Night Hoops Read Online Free Page B
Author: Carl Deuker
him. If he missed he'd crash the boards, grab the rebound, and put up another shot. Power basketball, and Scott couldn't stop him.
Once Dad scored his eleventh point, Scott started off the court. "Where you going?" Dad asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
Scott wheeled around, frustration on his face. "Like I've been telling you for the last half hour, I've got to practice. That's why Katya's here, you know."
"Yeah?" Dad said. "Well, Katya can wait a few more minutes. I want to see you play Nick."
"Why?"
"Because I want to. Is that so much to ask?"
Scott gave Katya a look, sighed loudly, then turned to Dad. "One game?"
Dad nodded.
"And then I'm done."
"Then you're done."
Scott looked to me. "All right, Nick. Let's play."
I thought I'd win easily, that Scott would roll over to get the game finished so he could play his trumpet. I'd forgotten that Katya was watching.
In the beginning I think he forgot too. I scored the first three buckets, two on pull-up jumpers and one on a lay-in. But after the third hoop Katya called out, "Come on, Scott!" and I knew he was coming after me.
It was on the boards that he did it. He was taller than I was by four inches, and without a ref to call over-the-back fouls, he could pound away inside. He did to me exactly what Dad had done to him. A couple of times he bodied me right off the court.
Down 9â6, I backed up a step and sunk a long jumper. He shook his head. "Pure luck," he grumbled, but I swished another one, and then a third to tie it up.
That brought him right out on me, so close I could smell his sweat. I drove hard down the right side of the lane, then went behind the back and scooped up a little left-handed running hook that dropped. Score: 10â9, my lead. One more basket and I had him.
Again he guarded me tight, and again I drove the lane. Only this time I pulled up for the jump shot. He stayed with me though, and he swatted the ball out of the air. The ball was headed out of bounds, and it would have been my possession, but I hustled after it anyway, hustled because that's the way you win.
Scott watched me, not realizing what I was doing. So when I did grab the ball just before it went out-of-bounds, I was in the clear, so open in fact that I was afraid I'd choke the shot. I dribbled once to get some rhythm. Scott flew at me then, but he was way too late. I pulled the trigger. The ball soared high, tracing a beautiful rainbow, then fell out of the air, down and through. I'd beaten him.
As soon as the ball whistled through the net, Scott headed off the court. "You quitting?" Dad asked him, incredulous.
Scott didn't answer. Dad followed behind him as he headed up the back steps. "I don't understand you. Nick beats you in front of your girlfriend, and you don't even want a rematch."
Scott turned on him, his face contorted with anger. "What is it you want from me, Dad? What is it? You want me to be the big basketball star you never were. Is that it? Well, I'm not going to be. Got that? I'm not going to be. Maybe Nick will be, but I won't. So spend your time with him, and leave me alone."
The back door opened and Mom stepped out. I hadn't known she was home. I don't think Scott or Dad had known either. "What is all the screaming about?" she demanded, looking from Scott to Dad.
No one said anything. Scott looked at Dad, then turned to Katya. "Come on. Let's go downstairs."
"You're a quitter," Dad called after him. "You hear me! A quitter."
Mom stepped aside as Scott, red-faced with rage, stormed by her into the house. Katya followed him, her face pasty white. I stood on the court, holding the ball, looking from Mom to Dad and then back again to Mom. She was at the top of the stairs, her whole body quivering with fury, glaring at Dad. "What are you looking at?" he asked scornfully.
She studied him for a long time. "I don't know anymore. I just don't know." Then she went back inside the house, the door quietly clicking closed behind her.
Both Dad and I
Once Dad scored his eleventh point, Scott started off the court. "Where you going?" Dad asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
Scott wheeled around, frustration on his face. "Like I've been telling you for the last half hour, I've got to practice. That's why Katya's here, you know."
"Yeah?" Dad said. "Well, Katya can wait a few more minutes. I want to see you play Nick."
"Why?"
"Because I want to. Is that so much to ask?"
Scott gave Katya a look, sighed loudly, then turned to Dad. "One game?"
Dad nodded.
"And then I'm done."
"Then you're done."
Scott looked to me. "All right, Nick. Let's play."
I thought I'd win easily, that Scott would roll over to get the game finished so he could play his trumpet. I'd forgotten that Katya was watching.
In the beginning I think he forgot too. I scored the first three buckets, two on pull-up jumpers and one on a lay-in. But after the third hoop Katya called out, "Come on, Scott!" and I knew he was coming after me.
It was on the boards that he did it. He was taller than I was by four inches, and without a ref to call over-the-back fouls, he could pound away inside. He did to me exactly what Dad had done to him. A couple of times he bodied me right off the court.
Down 9â6, I backed up a step and sunk a long jumper. He shook his head. "Pure luck," he grumbled, but I swished another one, and then a third to tie it up.
That brought him right out on me, so close I could smell his sweat. I drove hard down the right side of the lane, then went behind the back and scooped up a little left-handed running hook that dropped. Score: 10â9, my lead. One more basket and I had him.
Again he guarded me tight, and again I drove the lane. Only this time I pulled up for the jump shot. He stayed with me though, and he swatted the ball out of the air. The ball was headed out of bounds, and it would have been my possession, but I hustled after it anyway, hustled because that's the way you win.
Scott watched me, not realizing what I was doing. So when I did grab the ball just before it went out-of-bounds, I was in the clear, so open in fact that I was afraid I'd choke the shot. I dribbled once to get some rhythm. Scott flew at me then, but he was way too late. I pulled the trigger. The ball soared high, tracing a beautiful rainbow, then fell out of the air, down and through. I'd beaten him.
As soon as the ball whistled through the net, Scott headed off the court. "You quitting?" Dad asked him, incredulous.
Scott didn't answer. Dad followed behind him as he headed up the back steps. "I don't understand you. Nick beats you in front of your girlfriend, and you don't even want a rematch."
Scott turned on him, his face contorted with anger. "What is it you want from me, Dad? What is it? You want me to be the big basketball star you never were. Is that it? Well, I'm not going to be. Got that? I'm not going to be. Maybe Nick will be, but I won't. So spend your time with him, and leave me alone."
The back door opened and Mom stepped out. I hadn't known she was home. I don't think Scott or Dad had known either. "What is all the screaming about?" she demanded, looking from Scott to Dad.
No one said anything. Scott looked at Dad, then turned to Katya. "Come on. Let's go downstairs."
"You're a quitter," Dad called after him. "You hear me! A quitter."
Mom stepped aside as Scott, red-faced with rage, stormed by her into the house. Katya followed him, her face pasty white. I stood on the court, holding the ball, looking from Mom to Dad and then back again to Mom. She was at the top of the stairs, her whole body quivering with fury, glaring at Dad. "What are you looking at?" he asked scornfully.
She studied him for a long time. "I don't know anymore. I just don't know." Then she went back inside the house, the door quietly clicking closed behind her.
Both Dad and I
Readers choose
Karen Noland
Nzingha Keyes
John Holroyd
Robyn Wideman
Rita Garcia
Shelly Crane
Marisa Oldham
Susan Wiggs
Terry Funk
Caterpillar