Real Hoops by Fred Bowen Read Free Book Online Page B

walked across the gym. “We needed every one of your baskets.”
    “Yeah. I really thought Hud was going to beat us again,” Ben replied. “All by himself.”
    “He sure left fast,” Logan said. “Do you think he was mad or something?”
    “Don’t know.” Ben shrugged.
    The two boys walked into the locker room as Hud was heading out. He had thrown his winter jacket on over his practice uniformand he was still sweaty. The gym bag slung over his shoulder was half open and his clothes were spilling out.
    “Hey, where are you going?” Ben said.
    “Yeah, no hard feelings on the loss, right?” Logan teased.
    “I’m out of here,” Hud said. “I’m not running any wind sprints for that guy.”
    “What do you mean?” Logan asked.
    “Coach is never going to start me.” Hud almost spit out the words. “Even after I won that last game for us.”
    “Hey, Coach is tough on everybody,” Ben said. “He’s just trying to get us ready for varsity. He’s trying to make us all better players.”
    “No, he isn’t!” Hud said. “He’s trying to make me play the way
he
thinks I should play. And he’s got all those dumb rules.” He pushed open the door.
    “Wait a minute, where are you going?” Ben asked.
    Hud looked back over his shoulder. “To Westwood,” he said. “To play some
real
hoops.”

Chapter 13
    T he L7 bus was almost empty. Ben sat near the back and fiddled with the handle of his saxophone case as he tried to think of how to convince Hud not to quit the team. He gazed out the window as the bus rumbled downtown. The streetlights cast an eerie glow on the passing sidewalks.
    Ben wished he hadn’t lied to his parents and told them he was practicing music at Logan’s house. But he didn’t see any other way. He couldn’t tell them he was going to Westwood—at night—to talk to Hud. They would have told him to let Coach George handle it.
    But Ben was the Raiders’ captain. It was his job to try to talk to Hud … again.
    “Eighth and Westwood,” the driver announced.
    Ben swung his saxophone case around the bus pole and stepped off the bus. He slipped the case over his shoulder and zipped his coat. Then he plunged his hands into his pockets and walked quickly, head down, to the Center.
    Inside, the Center was warm. Ben began to sweat. Maybe it was the heat. Or maybe it was because he was nervous. He loosened his jacket and followed the sounds of a basketball game in progress. Looking down through the Plexiglas window, Ben spotted Hud. He was dribbling toward the basket, looking free and happy. Donut, Hi-Tops, and 44-Long were there, too, with a bunch of other players.
    For a long time, Ben stood there, watching.
    “You’re a little late for band practice,” said a voice behind him.
    Ben turned and saw Mr. Sims. The director nodded toward the saxophone case.
    “We, uh, had an extra practice after school tonight,” Ben said.
    Mr. Sims raised a questioning eyebrow. “What are you
really
doing here on your own, at this hour?”
    “I was looking for Hud.”
    “Well, you found him,” Mr. Sims said. “He’s here most nights.”
    “He’s not supposed to be,” Ben said in a small voice. “It’s against the team rules.”
    Mr. Sims smiled. “I figured that might be the case,” he said. “But Coach George runs his team his way. I run Westwood my way. It’s tough to stop a kid from playing ball, especially one who loves the game as much as Hud.”
    Mr. Sims and Ben looked back down at the game, just as Hud pushed out a long bounce pass that skipped ahead of his teammate and out of bounds. “So, what’s going on?” Mr. Sims asked.
    A sudden wave of sadness swept over Ben. He almost felt like crying. “I think Hud’s going to quit the team,” he said finally.
    “Now why would he want to do a crazy thing like that?”
    “I guess Coach wasn’t playing Hud as much as Hud thought he should,” Ben said. “And he’s real tired of all the drills and stuff.”
    “Mr. George is a good