Billy let out a squeak of terror, pulled free of Tim’s grasp, lurched sideways into the doorway, and fled. Tim wanted to follow but couldn’t make his feet or legs work.
Then suddenly, the gymnasium flooded with light.
“Who’s there?”
A girl stepped through the doorway underneath the horrifying apparition. Tim was about to cry out a warning when he saw that the girl was holding a stick—and that the stick was attached to the ghost!
That’s when he recognized the ghost for what it really was: a very creepy papier-mâché clown puppet, complete with exaggerated smile, bulbous nose, and wide, staring eyes. Last year, the puppet had lived at the arts and crafts center. Tim would never admit it, but its presence was the main reason he’d disliked the place.
He recognized the girl then, too. “Wanda? Is that you?”
The girl blinked in surprise and then smiled. “Tim! Long time no see!”
Tim had met Wanda the summer before. Then, she’d had a mouth full of braces and been short and stocky. The braces were gone now, and although she only came up to Tim’s shoulders, she was slimmer. Her smile was just as warm and friendly as ever.
“What are you doing with that?” Tim asked, pointing to the clown head.
Wanda made a face. “Kim, my counselor, made me come get it. She wants to stick it in the latrines as a joke.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine opening the stall door and seeing this?”
Tim pulled back in mock horror. “As if the latrines weren’t bad enough already!” They laughed together.
“So now you know why I’m here,” Wanda said, leaning the clown head against the door frame. “How about you?”
Tim decided there was no harm in telling Wanda the truth.
“Hook shot, huh?” she said when he was finished. “That’ll be one tasty move to get under your belt.”
“Yeah, too bad I can’t work on it tonight,” Tim said. “My defender ran away when he saw ol’ clown face.”
Wanda tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I could help you,” she offered.
Tim considered accepting. Then he thought about how he’d feel if Wanda got in trouble because of him. So he shook his head.
“Thanks, but I don’t think so. Not because you’re a girl!” he added hurriedly when Wanda frowned. “I don’t have permission to be here. If I get caught—”
“I have permission,” Wanda interrupted. “If anyone comes by, I’ll just say you were helping me find the clown.”
When Tim still hesitated, she put her hands on her hips. “What? Don’t think I’m good enough?”
“I’m sure you’re a great basketball player,” Tim hastened to say. “But I really need to practice with someone a little, you know”—he gestured helplessly—“taller.” He hoped she wasn’t as sensitive about her height as he was about his.
To his relief, she burst out laughing. “Yeah, too bad I can’t grow a foot in the next minute! Although,” she added, “I could grow a head taller!”
She picked up the clown and held the stick so that the head was eyeball to eyeball with Tim. “How you like me now?” she growled, shaking the puppet and making a length of cloth attached to the clown’s neck flutter.
Tim chuckled. “Okay! I guess any practice is better than none—even though it means facing that!”
He found a basketball, and they moved to center court. Wanda got into the best stance she could while holding the puppet stick. Tim dribbled toward the three-point line. Wanda matched him step for step. The puppet actually did make her seem much bigger and taller; Tim held out his left arm to protect the ball, even though she couldn’t possibly go for a steal.
He reached the top corner of the key and set himself for the hook shot. Wanda stuck close to him, bobbing the puppet around in an imitation of a real defender. Tim tried to ignore it as he swept the ball up from his hip and sent it over the clown’s head and toward the hoop with a flick of his wrist. He landed, mentally crossing his fingers that the shot would hit its mark.
It hit, all right, but a spot high on the backboard instead of close to the hoop. It ricocheted off at an angle and landed on the opposite side of the court.
Tim shook his head in disgust and retrieved the ball. On his second attempt, the ball struck the front of the rim and bounced off. But the third time he took the hook, it flew in a perfect half circle before swishing cleanly through the strings.
“Yes!” Tim cried, jabbing a finger at the clown. “In your face, Gruber!”
Wanda laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?” She studied the clown’s face. “You know, I can see the resemblance! I hereby dub this creepy clown Gruber!”
“Works for me,” Tim said with a grin.
“That last hook shot was working for you, too,” Wanda said. She repositioned herself behind the clown. “Gruber and I are ready whenever you are!”
Tim practiced the hook shot for another twenty minutes. He used his right hand most of the time, only shifting to his left at Wanda’s suggestion. He bricked every attempt from that side. But when he started to get down on himself, Wanda made a joke or said the trouble was with Gruber the clown, not Tim.
They called it quits when Wanda realized she’d been away from her cabin for more than half an hour. They turned off the lights and went outside. She locked up the gym, bid Tim a hasty good-bye, and took off at a run. The puppet bounced above her, the cloth around its neck flying out behind it like a cape.
Seeing the cape reminded Tim of Keanu zooming around like a superhero. Too bad capes are only used in basketball during the NBA Slam Dunk contest, he thought as he walked back toward the Eagles Nest. I bet Keanu would like basketball if he got to wear one during practice. I can see him now: cape around his neck, arms reaching up as he leaps to take off in flight!
He chuckled at the image. Then suddenly, a new thought struck him. He stopped in his tracks. Arms up as he leaps, he mused. That’s how a defender blocks a shot. I wonder …