Chapter 36

Sam drove me to the game against Coronado. I had slept until about 10 minutes before we left and felt like a used dishrag. I wish I could wake up as fast as Pippin and Frodo. I guess that’s why adults drink so much coffee. I like the smell of the stuff, but I can’t stand the taste. Unless it’s one of those foofy coffee drinks—you know, the latte, frappé-whatevers. I like those.

As Sam drove, we listened to the radio and the latest about the attack on the girls. The guy’s picture had been on TV and in the paper, but the police still hadn’t found him.

I walked into the Coronado gym and looked for my teammates. Another game was going on, a blowout. The Coronado team sat across from us on the bleachers, and some of them tried to stare us down. Their big guy, #23, was already over six feet tall and had arms like tree limbs. Our tallest guy is 5’9”. Number 23 stretched on the sideline and listened to his coach as he studied us.

Coach Baldwin had told us not to worry about him, that he was going to get his points and rebounds, but if we could contain the rest of the team we had a good chance. Coach kept reminding us, “When he shoots, passes, breathes, whatever, get a hand in his face so he can’t see.”

They turned off the scoreboard toward the end of the game before us, and finally the slaughter was over. We took the floor and started our warm-ups.

“Goin’ down, Red Rock,” #23 said as he brushed past Duncan Swift and me. “Again.”