Chapter 14

I wrote my story during lunch the next day—at least I tried to write it. Words don’t come as quickly for me as they do for Ashley. She takes more after Mom, I guess. When I write a story or an essay, choosing words is like picking blackberries. I have to reach in and avoid the thorns, wondering if there’s a snake back there somewhere, and when I’m sure it’s okay, I write one down.

I named my character Chet Becker, because I’d known a kid with that name in Illinois, and I had him sink every shot he took. By the end of the story, Chet had scored 70 points and had 20 steals.

What had really happened to me wasn’t that spectacular. It was actually awful. You should know that I’m not a great athlete. I’m kind of dorky looking, with long arms and gangly legs, but Sam told me about this guy named Larry Bird who used to play for the Boston Celtics. Sam said Bird looked like somebody taken right off the farm, but when they put a basketball in his hands he knew what to do. That’s how I wanted to play.

Anyway, our team had fought Coronado the whole game, trying to keep them from getting the ball to their big man, #23. We were down only a point with 17 seconds left when #23 clunked one off the rim and I got the rebound. I threw the ball to Duncan Swift, and he brought it across half-court and called a time-out. Now we had 13 seconds.

Coach Baldwin called a play and told me to throw the ball inbounds. Everybody on the court and in the stands knew Duncan was going to take the shot, because he’s our best player. It was my job to throw it to him and get in position in case Coronado double- or triple-teamed him.

After the buzzer sounded, the ref handed me the ball and started his five count. Duncan gave a head fake and darted into the backcourt, and I tossed him the ball. But he didn’t turn when I expected, and the ball bounced off his shoulder and into the hands of a Coronado player. It took six seconds for me to catch the guy and foul him. He sank both shots, and there was only enough time for a desperation heave at the end, which Duncan almost made.

The coach tried to make us feel better in the locker room, but I could hardly breathe. Everybody patted me on the back and said I had a good game, but I knew I’d blown it. I couldn’t wait until the next time we’d meet, coming up Saturday.