In the Paint (8 page)

Jackson looked surprised. “Who turned you in? Your little Chinese buddy or his wrinkly grandma?” McTavish laughed in the background.

“I went to Coach myself,” Matt said. “I told him I was there with you guys on Friday too.”

Both boys looked surprised. McTavish had a strange expression on his face, but Jackson simply appeared furious.

“Then you're even a bigger loser than I thought you were,” Jackson said, shooting out his right arm and shoving Matt off balance.

Matt sidestepped the older boy and continued down the hall. He didn't care what Jackson thought of him. At least he would be able to sleep that night.

chapter eleven

It was a case of extremely bad timing. The one game for which Mark was able to make it home from Eton was the game against Churchill. And that was also the game for which Matt had been suspended.

Matt couldn't remember being more disappointed. He had wanted his older brother to see him play so badly, to see how much he had improved since the previous summer. Instead, he had to settle for going to the game with his mom and his brother and watching from the stands as the Stingers took on the visiting Churchill Bulldogs. When South Side emerged from the locker room, Matt waved to Jake, Amar and Phil from his seat beside his mom and Mark. Andrea Thomas glanced his way from her spot on the bench and waved. Matt nodded back at her, hoping his mom hadn't noticed.

Churchill traditionally had a strong team, and this year was no different. They had six wins and three losses heading into the game, while South Side had lost once in nine starts, second only in the middle school league standings to the perfect record of the Middleton Marauders and their star Tommy Layne. Matt felt that the Stingers were a better all-around team than Middleton, despite their loss to the Marauders, but Churchill was a deep, well-rounded squad that was capable of giving even a full-strength South Side lineup trouble.

Without Jackson or Matt in the lineup, it was a long night for South Side. Churchill knew the Stingers were short of ball handlers and employed a full-court press for most of the game. None of the South Side guards, including Phil and Jake, who were seeing their first action with the varsity, could handle the pressure. South Side got off to a shaky start and trailed thirty to fifteen at the half.

Despite being with his brother and mother, Matt wasn't enjoying the game much. He wanted to be out there, and he felt bad for Phil and Jake who hadn't had much practice time before the game and weren't familiar with the varsity playbook. Matt had also wanted so badly to be able to show Mark what he could now do on the basketball court that missing this game was demoralizing.

It seemed to Matt like years since the two brothers had even shot hoops together. Since Mark had moved away to work in Eton, Matt had missed him more than he ever thought he would. They had regular contact by phone and e-mail, but it wasn't the same as being able to go for a walk or play catch at a moment's notice. And for Matt it was different being the “man” of the house now that his brother had moved out.

Matt stole a glance at Mark, sitting next to his mom in the bleachers. He wondered what he'd be doing when he was Mark's age, whether he'd be able to move away from home as his brother had. It all seemed so far away from his life in middle school.

As the white- and blue-clad Churchill dancers sped through their halftime number, kids and parents mingled near the gym floor and the concession table. Looking one section to his right, Matt noticed Grant Jackson and Steve White sitting together with a large group of friends. Andrew McTavish, who was serving a suspension like Matt, wasn't with them this time.

The group of boys were laughing loudly and horsing around in the bleachers, oblivious to the disruption they were causing for the folks sitting near them. As they continued, a couple of families got up and moved further down the stands.

Suddenly, Jackson stood up and glared in Matt's direction. Something looked different about him tonight. It was something in his eyes and the unsteady way he was standing.

“Hey, Hill, who's your date?” Jackson laughed, eyeing Matt's mom. “She's real pretty.” His friends beside him snickered.

Matt's ears burned and he flushed with embarrassment. He couldn't let this go, not in front of most of the school. But what should he do?

Before Jackson could sit down, Mark stood up beside Matt and his mother. The sight of Mark's six-foot-three frame, chiseled from long days of work on the oil rigs, was enough to silence Jackson. A few minutes later, he and his crew slid quietly out the gym door.

Matt and his family watched the rest of the game in peace. But there wasn't much to cheer about as South Side fell fifty to thirty-eight to Churchill. Despite a much better second-half performance, the poor start was just too much for the Stingers to overcome. It was so difficult for Matt to watch his teammates struggling out there, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

Matt's mom had to show a house to clients right after the game, so Mark told her he would drive Matt home. He was staying for the whole weekend, which was nice for Mom. While Matt found himself missing his older brother a lot of the time, he knew it was much worse for her. “Hey, bro, let's go for a pizza,” Mark said as they pulled out of the school parking lot in his blue pickup. “I'm buying.”

They sat in the back booth at Classico's, the neighborhood pizza place that they had been going to for years. They ordered their old standard — an extra-large double cheese, double pepperoni and onions — and a couple of Cokes. It felt good to be with Mark, who shared the same wavy hair as he and his mother but who had inherited the lanky height and the deep blue eyes of their father. Mark always seemed to have a calm, balanced approach to everything, even if he did bring his laundry home from Eton whenever he visited.

“You guys have a decent team,” Mark said, eyeing his little brother across the booth. “Probably a lot better when you're actually playing, though.”

Matt was happy for the compliment. He told Mark he was looking forward to the final part of the season. The Stingers had eight wins and two losses and still had a shot at first place over their last six games.

“You've got a bit of a problem with that one kid, though,” Mark said. “He was drunk tonight. I walked by those guys on the way to the concession before the game and you could smell it fifteen feet away.”

For a second, Matt didn't follow what his brother was saying. Then it clicked. Mark was talking about Grant Jackson. So that's why Jackson had seemed different tonight, thought Matt. He hadn't had a lot of experience with alcohol — just a brief taste of leftover beers when he did the coat check with the Boy Scouts at a New Year's Eve dance the previous year — and this was the first time somebody at his school had been drunk, at least the first time he'd known about it.

Matt explained the background with Jackson, rehashing the night of the tagging at Phil's store. He told Mark that Jackson had seemed to have it in for him since the incident in Anderson Park last summer.

“You have to keep your eye on that kid,” Mark said. “He's trouble. Just make sure that you don't get sucked into fighting with him. He just wants to take as many people down with him as he can. Stay away from him and make sure your real friends are around you most of the time.”

Matt thought it sounded like good advice. He didn't plan on being anywhere around Grant Jackson if he could help it.

Matt and Andrew McTavish returned for the Stingers' next game, a rematch with the Central Wildcats, whom they had beaten in their season-opener.

With the two starters back in the lineup, South Side had no problem with the Wildcats even though Central's crowded, humid gym could at times be a hostile place to play. McTavish scored the game's first basket on an assist from Matt, and South Side never trailed, rolling their way to a fifty-six to forty win.

It marked the first time that Matt, Jake, Phil and Amar had played together in a varsity middle school game, and it was memorable. During garbage time at the end of the second half, Coach Stephens had put the four grade sevens on the floor all at once. And on one fast-break play, the ball had ping-ponged between the friends all the way upcourt before ending in a power lay-up by Amar that was so close to being an actual dunk that it seemed to stun the Central crowd into submission. It felt just like one of those dreamy summer days at Anderson Park.

Without Jackson and White in the lineup, the Stingers had also become a much less star-centered and a much more team-oriented bunch. Their best player now was steady grade nine center Dave Tanner, who was averaging fifteen points and eight rebounds a game and who had proven to be a terrific, even-tempered leader. But everybody else was contributing too, right down to Andrea Thomas, the team manager, who had practically become one of the guys as the season wore on.

South Side rolled off four more wins in a row, to run up a thirteen-and-two record heading into the final game of the regular season, a first-place showdown with Churchill, this time on the Bulldogs' home court in the northeast end of the city. Churchill and South Side had emerged as the top two teams in the league after Middleton faltered during the second half of the season because of an ankle injury to Tommy Layne.

Churchill, named after the leader of Great Britain during World War II, was the oldest middle school in the city and the Bulldogs were a traditional powerhouse. Their gymnasium was nicknamed The Dawg Pound and was typically jammed. For this showdown with South Side, people were actually lined up outside a half hour before tip-off, waiting to get a good seat. As the Stingers passed the lineup on their way into the locker room, Matt felt a surge of excitement. This would be the kind of atmosphere he and his friends had always dreamed about playing basketball in.

Matt had played well during the season-closing stretch, averaging twelve points and six assists and taking good care of the basketball. He felt ready for the match-up with Churchill, which was led by center Scott Parkins, a talented six-foot-four grade nine who was being widely touted as a future city high school star.

Nobody on the Stingers team could physically match up with Parkins, who was two inches taller and twenty pounds heavier than Tanner, the South Side center. But Tanner was smart, defensively dependable and, for the most part, able to play Parkins to a standstill.

South Side managed to play Churchill to a twenty-six to twenty-six deadlock at the half, with ten points from Matt, who was easily beating his man to the basket. But Parkins came alive in the second half, hitting a series of soft hook shots over Tanner to give the Bulldogs a five-point lead with just two minutes left.

Coach Stephens signaled for a time-out, calling the Stingers over to the bench. He then looked down the bench and summoned Phil into the game to replace Pete Winters, who had been cold from outside. Phil looked a little surprised, but he jumped up, unbuttoned his warm-up pants and rubbed his hands together to warm his fingers.

The coach didn't have much to say. “The big things are defense and rebounding,” he said. “If we guard hard and get the boards, the offense will take care of itself. But we have to want the ball.” His players nodded.

On the ensuing possession, Matt dribbled across the top of the three-point circle. His check was playing him too tightly, so he juked left and began to drive right where a hole had opened up down the lane. The defender from the right wing slid over to try and stop Matt, leaving Phil wide open behind the three-point line. Matt found his friend with a perfect pass. Phil set himself and then launched the ball. It arced high before swishing through the net. Churchill's lead had been cut to two.

The Bulldogs worked the ball patiently upcourt with only a minute remaining. The fans began chanting, “Bull-Dogs! Bull-Dogs!” until it was almost deafening. They wound down the thirty-second shot clock to about eight and then found Parkins posted at the top of the key with Tanner playing behind him. Parkins made a nice pivot and began to swing around for what looked like an easy three-foot hook shot. But Tanner managed to reach out and stab the ball just enough to knock it out of the Churchill center's grasp.

Matt saw the ball, floating loose in the air as if it were suspended. He didn't hesitate, launching his body toward the ball and wrapping his hands around it as he crashed to the floor, sandwiched between the burly Parkins and another Churchill player.

The referee blew his whistle and signaled it was South Side's ball. Coach Stephens called for his team's final time-out.

Trailing by two points, at fifty to forty-eight, with just thirty seconds left, the coach wanted to go for the safe play. In the huddle, his instructions were simple. “Matt, you handle the ball unless you're doubled,” he said. “When the clock is at about ten seconds, get it to Dave. McTavish, you set a screen low for Tanner and free him up. Okay? Let's go.”

Matt took the inbounds pass from Phil. He worked it upcourt, slowly, patiently. With thirteen seconds left, McTavish set a textbook screen for Tanner, but Churchill was clearly expecting the play. Two defenders collapsed on the South Side center at the top of the key. The result left McTavish all alone near the baseline.

Matt didn't hesitate. Even though he was open himself, McTavish was more so. He fired a bullet inside that the lanky grade nine forward caught. McTavish spun toward the hoop and laid it in as a flying Parkins crashed into him.

The referee's whistle blew. He was motioning down with his hand. The basket counted, and McTavish would go to the line for a free throw with one second left. Matt stepped forward. At this moment, it didn't matter that the player shooting was Andrew McTavish. He was a Stinger and he was a teammate. “Let's go, Macker. Wrap it up,” he grinned.

McTavish smiled back. He stepped to the line. For a second, the steamy gym seemed to freeze. He launched the free throw. It bounced three times gently on the rim before falling through the hoop. South Side had won the game fifty-one to fifty and taken the regular season championship.