Center Court Sting (3 page)

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.

Daren 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.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Gary is eight years old,” Judy said, with ice in her voice. “Eight-year-olds aren’t usually great athletes yet. They have
small hands, and they can’t use them like bigger kids. Older kids ought to know that.

“I don’t know exactly what you said, but Gary looked up to you, and you really hurt his feelings. I hope you’re satisfied.
Thanks a lot!”

There was a loud
bang
in Daren’s ear as Judy slammed down the phone.

Daren hung up and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Why was everybody giving him a hard time? It wasn’t his fault the kid couldn’t play basketball, but Judy, just like everyone
else today, had to point the finger at him!

W
e can beat these guys,” said Coach Michaels to the Rangers sitting around him in the locker room. The game would start in
a few minutes. “But against the Blazers, we have to play our best defense. Keep your heads in the game, and help one another
on the court! Their big threat is Don Spratt. He can hit outside or get loose inside. Daren will guard him, but give him help.
Try to keep Spratt under wraps.”

“Right,” Lou Bettman whispered just loud enough for Daren to hear. “Daren needs all the help he can get.”

Daren heard him but kept quiet. With the threat of being benched hanging over his head, he was trying to do what the coach
wanted and hadn’t hassled Lou in days. Lou didn’t seem to care.

“Okay,” said the coach. “Take a minute, and think about what you have to do.” He walked into his office.

Once he was gone, Daren stood to warm up his legs. But he stopped in mid-stretch when he heard an angry voice snap, “Lay off
Daren, Lou. Keep your mind on the game.”

Daren was surprised to recognize the voice as Lynn’s. Lynn, who never lost his temper!

Shawn Howe jumped up to face Lynn. “Mind your own business,” he said. “Daren’s been on Lou’s case all season.”

Lynn took a step toward Shawn. “Guess you’d rather rag on Daren than win this game, huh? Real smart, Howe.”

“Will you cut it out?” demanded Peter
Stuber, a Ranger reserve guard. “Give it a rest, okay? We’re sick of it.
I
am, anyway.”

That shut everyone up. Daren gave Lynn a “thanks anyway” look, then went to his locker for his lucky towel. He’d had the old
towel, with his initials written on it in marking pen, for years. He kept it next to him on the bench during every game. Usually
it was in his locker before a game, but today it wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Andy!” Daren yelled. “Yo,
Higgins!”

The manager’s face peered out from behind a row of lockers. “Yeah?”

“Where’s my lucky towel?” Daren demanded.

Andy stared at him. “Isn’t it there?”

Daren rolled his eyes. “If it was
here
, would I ask you where it was, Sherlock?”

“Uh… I guess not…” Andy blinked and looked around. “I don’t know, Daren. Sorry.”

“Wonderful,” Daren said. “Great, Andy. All
you have to do is take care of the towels, and you can’t even do
that
right.”

“That’s not so! I have lots of stuff to —”

“Oh, forget it.” Daren turned away in disgust, leaving Andy standing there.

Coach Michaels came out of his office. “Okay, Rangers, let’s go.” He led the team onto the gym floor, where they got a cheer
from their home fans. As they warmed up, Daren tried not to think about the missing lucky towel.

During the early part of the game, Daren didn’t need luck. He had the hot hand, and Lynn found him and snapped sharp, accurate
passes in his direction. On the few times Daren missed the basket, Lou boxed out the Blazer center, Toby Flynn, and hit the
rebound. Lou was looking more like his old self, controlling the boards, and the Rangers were tough — at least on offense.

But the Blazers were also scoring. Don
Spratt was quick — so quick that Daren’s shorter legs simply couldn’t keep up.

To make things more difficult, the Blazers were the best passers that Daren had ever played against. They had the ball all
over the place, using bounce passes, crisp chest passes, and even the occasional long bomb. All the while, Spratt dodged and
feinted, moving in and out and across the key. When Spratt got loose, as he did almost every time the Blazers were on offense,
a teammate would get him the ball and he’d lay it up or sink a high-arching jump shot.

Daren was frustrated. Try as he might, he always seemed to be one step behind Spratt. His frustration mounted when Coach Michaels
put Shawn in to try to do better. Shawn was taller than Daren, but not as quick, and Spratt kept scoring. Shawn picked up
three fouls right away and had to come out.

Back on the court, Daren vowed to do
better. On their first offensive move down the court, he sneaked inside on the baseline. Cris Campbell saw him and fired
a perfect bounce pass past the Blazer defenders. Daren moved to put it up right away. But just as he released the ball, he
saw Don Spratt take off for the other basket, which distracted him for just a fraction of a second. His shot missed. Bucky
Manning, the Blazer point guard, snagged the rebound and threw a long baseball-type pass to Spratt, who was all alone underneath
to score.

At halftime, Daren was gasping, and the Blazers had a two-point lead. Daren couldn’t remember ever working harder in a game.
Though he had some points, Spratt had scored more. Just as the coach had anticipated, it was going to take more than one player
to keep Spratt in check.