Miracle on 49th Street by Mike Lupica Read Free Book Online Page A

pocket. Not that it did me much good yesterday.”
    â€œGood,” he said. “Now we just have to hope he’s in the locker room when we get to go in there and not hiding in the players’ lounge.”
    Josh Cameron wasn’t in the locker room. Sam whispered the names of the guys who were there, as if he were taking attendance. Teddy Wright, L. J. Brown, Nick Tutts. The PR man quickly moved Molly and Sam from one guy to the next, then got them out of there.
    But no Josh.
    â€œNow what?” Sam said when they were back outside, having met the handful of players who were in front of their lockers. “Plan B was you handing him the letter.”
    â€œI’ve got another plan,” Molly said.
    Sam said, “Oh, goody.”
    â€œPlan C,” Molly said.
    Then she told him what the C stood for.

CHAPTER 7
    E ver since she had learned the truth about Josh Cameron, Molly had taken an interest in basketball.
    She would even go into the closet and find Mr. Evans’s basketball sometimes and spin it in her hands while she thought about what her life might be like if Josh knew about her.
    But for the most part, basketball was still pretty much a mystery to her.
    She had to admit that she knew a lot more about soccer—they called it football in England—and even cricket, just because you had to over there if you cared at all about sports, except for the kids who’d just arrived at the American School of London from the States, chattering about basketball and baseball and football and everything except soccer and cricket.
    So most of her first live NBA game was a blur, except for this: Even a total idiot could see that what Josh Cameron was doing on the court was different from what everybody else could do.
    Nine other players out there. Three officials. All these people around him, Molly thought, and it’s as if he’s still all by himself, which is the way her mom had said it always was with him.
    Josh World, she had called it.
    It was exciting when you saw it this close, but it made her sad, too, something she tried to explain to Sam at halftime.
    â€œIt really is like he’s in a world of his own,” she said.
    â€œYour point being?”
    â€œI’ve got about as much a chance of breaking into it, getting him to do something he doesn’t want to do, as all those guys trying to guard him.”
    â€œBut that’s the thing about basketball,” Sam said. “He needs those other guys.”
    He was eating again. Had been eating since the game started. Popcorn. Two hot dogs. Ice cream. Now some nacho thing with cheese the same yucky color as the cheese of the macaroni and cheese at school. Like the Celtics against the 76ers was really just an all-you-can-eat contest.
    Sam said, “It’s the kind of player he is. He’s only great when he’s making the people around him great. You get that part, right?”
    â€œI guess so.”
    â€œNah, Mols. You know so. Those other guys round him out as a player. That’s what Uncle Adam always writes about him. And just about everybody else, too. You’ve got to convince Mr. Wonderful that you can basically do the same thing, just off the court. You and him, a better team.”
    Molly grabbed one of his chips, making sure there was no cheese on it. “Are you absolutely sure you’re only twelve years old?” she said.
    Sam kept eating. “The guy is going to love you once he gets to know you,” Sam said. “Now he’s got to get to know you.”
    â€œFat chance.”
    Sam ignored her, saying, “And if he gets to know you and doesn’t love you, then he is a total, screaming moron.”
    The Celtics finally ended up with the ball with twenty seconds left, and the game tied. Their coach called what Sam said was their last timeout, even if it seemed both teams had been calling one timeout after another for the last hour or so. Molly checked out the players