Lacrosse Firestorm
Read Lacrosse Firestorm Online
Authors: Matt Christopher
Copyright © 2008 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written
permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
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New York, NY 10017
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www.HachetteBookGroup.com
First eBook Edition: December 2009
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-09395-8
Contents
THE #1 SPORTS SERIES FOR KIDS: MATT CHRISTOPHER
®
W
hat’s
with
you, Wallis? Haven’t you ever held a lacrosse stick before?”
Garry Wallis shot an angry look at Michael Donofrio. He knew he should be used to his teammate’s big mouth; after all, Michael
was always ridiculing someone on the Rockets.
Usually, however, that someone was Garry’s brother, Todd. Todd had never played lacrosse until last spring. Then, he only
joined the Rockets to get some exercise and lose weight. At first, he was terrible, but thanks to some help from the coach’s
son, Jeff Hasbrouck, he began to improve.
But that didn’t stop Michael from bullying him. He thought Todd was dragging the team down — “dead weight,” Michael called
him, a jab at Todd’s size as well as his lack of skill — and he all but ordered Garry to force his brother to quit. When Garry
refused, Michael took matters into his own hands and slashed the webbing of Todd’s stick before a game!
That’s when Garry decided it was time to put Michael in his place. He knew Michael had set his sights on winning the league’s
top scorer award; he wanted to make sure Michael didn’t get it. Since plenty of other Rockets were sick of Michael’s attitude
too, they helped Garry with his “don’t pass to Michael” plan.
Michael was furious when he realized that no one was feeding him the ball. His anger grew when, at the season’s end, he wasn’t
the league’s top scorer.
“I know you’re behind it,” he had snarled at Garry after the last game. “And I’ll make you pay!”
After that, Garry had avoided Michael as best he could. Unfortunately, for the next week, he and Michael would be together
day and night.
The Rockets were taking part in a lacrosse tournament held at an overnight camp. And it was clear that Michael planned to
take every opportunity to make Garry’s life miserable.
Like now.
The Rockets were playing the Cougars in the first round of the two-game elimination tournament. It was the middle of the third
quarter and the Cougars led, 9–7. The Rockets needed to pull ahead; if they lost this game, and then one more, they would
be watching the rest of the tourney from the sidelines.
Garry was usually one of the Rockets’ better players. But right now, he was very tired — and not just from the exertion of
the game. He hadn’t slept well the night before.
Garry was sharing a four-bunk cabin with Todd, Jeff, and another boy named Conor. Conor was a fun kid and a decent player,
but he had one annoying trait: he snored all night long!
Todd and Jeff weren’t bothered by the noise because their bunk beds were on the other side of the cabin. Garry, however, was
right above Conor and for the past two nights he’d heard every last snort, nose whistle, wheeze, and rumble.
“It’s like someone’s turning a chain saw on and off next to my ear,” Garry whispered to Todd and Jeff at breakfast that morning.
“I can’t believe you guys don’t hear it!”
“So jam something in your ears at night,” Todd suggested.
“Like what, my fingers?”
“No, like earplugs,” Todd replied. “I’ll bet the health center has some.”
Garry nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. And if they don’t, I’ll wad up some toilet paper and stick that
in!”
“Just be sure it’s nice
new
toilet paper!” Jeff joked.
Garry got the earplugs later that morning. He stuck them in his sweatshirt pocket with a silent prayer that they’d help him
sleep better — and hopefully, wake up rested and back to his usual playing form. For right now, Garry was messing up badly
and giving Michael all the ammunition he needed to ridicule him on the field.
T
hanks to Garry’s lousy throw, the Cougars had possession of the ball and were running with it down the sidelines. Their left
wing attacker was stocky but surprisingly fast. He cradled the ball to one side of his body and held out his arm to block
any oncoming attacks.
Carl and Eric, two of the Rockets defensemen, formed just such an offensive. They charged the attacker together, stopping
him in his tracks.
The Cougar whirled and looked for someone
to pass to. He found his center midfielder in the clear and slashed his stick downward to send the ball his way.
Whap!
Jeff, the Rockets center middie, anticipated the throw and slapped the ball down to the ground before the Cougar could reach
it. The ball bounced through the grass toward Samuel, another Rockets midfielder. Samuel stuck his stick under it and scooped
it up. Now the action was headed toward the Cougars goal!
“Pass it up, already!” Michael screamed.
Samuel did, a line drive bomb that socked right into the pocket of Michael’s stick.
Michael cradled it, spun around, and dashed toward the crease.
A Cougars defenseman challenged him but then fell back a step when Michael didn’t slow down.
“Can’t see!” the Cougars goalkeeper yelled.
That was all the advantage Michael needed. He sidestepped past the defenseman and blasted a vicious shot toward the net. The
goalkeeper saw the ball coming and lunged to make the save, but was just a moment too late.
Goal!
The Rockets cheered and whooped. Michael acknowledged the praise with a fist pumped in the air. Then he ambled back to the
center X for the face-off. He passed Garry on the way.
“Wallis, since you’re not doing diddly out there today,” he growled, “just feed me the ball and get out of my way. Got it?”
“I’d rather eat my stick!” Garry snarled back.
“Really? See me after the game and I’ll feed it to you myself!”
“Good one, D-man,” Evan, the Rockets left midfielder, called. Evan was Michael’s
sidekick. Lately, he seemed to be trying to curry Michael’s favor by giving him different nicknames. It hadn’t worked as far
as Garry could tell. Michael still treated Evan like a lower life-form.
Jeff ran up behind them. “Knock it off, you guys,” he said to Garry and Michael, “and start acting like teammates, will you?”
The two boys exchanged one last angry look. Then Garry moved to the wing area and Michael to the center. The referee put the
ball on the X, stepped back, and blew his whistle.
Michael flipped his stick over the ball, twisted the head around, and sent the ball bounding over to Conor on the right.
“Weave!” he cried, the call for a three-man passing play down the field.
Conor snatched the ball from the grass and immediately started running toward the center of the field. As he did, Michael
came
toward him. Garry, meanwhile, prepared to receive the ball from Conor and then take his place in the center.
But Michael had other ideas. “Garry’s covered!” he yelled to Conor. “Pass back!”
Conor didn’t bother to look Garry’s way to see if Michael was telling the truth. If he had, he would have seen that Garry
had dodged past his defender and was, in fact, completely open.
Darn that Michael!
Garry thought furiously as he watched Michael get the ball back from Conor.
The weave would have worked if he wasn’t so selfish!
When two defenders stormed Michael from either side and broke up his attack, Garry couldn’t help grinning — even though it
meant the Rockets had missed out on a chance to score. Luckily, the Cougars bobbled their goal attempt and the Rockets reclaimed
possession. Two minutes and some quick passes later, the ball was in the Cougars net!
The third quarter ended with the Rockets within one goal of a win.
Coach Hasbrouck gave them a rousing pep talk during the short break and sent them back onto the field. Every Rocket out there
was determined to take the game away from the Cougars.
But as the clock ticked downward, the score remained tied. Ten minutes to go. Five. And still it stood at Cougars 9, Rockets
9.
Then the Rockets got a lucky break. A Cougars defender, thinking Evan had the ball, slammed into the middie from behind.
Tweet!
The referee blew a blast on his whistle and pointed a finger at the Cougar. “Illegal body check! One minute penalty!” he
shouted.
Coach Hasbrouck clapped madly from the sidelines. “Power play! Now’s your chance, Rockets!”
With two minutes left to go, the Cougars were one man down on the field. The Rockets front line went into action. Garry, Michael,
and Conor charged to the crease. Jeff sent the ball to Samuel, who carried it past the midfield line and rocketed it to Conor.
Conor flashed a quick, sharp shot to Michael. Michael turned on his heel as if to pass to Garry — only to turn back, square
up to the goal, and fake a shot. Evan streaked up behind Garry and received Michael’s pass. Michael then dashed across the
crease in front of Garry, and held up his stick for a return pass.
It was a tricky maneuver, one that called for Evan to make a perfect pass around Garry.
Unfortunately, Evan’s pass was far from perfect. Instead of landing in Michael’s
pocket, the ball flew over his head and right into the webbing of the goalie’s oversize stick head.
“Oh, good going, Wallis!” Evan fumed as they hustled back to help out the defense.
“What’re you blaming me for?” Garry returned angrily.
“You got in my way so I couldn’t see Michael!”
“Then you shouldn’t have tried passing to him!” Garry argued.
“Heads up!” Jeff’s warning came a second too late.
Blam!
The hard rubber lacrosse ball struck Garry right in the helmet! He saw stars as he fell to the ground. Then he saw a stick
reach past him and scoop up the ball. He wobbled to his feet just in time to see Michael race down the field, twist past two
defenders, and put the ball in the net — moments before the buzzer sounded to end the game!
The Rockets had won! They whooped, belly-bumped each other, and slapped jumping high fives. Todd helped his brother to his
feet and Garry celebrated along with his teammates — even though his head was ringing.
“Man,” he finally asked Jeff and Todd, “who threw that?”
Jeff started to answer but was interrupted.
“Nice assist, Wallis,” Michael drawled. “If I’d known you could use your head that way, I would have ricocheted one off your
helmet long ago!” Laughing, he sauntered away to receive his teammates’ congratulations.
Garry stared from his brother to Jeff and back again. “Michael threw that ball at my head on purpose, didn’t he?” he demanded.
“Garry, come on, it must have been an accident,” Jeff said.
“Had to have been,” Todd put in, “Michael wouldn’t —”
“Oh, he would, and you know it!” Garry was so angry he spat the words. “I can’t believe you, Todd, of all people, are sticking
up for him! And you,” he added, turning on Jeff, “I thought you were my friend!”
With that, he grabbed his gear and stormed away from the field, leaving Jeff and Todd staring at each other in disbelief.
G
arry avoided Todd and Jeff for the rest of the afternoon. At dinner, he made himself a sandwich and snuck out of the mess
hall with it rather than sit with his teammates. And that night, he jammed his new earplugs into his ears and pretended to
be asleep when the others called for him to join their campfire.
He must have really fallen asleep, though, for the next thing he knew it was morning. He sat up, feeling completely rested
— and completely foolish for the way he’d acted the night before. He found his brother and
Jeff at breakfast and slid onto the bench next to them.
“Um, hey there,” he mumbled. “Sorry about —”
Todd held up a hand. “ ’Nuff said. I’ve been there, remember? Just eat your breakfast.”