True Legend by Mike Lupica Read Free Book Online

is this,” Mr. Shockey said. “I’ve gotten evaluation reports from every one of your teachers, and every one of them says the same thing: you’re not coming close to giving your full effort. And before I send those reports along to your mom, I want to talk to you about it.”
    He leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him.
    â€œQuite frankly, Drew,” he said, “I’d write up the same evaluation myself.”
    â€œI’m pulling my weight with you.”
    â€œYou act more like you’re having
teeth
pulled,” Mr. Shockey said. “English is a second language for two kids in our class, and they’re making A’s. There’s nobody in the class with lower than a B. Except you. You’re a low C and not that far from a D.”
    â€œI’ll pick it up the rest of the semester, watch and see,” he said.
    â€œYou said you’d pick it up before Christmas the last time we had this talk.”
    Drew crossed his legs now, looked down at one of his favorite pairs of old kicks, high-top Adidas Superstars, blue stripes on white, like some of the old Knicks used to wear way back in the day.
    â€œI don’t have to tell you that if your grade gets any lower, you can’t play.”
    â€œC’mon, you and I both know I won’t let that happen.”
    It wasn’t a school rule or even a league rule about earning D’s in school. But it happened to be Coach DiGregorio’s rule. He let everybody know, especially the media, that the academic standards for his team were higher than anybody else’s. Same as his basketball standards were. He said he’d learned that from Bob Knight when Knight was still coaching.
    Drew was just glad that he hadn’t learned how to throw chairs and grab players by their necks, too.
    Drew said to Mr. Shockey, “You wouldn’t sit me down. Mr. S, you’re my boy.” Grinning.
    â€œI can always feel us getting closer when you need a grade from me,” Mr. Shockey said. “But then I imagine teachers have been letting you slide from the time you were the best basketball player in every school you ever went to.”
    Drew couldn’t help himself, even now, hearing about academic trouble the day before the Park game, hitting on something Mr. Shockey always hit on in class.
    â€œEnding a sentence with a preposition there, Mr. S?” he said.
    Mr. Shockey slapped his desk, not in a mad way, looking excited, happy almost. “I know you’re busting on me, but you’re really proving my point at the same time,” he said. “You’re smart, Drew. You know it, and I know it, but the problem is that I’m the only one who cares. Wasting a mind like yours would be the same as wasting the talent you have for basketball.”
    Drew tried not to roll his eyes, listening to the same talk he’d been hearing from Mr. Shockey ever since they got to know each other.
    â€œI’m trying, a hundred percent,” Drew said.
    â€œNo, you’re trying thirty percent, tops.”
    â€œNot true. Maybe I have been letting things slide, just wanting to get the basketball season off to a good start for me and my teammates.”
    â€œBaloney.”
    Drew really didn’t want this to go on all day. “Tell me what I have to do,” he said.
    â€œYou have to do your best work on the paper you’ve got coming up, because that
is
going to be thirty percent. Of your final grade.”
    The theme of the paper was “A Life Worth Knowing” and had been assigned before Christmas break. They had to find someone nobody else in the class knew about, had ever heard about, and write a paper making people care about him or her.
    â€œWho’d you pick, by the way?” Mr. Shockey said. “You told me you were going to come up with an idea and start working on it over break.”
    Drew Robinson had always prided himself on being able to think fast, whether it was