The Judge Who Stole Christmas by Randy Singer Read Free Book Online

doors to the gym. The familiar-looking lady at the table took Jasmine’s five-dollar bill without looking up.
    â€œHow much are the programs?” Jasmine asked.
    â€œOne dol—” The lady’s eyes went buggy. “Oh, my goodness! Jazz Woodfaulk!”
    Jasmine blushed. This is what she hated about coming home.
    The lady fished into her cash register and thrust the five-dollar bill back at Jasmine. “You don’t pay to get into this gym, young lady.” She stood, smiling the entire time, then leaned forward and gave Jasmine a hug. “You and your dad used to own this place.”
    â€œThanks,” Jasmine said, sheepishly trying to slip away.
    â€œEnjoy the game, dear,” the gatekeeper called out. “They could use you this year.”
    Jasmine stepped into the gymnasium and immediately sensed the apathy generated by a losing team. Pockets of fans were sitting in different spots on the bleachers, talking to each other, almost ignoring the game. Even the cheerleaders looked disinterested.
    Jasmine eased past the well-wishers and villagers interested in discussing the manger case. She spotted her mother sitting with a few other team moms a few rows behind the home team bench, the same place she used to sit for Jasmine’s games. Her mom was one of the few people in the gym leaning forward, hands on her knees, sputtering at the refs or the coach, intently following the game. Ajori was sitting on the bench, looking glum, talking to a teammate. Jasmine climbed into the bleachers next to her mom. “How’s Ajori doing?” Jasmine asked.
    â€œTwo fouls. Both of ’em ticky-tack fouls.”
    â€œWith just two fouls she oughta be in the game,” Jasmine said.
    The ref blew his whistle and Jasmine’s mom threw her arms in the air. “That’s ridiculous, Mr. Ref!” she yelled, rising to her feet. “You guys are pitiful!”
    Coach Barker, a squat man with a buzz cut, shook his head and sauntered to where Ajori was sitting on the bench.
    â€œNo more reach fouls, Woodfaulk.”
    Ajori nodded.
    â€œGet Kelley.”
    Ajori sprinted to the scorer’s table and knelt in front of it. Just before she went in the game, Jasmine’s mom called her name. When Ajori turned and saw Jasmine, her eyes lit up. The ref called her into the game and she hustled onto the court.
    It took Ajori one minute, thirty-five seconds of playing time to get her shot blocked, followed by a three-second violation, and then to get called for going over the back on a defensive rebound.
    â€œKelley!” Barker shouted. “Get Woodfaulk.”
    Jasmine’s stomach dropped as Ajori came slinking off the court and took a seat at the end of the bench. She stared at her shoes when Barker went to stand in front of her, yelling as he watched the game. “That’s just a dumb foul, Woodfaulk! Stupid. You’re a senior. I say, ‘No fouls, Woodfaulk. Don’t go over the back, Woodfaulk.’ And what do you do? Bam!” Barker slapped his hands together. It seemed to Jasmine like the whole gym was listening. “You go over the back and pick up your third foul! That’s just . . . that’s just . . . moronic. That’s what it is . . . moronic.”
    â€œHe’s a jerk,” Jasmine whispered to her mom. Her mom’s round face was flushed with anger, but Jasmine knew that her mom, one of the most outspoken women in all of Possum, would be loath to criticize the coach. When your husband is a coach and you experience all the critical comments and backstabbing from the parents, you make a vow not to do the same when your kid’s playing.
    But Jasmine had no such restraints. This was Barker’s first year, and this was the first game Jasmine had seen him coach, but she had already heard about his antics. He had now turned his rantings from Ajori to some other poor kid on the floor who was apparently falling short