No, you’re real brave. Just like you’re a great basketball player.”
Lou started around the table, but Shawn grabbed his arm, saying, “Don’t let him get to you. Don’t pay attention to him — he’s not worth the trouble.”
Meanwhile, Lynn tapped Daren’s arm. “What is it with you? Listen to yourself, you’re doing it again!”
“Well, he —,” Daren began.
Lynn cut him off. “It’s not him, it’s you — and you better cut it out.”
Shawn had his arm around Lou’s shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.” As the two walked away, Shawn turned and glared at Daren. “You’re a real pain, you know?”
Daren glared back. When Lou and Shawn had disappeared, he picked up his sandwich again. But he wasn’t hungry. Lynn finished his own lunch in silence, picked up his trash, and left Daren sitting alone for the rest of the period.
After his last class of the day, Daren was on his way to the locker room when he saw Shawn Howe by the door. Shawn walked over.
“I want to talk to you.”
Daren stood still. “Yeah?”
“Leave Lou alone, okay? You’re always giving him a hard time, taking shots at him every day. Why don’t you cut it out?”
“Are you his bodyguard?” Daren asked. “If he has a problem, let him tell me himself.”
He started to walk around Shawn, but Shawn got in his way. “I’m not his bodyguard. I’m his friend. And I’m telling you because he won’t. Get off his back, all right?”
Daren looked Shawn up and down, slowly. “And what if I don’t?”
“If you don’t,” said Shawn darkly, “I —”
Suddenly they heard angry voices in the locker room. One voice was Lou’s. The boys went to see, and found Lou yelling at Andy.
“That’s a stupid place to leave an open can of paint! What’s wrong with you? Is your brain out for repair?”
Andy flushed. “That’s not fair. I just left it there for a second —”
Seeing Shawn and Daren, Lou pointed to an open can of red poster paint on the floor. “He leaves that paint sitting there where anyone could knock it over! I almost tripped on it!”
Andy picked up the can. “I only left it there for a second, while I —”
“You shouldn’t leave it there at all!” yelled Lou. “You’re here to help us, not booby-trap us!”
Andy’s eyes flashed. “I didn’t —”
“What’s going on here?” Coach Michaels stood in the doorway to his office. “What’s the problem? Why all the shouting?”
Lou pointed to Andy. “He left an open can of paint in the middle of the floor!”
“I had to get towels,” Andy said. “I was gone for just a second.”
“All right, enough,” said the coach. He looked at both boys. “Let’s get ready to practice. Shake hands, you two.”
Lou scowled but shook Andy’s hand. Neither of the two looked happy.
As Coach Michaels had promised, the Rangers had a tough practice, running set plays over and over. At one point, Shawn grabbed a rebound and pivoted, the ball held high. As he spun around, his elbow slammed into Daren’s face. Daren stumbled back, rubbing his jaw.
“Sorry,” said Shawn, not sounding sorry.
“You did that on purpose!” said Daren.
“Hey, I didn’t see you!” insisted Shawn.
Daren’s jaw ached. “Yeah, right.”
“I saw what happened,” said Lou. “It was an accident, and you know it, McCall.”
“Accident! Right! Look who’s talking, Mr. Basketball himself! Hey, Bettman is it true that ‘Lou’ is short for ‘loser’?”
Shawn shoved Daren, hard. “I told you to cut that stuff out!”
The Coach’s whistle sounded loudly. “Hold it! What is the matter with you guys lately?” He stared around at the team, his hands on his hips. No one spoke.
“Look,” said the coach. “If you people want to fight each other, fine. Go out for the wrestling team. But if you want to play basketball, this has to stop. Now. If you hope to beat the Blazers, you’ll need all your energy for that.”
He paused to look at Shawn and Daren, who couldn’t meet his eyes. He shook his head and took a deep breath.
“Daren, go get an ice pack for your jaw.” Daren opened his mouth to say he was fine, but the coach’s eyes told him he’d better go whether he needed it or not.
He stalked into the locker room and found the first-aid kit in the bathroom. Still fuming, he pulled out the ice pack, crushed the inner bag of chemicals, then held the rapidly cooling plastic bag to his face. As he did so, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The look of anger on his face startled him, and he dropped his eyes. As his jaw numbed with the cold, he willed his temper to cool, too. Five minutes later, he tossed the pack into the trash and returned to the court.
The rest of the practice was uneventful. At the end, the coach called everyone to the sidelines.
“That’s it for today. See you tomorrow — and you’d better be thinking about basketball and your next game, not wrestling one another.”
The players started for the locker room. “Daren,” the coach called out. “Come here.”
Coach Michaels walked Daren over to a bench by the court and sat down.
“How’s the jaw?” asked the coach once the other players had gone.
“Okay,” Daren answered. “A little sore.”
“I saw what happened, and I know it wasn’t all your doi
ng,” he said. “But I want you to understand this: When you get on a player like you’ve done with Lou lately, it not only hurts that player, but it also hurts the whole team. It also makes for bad feelings among other players.
“It has to stop. I’d like you to knock off the nasty remarks. Can you do that?”
Daren wanted to defend himself, but he knew it would be a bad idea. So he simply nodded. “Okay, I promise.”
“All right, Daren. I think that it would be a good thing if the Rangers can all start pulling together from here on in, because —”
“McCall! Is this your idea of a joke?”
Lou Bettman had come back to the gym with an angry scowl on his face and a pair of street shoes in his hand.
The shoes were bright red!
“What happened?” asked the coach.
Lou held the shoes up for the coach to in spect. “Look at this! Someone took that paint in the locker room and painted them red!”
Coach Michaels took the shoes and looked at them closely. “When did this happen?”
Lou pointed at Daren. “Ask him! He’d be the one to know! He did it!”
5
Daren couldn’t believe it. Lou was accusing him! True, he and Lou weren’t exactly buddies, but this was unbelievable!
Daren was stunned to see the coach look at him suspiciously. Did he believe it, too?
Daren opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t know what to say.
“See?” yelled Lou. “He can’t deny it!”
Finally, Daren found his voice. “That’s totally bogus. I didn’t touch those shoes.”
The coach dabbed up some paint that had dripped onto the bench. “The paint’s still wet,” he said. “It happened a little while ago.”
Lou nodded. “Sure! When Daren went into the locker room, that’s when it happened.”
The coach frowned.
“And you saw Andy’s paint,” Lou continued angrily, “and you opened my locker —”
“I did not! That’s a lie!”
Lou turned to Coach Michaels. “It was him. Who else would do it?”
Daren shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”
The coach held up his hands. “All right, stop yelling, both of you. Lou, you can’t just assume Daren did it. You have no proof. Wear your basketball shoes, and I’ll see about getting these cleaned.” Lou started to protest, but the coach shook his head. “Go home, Lou. Now.”
Lou stomped away. Coach Michaels looked at Daren for a minute, saying nothing.
“I didn’t do it!” Daren could hardly talk, he was so upset. “I didn’t!”
“Okay, Daren. I’ll take your word for it.”
Daren opened his mouth to protest his innocence again. Coach Michaels cut him off.
“But,” he said, “there’s a reason Lou suspects you. Think about what it is.”
Daren scowled. “He just doesn’t like me.”
Coach Michaels cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t like you, huh? Now, why wouldn’t Lou like a nice, friendly guy like you?”
“I don’t know!” The coach’s eyebrow raised higher. Daren sighed. “Well… I guess, because I sometimes bad-mouth him.”
“‘Sometimes’? How about all the time? Lately, you never stop. That’s what I was talking about. I was hoping you could tell me why.”
Daren thought for a moment. “Well, he… he’s been playing really badly and letting us down. He’s hurting the team.”
“If a teammate is having a rough time,” the coach said, “then you try to encourage him and make him feel better — you don’t make him feel like a jerk. That’s something about being on a team that you don’t seem to have learned yet.”
Daren didn’t see why he should compliment a player who was hurting the team, but he knew better than to say so.
The coach sighed. “Okay, Daren, I believe you didn’t paint those shoes. I also know that if you give people a hard time, they’ll think the worst of you. Give that some thought.”
Daren felt like asking the coach why he wasn’t coming down on Lou for giving him a hard time but only said, “Yes, sir. I will.”
Coach Michaels finally smiled. “All right, then. See you tomorrow for practice.”
Lynn and most of the other players had left already when Daren entered the locker room. But that was fine with Daren. Even if the coach believed he hadn’t pulled that dumb stunt with Lou’s shoes, most of the other Rangers probably thought he was the culprit. Lou was sure to have laid the blame on him. Maybe even Lynn thought so. Why else would Lynn not have waited to ride home with him?
As he rode up his driveway, Daren heard his name called. He saw Gary Parnell standing by his driveway, his basketball under one arm and brand-new, fancy-looking sneakers on his feet.
“Hi, Daren! I got new shoes!” Gary’s eyes were bright with excitement, and he wore a big, happy grin.
Daren had forgotten about his agreement to help Judy’s little brother learn basketball, and he definitely didn’t feel like doing it — not now, at least. But he didn’t feel much like going in and facing his parents’ ques tions about practice, either. So he put away his bike and joined Gary in the Parnells’ yard.
Gary’s dad had put up a backboard and basket over their garage door. Gary waited, bouncing the ball awkwardly on the driveway pavement, as Daren approached.
“Can you show me how to do a jump shot?” asked Gary.
Daren shook his head. “Let’s start with something simpler. Something important, though.”
Gary looked a little disappointed, but he smiled and nodded. “Sure, Daren.”
“Okay,” Daren said, trying to forget his bad mood. “Let’s work on dribbling, okay?”
“Dribbling?” Gary’s face fell. “I already know how to dribble. Look!”
He bounced the ball hard off the pavement, staring at it the whole time. After a few bounces, it hit his foot and bounced into the bushes by the house. Gary ran after it, returned with the ball, and started bouncing it again, never letting his eyes leave the ball.
“See?” he said. “I dribble pretty good.”
“Actually, you’re doing it wrong. You don’t want to watch the ball while you dribble. If your eyes are always on the ball, you can’t see the court,” Daren pointed out. “You can’t see where anyone else is, either, on your team or the other team. You have to dribble without watching. Here, I’ll show you.”
He snatched Gary’s ball away in mid-bounce and started dribbling it, his eyes on Gary the whole time. He switched from right hand to left and back. He started with high, slow bounces, then speeded up, never looking at the ball.
“See? I’m watching the court and the other players while I dribble. Otherwise, I won’t know when to pass or whether some guy is going to try to steal the ball away from me.”
He turned away from Gary so that his body shielded the ball from the youngster. With one swift move, he pivoted, drove past Gary, and banked a soft layup off the backboard and through the hoop.
“Wow! That was neat!” Gary stared at Daren in awe. “Let me try!”
He bounced the basketball a few times, but his eyes stayed on the ball, and the third bounce went off his leg, straight to Daren.
Daren grabbed the ball. “Whoa! Take it easy, kid. There’s a difference between bouncing a basketball and dribbling it. Right now, you’re just bouncing the ball.”
He started bouncing the ball hard with his arm stiff and his palm flat.
“See?” said Daren. “That’s you.”
Gary blushed.
“Your hand is flat, like a Ping-Pong paddle. This is dribbling.”
Daren relaxed, his knees flexed, looking at Gary again.
“See?” he asked as he dribbled. “Look at my hands. See how my fingers are bent? They’re controlling the ball. And I don’t move my arm a lot when I dribble. My wrist does most of the work. You were doing this.” Daren began to slap at the ball with his arm and wrist straight. He made it look as awkward as he could.
Da
ren tossed the ball to Gary, who looked nervous. “Use your fingers more, instead of the palm of your hand. Okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Gary said, and began to bounce the ball again. He bounced it hard, and on the second bounce, the ball came up hard and bent his index finger back.
“Ow!” he yelled, shaking his hand. “That hurt!”
“What are you bouncing the ball so hard for?” Daren asked, smirking. “You trying to kill worms? Try again. Easier this time.”
Gary nodded slowly as he took the ball. He chewed on his lower lip, then with a deep breath, he tried to dribble. He got the ball bouncing well, but he kept looking at the ball.
Daren darted forward and stole the ball away. “What did I just tell you?” he demanded. “Don’t look at the ball! Do it again, and keep your eyes on me this time.”
He flipped the ball to Gary. The younger boy’s eyes were shiny, and he blinked rapidly. But he took the ball again and started bouncing it. He kept his eyes on Daren. The third bounce hit the edge of the driveway and flew into the bushes. Gary stared at Daren, who shook his head sadly.
“Great. I’m not sure if you’re going to learn to dribble first or kill the bushes in front of your house.”
Gary’s lower lip trembled. He turned, ran to his front door, yanked it open, and vanished inside. The door slammed.
Daren stared after him, shrugged, and went home. He had tried, but as far as he could see, Gary was not, and would never be, a basketball player.
He was working on his English homework a few minutes later when the phone in his room rang. It was Judy Parnell, and even over the phone, Daren could hear that she was mad.
“What happened with you and Gary?”
“Huh?” asked Daren. “I tried to give him a lesson, but it didn’t work out. Why?”
“Gary’s in his room, crying,” Judy said. “He won’t talk to me. What did you do to him?”
Daren felt angry. That’s what happens, he thought, when you do someone a favor. “I didn’t do anything to him! I told him what to do, and he didn’t do it. I told him again, and he still didn’t do it, and then he gave up and ran away.”
“I should have known better,” Judy said. “It’s my fault.”
Center Court Sting Page 2
