Chinese Handcuffs Read Online Free Page B

hands up at least.
    Out on the court the girls ran quarter-, half-, and full-court sprints alternately, and Jennifer Lawless led them all by a furlong, her face impassive, showing no sign of the burning pain in her legs and lungs.
    â€œWord has it she’s not bad on the academic front, too. Is that right?” Wakefield asked.
    Boy, this guy is one incisive interrogater, Kathy thought. Saying Jen is “not bad” on the academic front is like saying Jerry Falwell trifles in fundamental Christianity. “Close to a four-point,” Coach said patiently. “She’s a National Merit Scholar finalist andprobably the only athlete in school who’s won a letter in every sport every year, two years at her old school in the Midwest and now two years here. I wish we’d had her all four years.” At this point the coach’s demeanor became exaggeratedly expansive as she stretched her arms out over the gymnasium floor, teasing Wakefield. “As far as her total high school record goes, Jennifer Lawless’s sweat smells like a blend of the finest French perfumes.” She dropped her hands and looked back at Wakefield. At the end of the bench Dillon Hemingway, applying reinforcing tape to a second stringer’s ankle, raised his eyebrows in surprise and let out a loud guffaw.
    â€œCan I quote that?” Wakefield asked.
    â€œAbout her record,” Coach Sherman said, “not about her sweat.”
    Wakefield smiled and shook his head, looking back to his notepad. “So, is she coachable?”
    â€œIs a five-pound gerbil fat? The only problem I ever have is getting her to back off her intensity, and it’s seldom you’ll hear me complain about that.”
    Wakefield scribbled furiously for a few moments, then looked up to watch the action on the court. While fatigue, bordering on desperation, reigned prominently on the faces of the other players continuing the fierce conditioning drills, Jennifer clearly pulled away fromthem, seeming to gather energy rather than fade.
    Visibly impressed, Wakefield turned back to the coach. “So, how do you plan to play Renee Halfmoon?”
    â€œI don’t plan to play Renee Halfmoon,” Kathy answered patiently. “I plan to play Wenatchee.”
    â€œCoach, I realize you coach from a complete team concept and all that, but you must know this girl is almost impossible to stop.”
    â€œThat may be so, but if we concentrate on one player, the rest of her team will kick our butts.” Coach smiled and patted the reporter on the shoulder. “Listen, Scotty, write this down. We’re a running team; they’re a running team. They have one of the best athletes in the state, and we have one of the best athletes in the state, both at the same position. Either team would be in the top ten without Jen or Renee Halfmoon. If the teams are up and Renee and Jen are up, well, when Saturday night rolls around, you best wear your boots and bring your shootin’ iron. Guaranteed.”
    Â 
    Jennifer Lawless read her coach’s comments in the Free Press and smiled. She read them again as she cut them out and placed them on her desk along with articles sent by relatives and friends from all over. It was asif every prep school sports reporter from either side of Washington State had discovered girls’ basketball in the same week as Wakefield. This was only the halfway point in the season, but because of geography, it might be the only time all year that Chief Joseph and Wenatchee would play each other—her only shot at Renee Halfmoon. Jennifer looked forward to it like nothing so far in her life.
    The knock on her bedroom door froze her insides, as always, and she hesitated before answering, in as near normal a voice as she could. “Who goes?”
    â€œI goes,” came the answer. Her sister, Dawn. “Can I come in?”
    â€œSure. Just a sec.” Jennifer got up from the desk and moved to the latch