Summer Ball (8 page)

It was why Coach Powers was blowing his whistle about every two minutes, or so it seemed to Danny, constantly stopping the action and pointing out another bad decision or bad pass.

Blowing the whistle and barking, “Time out, Walker.”

It wasn't long before Danny thought his name had been legally changed to Time Out Walker.

He wasn't the only one being singled out. Will couldn't do anything to satisfy this coach either. It seemed that whenever Will got an open look, he kept throwing the ball in the lake.

“I thought from the scouting report you were a shooter, Mr. Stoddard,” Coach Powers said, surprising them by getting Will's name right.

“Me, too,” Will said.

But everybody on the court knew something. No matter how much Coach Powers picked on the other guys, Danny was the one getting picked on the most.

The more whistles he got, the worse he played.

 

Practice was supposed to end at five o'clock sharp. At a few minutes before five, Coach told them to huddle up, they were going to pretend that the game was tied, one minute left, Rasheed's team with the ball. “Maybe if we do it this way,” he said, “the Walker team can get me a stop before we call it a day.”

Now it was the Walker team.

Danny ignored him, motioned for his guys to get around him: Will, Bobby Lowell, Alex Westphal, the closest thing they had to a center on the second team. And Tarik.

“Ask you something, Walker?” Tarik said in the huddle. “You slash the coach's tires and he found out about it?”

Will said, “When you threw that behind-the-back pass a few minutes ago? I thought his head was going to explode.”

“Forget all that and listen up,” Danny said, keeping his voice low. “And just for your information, behind the back was the only angle I had to get you the ball on the wing.”

“Still—” Will said.

“Listen up!” Danny snapped at him, getting his friend's attention in the process and everybody else's.

Will's reaction was to break out into a huge smile. “I've been waiting for Coach Walker to show up,” he said. “Because I sure have missed him.”

Danny said that Rasheed's team would do what they'd been doing all day: run through the offense one time, look like they were starting it again, then go right to a high pick-and-roll.

“Even though we've all been acting like these were the first pick-and-rolls we've ever seen,” Danny said, “we're going to take it away from them now.”

“We are?” Tarik said. He turned and looked at where Rasheed's team was standing, waiting for them. “Who chose up these sides, anyway?”

Danny nodded at Powers. “He did. Mr. Basketball. But now we're going to give him and those other guys something to think about for tomorrow.”

Then he laid out what he expected them all to do. When he finished, Alex Westphal said, “Dude.”

Rasheed brought the ball up, Danny on him. Rasheed passed it to Cole Duncan, who gave it right back to him, then ran through to the opposite corner.

Danny was thinking,
He might as well run all the way to Vermont. That's the last touch he's getting, even in a pretend game.

Rasheed passed it to David Upshaw, now at the foul line, who passed it to Ben Coltrane on the right wing. Rasheed ran through, came back, got the ball back up top. Right on cue, here came David, all 6-3 of him, built like one of those tank-looking Hummers, to set the killer screen he'd been setting on Danny all day.

Except that before he got to Danny, Will Stoddard, coming from the weak side, cut him off.

A defensive guy setting a pick on an offensive guy.

“Hey,” Danny heard David Upshaw say, “What the—?”

David's man, Alex Westphal, then ran around both of them, cutting Rasheed off on his left. Danny already had him cut off if he tried to go to his right. Will stayed home, right in front of Rasheed.

Danny watched Rasheed's eyes, knowing what he knew: There had to be a whole bunch of his teammates open somewhere.

As soon as he hesitated, Danny reached in and for the first time all day, flicked the ball away from him, got a real good slap on it, knocking it toward the other basket.

For a second, Danny had a clear path to the ball, and to a layup.

Until Will went for the ball, too, and the two of them collided.

Big scramble now for the loose ball, bodies flying, what felt like all ten players on the court going for it, into it now, like this wasn't a pretend game at all, it was the real thing.

Somehow, pure luck, the ball ended up back in Rasheed's hands on the far left swing, about thirty feet from the basket.

Danny gave a quick look behind him, saw there was nobody on his team defending their basket, started backing up as fast as he could.

Rasheed Hill smiled then, the first time Danny had seen him change expression since he'd gotten here.

Just the two of them.

Rasheed's smile saying, Me and you.

Not exactly the way it had ended up when Rasheed fouled out in Carolina, but close enough. All day long from this side of the court, Rasheed had started off dribbling with his left hand, like he was going left, then crossed over to his right, attacking the basket that way. But Danny had a feeling he'd try to cross him up this time, go left all the way.

And maybe Danny still had the eye after all, because Rasheed
did
come hard to the basket off a left-hand dribble.

Danny beat him to the spot.

Danny beat him there, set himself, ready to take the charge if he had to, or at least make Rasheed pull up for a jumper.

But he wasn't pulling up, he was going straight at Danny and straight at the basket, elevating now, exploding into the air the way he could, putting his right knee into Danny's chest as he did, knocking Danny back as easily as a bowling ball knocks over a pin. Danny flew backward, twisting out of control, feeling himself going down in slow motion, unable to break his fall, and landed hard on his right knee.

Before he hit the ground, before his head snapped back on the court, he had a perfect view of Rasheed continuing to fly toward the basket, laying the ball in, no backboard, all net.

The only thing Coach Powers said after what Danny knew was a textbook offensive foul against Rasheed was, “Ballgame.”

“But, Coach!” Danny yelled, rolling up into a sitting position.

“Are you okay there, Mr. Walker?” Coach Powers said.

For the last time that day, Danny felt everybody on the whole team looking at him, knew that if he said anything more, he'd just lose again. He wasn't okay. His right knee was killing him. But he wasn't going to tell Coach Powers that, or act like he wanted any sympathy.

“Perfect,” he said.

“Anything else on your mind?”

Danny put his head down, almost like he was talking to himself.

“No, sir.”

“Didn't think so,” Coach said. “Because I know you want the players to decide the game, not the ref. See you in the morning.”

And walked away.

Danny, arms hanging over his knees, feeling as if his head was about to split wide open, didn't move. He was trying to decide whether his head hurt the most or his knee.

Tarik Meminger came over.

“Before I say anything, you really okay?”

“I'm okay.”

Tarik reached down to help Danny up, then grinned and said, “Look at you, dog. 'Sheed turned you into a damn speed bump.”

T
HEY WERE GIVEN THE OPTION ON
W
EDNESDAY NIGHT OF EITHER
going into Cedarville and walking around town for a couple of hours, or going to Casco, the next town over, where the one theater was showing the new
Batman
. There was a lot more interest in the movie, so two of the yellow Right Way buses transported those guys. The other bus and the vans were used for the Cedarville run, the counselors doing the driving.

The van Nick had used to drive Danny and the guys from the airport the first day sat eight passengers if everybody squeezed. Now Nick drove this group into Cedarville: Danny, Will, Ty, Tarik, Alex Westphal, the two Boston kids from Ty's team, Jack Arnold and Chris Lambert.

And Zach Fox.

Danny had invited Zach to come along with them, even though most of the kids from Gampel had chosen the movie.

“Okay,” Will said when Danny told him Zach was part of the plan. “You've officially locked up Camper of the Week. Congratulations.”

“Just be nice,” Danny said.

“Won't be necessary,” Will said. “You're nice enough for all of us.”

They saw a lot of other Right Way kids walking up and down the streets of Cedarville's small downtown area, which seemed to extend for about four blocks. There was one general store—it was easy to find, since it said
THE GENERAL STORE
on the sign out front—that had candy and magazines and a whole wall covered with comic books, more comic books than Danny had ever seen in one place. He'd never been much of a comic book guy—hardly anybody their age was—but he could tell just by looking at some of the Supermans and Batmans and Fantastic Fours that they were real old.

Will bought a Spider-Man.

Ty said, “Hold on. You said you were done with old Spidey after Dr. Octopus looked so lame in the second movie.”

“
Spidey 2
was lame,” he said. Then he held up the comic book and said, “This, however, is a classic.”

He had a way of drawing the word out so it sounded as if it had a lot more syllables than it really did.

Classic
was the highest possible praise from Will, whether they were talking about sports or music or movies or which flavor of Ben and Jerry's was best. You might have another flavor you thought was better, but once he proclaimed Phish Food classic, he was pretty much saying the debate was over.

Now he and Tarik, still trying to outtalk each other, the way they had from the day they met, tried to figure out whether
classic
was even better than
wet
.

“It's like my mom says about stuff all the time,” Danny said to Ty, nodding at Will and Tarik, “it must've been destiny that brought them together.”

The ice cream parlor they found a few doors down from the general store was also classic, right down to its name: Pops.

Standing outside, Ty said, “This whole town reminds me of the
Back to the Future
town they went to and nobody could figure out why Marty had a skateboard.”

There was a lot of outdoor seating at Pops, and most of the tables were full because the weather was so nice. Indoors, though, was better, mostly because it reminded Danny and Will and Ty so much of their headquarters back in Middletown, the Candy Kitchen. There was a long counter with swivel seats, homemade ice cream being served, even an old-fashioned movie popcorn machine next to the cash register.

Danny was with Will, Zach and Tarik in one booth. Ty and the other guys had the next one. Everybody in the group had camp war stories to tell, even after just three days at Right Way, stories about coaches, counselors, bathrooms, showers, food, the kid in the next bed snoring or making a noise much worse than that in the night, body odor, dorko questions from parents relayed by kids who'd called home already, how this guy or that guy or the other guy was overrated. Or how some fifteen-year-old had blown them away and was just going to absolutely dominate everybody before he went off to Duke or Carolina or Kentucky or UConn.

You heard the word
dominate
a lot at Pops.

Almost as much as you heard about Jeff LeBow's nonstop peppiness and how he seemed to be everywhere at once.

“Lemme explain something to you all,” Tarik said. “Nobody is that happy.
Nobody
.”

Will said, “Take his bullhorn away, I guarantee you, it's like that deal with Samson's hair. The guy's got nothin'.”

Pretty soon they were laughing about everything that had happened so far, filling up the inside of Pops with happy summer noise.

This was more like it, Danny thought, hanging this way, not just with his Middletown friends. This was more what he imagined camp might be like, even if he had to get away from it for a couple of hours to feel this way.

Tarik was across the table from Danny, facing the door. All of a sudden his eyes got real wide and he said, “Uh-oh. Coach Powers.”

Danny dropped the long spoon he'd been using to get the last ice cream out of the bottom of his root beer float. His head whipped around as if it was one of the swivel chairs at the counter.

No one there.

Everybody, both booths, laughed. Danny couldn't help it, he had to laugh with them. And at himself.

“Got you, dog,” Tarik said. “Got you bad.”

“Only one problem,” Will said, head down.

“What?”

“You thought of it first.”

“Knew from the first day I met you I had to elevate my comedy,” Tarik said.

“Well, you certainly did that tonight with your hair,” Will said.

Tarik had let out his cornrows and now had an Afro that seemed to add about five inches to his height.

Tarik said, “Don't be talking about
my
hair with that hat hair you go through life with.”

They all finished up their ice cream and drinks, knowing they still had an hour before they were supposed to meet Nick where he'd parked the van. Jack said he'd spotted a video arcade at the miniature golf place at the end of town, down by the lake.

They started walking in that direction, Jack and Chris wanting to know about Coach Powers, Danny and Will and Tarik laying it all out for them.

“Why can't you just ask for a different team?” Zach said.

“Doesn't work that way,” Danny said. “They don't have free agency here.”

“Man talks about playing basketball his way,” Tarik said. “Seems to be because he can only see basketball one way. Like it's supposed to be one of those connect-the-dots pictures we all had to draw when we were little.”

“Except when Rasheed wants to bust a play,” Will said. “Then Coach My Way tends to look the other way.”

“I know you talk to Rasheed,” Danny said to Tarik. “How can he stand this guy?”

Tarik smiled. “Doesn't work that way with 'Sheed. He doesn't stand, sit or care. He told me that he can get with any kind of program, 'cause he's seen his man Iverson do the same thing. And he says no coach is ever gonna hold him back, anyhow, any way.”

“He told you all that at one time?” Will said.

“Well,
over
time,” Tarik said. “The brother said he wasn't going to worry himself about the coach he was playing for, because there's too many college coaches here watchin'.”

“There's going to be a lot more of him to see if he's out there for three quarters and some of us are only out for one,” Danny said.

Jeff had announced the first day they were with their teams that this wasn't YMCA ball back home. You didn't automatically get to play half the game. You were only guaranteed one quarter in the league games, and whatever you got after that, you had to earn.

Ty said to Danny, “You'll figure it out. You always have before.”

Danny said to Ty, “Now
you
sound like my dad.”

Ty's response was to point off to their right. “Hey, check it out.”

The town of Cedarville was on the north side of Coffee Lake, Nick had informed them on the ride over. The miniature golf place and video arcade were at the very end of the downtown area, in a tiny harbor. A couple hundred yards before you got there, on the lakeside, was a white wooden Congregational church with a steeple that seemed to be the highest point in Cedarville.

Behind the church, Ty had spotted a basketball court, nobody on it.

“You're kidding, right?” Will said, as if he'd already read Ty's mind.

“About what?” Ty said, trying to act innocent.

“Well, look at that,” Danny said. “A basketball court. A full basketball court. With nets.”

“Oh, don't tell me this,” Will said. “Don't tell me that just when we've gotten away from ball, you guys now want to play ball.”

Danny ignored him, said to the rest of them, “Okay, who's up for a game?”

Will said, “You've been telling me since you got run over that your knee is killing you.”

“I iced it.”

“I know you think ice cures everything except strep throat,” Will said, “but it's still swollen. You can't possibly want to play when we're on, like, recess.”

Danny grinned. “Do you think you're, like, talking to some other Danny Walker?”

They took a vote. Everybody else was up for a game, so Will reluctantly went along.

“One problem, however,” Danny said. “No ball.”

Alex said, “I think I might have seen a couple at the general store.”

But Zach said, “We don't need to buy a ball. I brought mine, remember?”

Zach always seemed to be carrying a ball with him, or dribbling one. Everybody at camp had noticed by now. Even though he kept saying he didn't want to be at basketball camp, it was as if having a basketball with him was some kind of security blanket.

When it was time to leave for town, he had his ball with him, as usual, and didn't want to take time to run back down to Gampel and stash it.

“Zach,” Danny said, “you are the man.”

“And you,” Will said to Danny, “are truly sick. And I don't mean the good sick.” He pointed at Danny's knee.

Danny made a move like he was a soccer-style kicker. “Actually, I feel better all of a sudden.”

Zach said he'd run back up the street to where the van was parked, be right back with his ball.

“Hurry up,” Will said. “We're timing you.” When Danny gave him another elbow, Will added, “Hey, I time my little brother on stuff all the time.”

But Zach must have taken him seriously, because he was back with the ball in about a minute, face red, completely out of breath, looking totally pleased with himself.

That kind of night
, Danny thought.
Even Zach Fox, camp-hater, is happy.

And for an hour before they had to get back in the van, without any whistles blowing, without Coach Ed Powers busting his chops, he wasn't Time Out Walker anymore. Danny was happy, too. He had Zach with him and Ty and Alex. Shirts against the skins.

Like they were back at McFeeley Park in Middletown.

For an hour, behind the Congregational church down by the lake in Cedarville, Maine, basketball was fun again, the way it was supposed to be.

The way it used to be.

The feeling lasted until the next afternoon, when Danny's team scrimmaged Ty's team at The House.

Of horrors.