Toby Wheeler by Thatcher Heldring Read Free Book Online

his latest victim? I wasn’t sure. But being out there with him for some real up-and-down action, like we were back at the rec center, fired me up so much I almost forgot one of us was a benchwarmer. That feeling lasted about as long as it took Coach to say “Go!” What happened when the ball came to me was like a rec center game on fast forward. I had only held the ball for a second—barely time to open my eyes—when Raj and JJ closed in, shouting “Trap! Trap! Trap!” I panicked. Picked up the ball, then tossed it in the air like a hot potato and hoped whoever caught it was wearing a white jersey. A total rookie move, but what could I do? JJ had pounced on me. There was a look in his eyes I had never seen. Was it some competitive edge JJ saved for big moments, or had something about seeing me on the court in Pilchuck gym brought it out?
    He didn’t let up. And I tried not to back down. When Raj called motion, JJ was on the right wing, with me sticking him. I gave JJ space, knowing he would come off a screen and pass to Ruben—that was the play. But when JJ got the rock, he squared up and shot.
    “Good, JJ,” said Coach. “Toby, don’t give him that kind of space.”
    Next possession. Same situation. Only this time, I played him tighter. JJ got the ball off the pass, shimmied left, shimmied right, then left again, around me, and straight to the hoop.
    “Good, JJ,” said Coach again. “Toby, not so tight.”
    It continued. JJ went through me, over me, by me, and under me. He never said a word. Just picked me apart with this Terminator look on his face.
    “Hey, man,” Ruben said to him when Coach wasn’t listening. “Why don’t you give the guy a break?”
    “And someone else the ball,” said Roy.
    All JJ said was “I told you it wouldn’t be like the rec center, Toby.”
    “I never said it would be.”
    “Yeah, but you thought it. I know you.”
    Maybe he was trying to prove a point. Team ball
was
a different game than pickup ball. And I was going to have to get used to running with guys who were faster, stronger, and better. Still, did he have to show me up in front of the whole team—and Coach?
    Eventually, Coach called off the slaughter and we gathered in a circle at midcourt like we did at the end of every practice—after shooting free throws, of course. Raj had made two in a row so we got a one-day break from wind sprints. Everybody was pretty psyched about that—especially Khalil. Coach was about to send us to the locker room when the gym door opened and Megan entered. The sound of the door falling closed behind her made us all turn our heads.
    Raj straightened his uniform.
    Khalil sucked in his chest.
    Roy stopped picking his teeth.
    There was whispering and pointing, too.
    Coach smiled and waved at Megan. “Hi, Champ,” he called. “Be with you in a minute.”
Champ?
I could tell some of the guys were ready to bust out laughing when they heard that one.
    Megan looked at Coach, horrified. Her eyes grew to twice their normal size and her chin jutted forward in disbelief. Coach smiled back, sheepishly. Megan shook her head, then ducked into the gym office—but not before spying me and wiggling her fingers in my direction. Everybody who had been watching Megan spun their heads to face me.
    “Looks like the benchwarmer’s got a girlfriend,” someone said.
    Coach glared at me, his knuckles white on the clipboard.
    What was Megan thinking? It’s bad enough it took me five tries to run a simple play—now Coach thinks I’m putting the moves on his daughter!
I had to say something. But what? “I’m her math tutor,” I sputtered at last. “I’m helping her with algebra.” I managed my best innocent face and looked up at Coach, who appeared to be doing some math of his own in his head. Something told me the equation he was solving went like this.
    Toby with Megan in the hall + Megan waving at Toby in the gym = dead man on the end of the bench.

          9
    T he next day,