Lacrosse Firestorm Read Online Free

already crowded with boys in line to pick up their meals. There were eight teams participating in the tournament
     and while each team slept in a separate section of the camp — the Rockets’ section was called Boulders, so named for the huge
     rocks that studded the deep woods behind their cabins — all the players ate together.
    “Hot dogs, french fries, and applesauce,” Todd announced as he craned his neck to see what was being served. “And they’ve
     got the soup, sandwich, and salad bar too. That’s where I’m headed.”
    The sandwich bar had all kinds of breads, meats, and cheeses. It also had tuna, chopped hard-boiled eggs, and different sorts
     of vegetables for salad. For soup there was New England clam chowder or chicken noodle.
    Garry tied his sweatshirt around his waist,grabbed a tray, plastic plate, and silverware, and followed his brother. He filled a submarine roll with sliced turkey, pickles,
     lettuce, and mayonnaise and then added a huge handful of potato chips and a dish of applesauce to his tray. At the drink counter,
     he selected a very full glass of lemonade.
    Eyes on his glass, he stepped back from the counter. As he did, his foot struck something. He stumbled. His tray flew out
     of his hands and landed on the floor with a loud crash. As he fell, lemonade, applesauce, turkey, and chips splattered all
     around him.
    He sat in the middle of the mess, stunned. Then he heard laughter. Everyone in the cafeteria had seen what had happened and
     was cracking up!
    “You sure are having trouble staying upright today, Wallis!” a voice drawled.
    It was Michael. He grinned wickedly andthen, with a very deliberate motion, lifted his foot and wiggled it. “Hmm, I wonder what you tripped over?”
    Fury raged through Garry. He balled his hands into fists and jumped up — only to slip in his applesauce and fall again.
    Michael doubled over with laughter. Evan, at Michael’s side as always, slapped his knees and roared gleefully. Other nearby
     boys were laughing, too.
    Garry wanted to die. Then he saw a hand reach down for him. He looked up, expecting to see his brother. But the hand belonged
     to Scottie.
    “Come on, Garry,” the goalkeeper urged. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Jeff and Todd appeared then and started to clean up the mess. “Go on, Garry,” his brother said. “We’ve got this!”
    So Garry stood up and, with Scottie clearinga path in front of him, hurried through the crowd and outside. Then Scottie looked back over his shoulder.
    “My coach is signaling to me,” he said. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
    Garry knew he should be grateful for Scottie’s help. But all he wanted was to be far away from everyone. So the minute Scottie
     went back inside, he took off. Boys he passed looked at him strangely, but he kept running, past his cabin and onto a trail
     that led into the woods behind it.
    The wide path quickly shrank to a scraggly dirt line barely visible in the thick brush. Garry slowed to a walk, breathing
     hard from the run and from anger.
    I hate Michael!
he fumed as he moved deeper into the forest. It was cool beneath the trees. He pulled his sweatshirt from around his waist,
     tugged it over his head,and kept walking. He spied a giant boulder and started toward it, kicking at roots and rocks as he went.
    Then suddenly,
twang!
His foot hit something metal. It was an overturned rusty bucket half buried in the dirt. He kicked it again and then again,
     venting his fury with each blow.
    One particularly vicious kick wrenched the bucket free of the ground. It bounced away with a clang. Garry was about to follow
     it when he saw something in the dirt where the bucket had been. He bent down to examine the object more closely.
    It was a small cardboard matchbox. The outside of the box was decorated with fish outlines and red-and-blue curlicues. SEAFOOD EMPORIUM! was emblazoned across the top. Along one side was a rough strike plate for lighting the matches.
    Garry picked