Boot Camp by Eric Walters Page A

running.
    â€œCome on, Nick, hustle back!” Kia yelled, and I kicked it into gear, running back to take myspot on the left side of the key—we were running a two-three zone.
    The other team came up the court. They looked relaxed, confident. Who could blame them? They knew our record from the first day. Then again, they’d only won one game yesterday themselves, so they were nothing special.
    They passed the ball around the perimeter, trying to set up an open shot. Kia jumped forward, knocking down one of the passes. She raced up the court, grabbed the lose ball, leaving everybody on both teams behind. She put the ball up for a lay-up and we were ahead four to nothing.
    â€œToo easy!” Jamal yelled out. “Too easy!”
    It was a little early to be trash talking, but I thought he was right. This game wasn’t going to be a challenge.
    Jamal threw up a shot. It bounced off the backboard, hit the front of the rim, went up into the air and then it rolled around before dropping for a basket. I had expected it to drop. The way he’d been playing this game he could have kicked the ball and it would have dropped in for two points. He’d played well in our first game of the morning,a convincing win, and then even better in our second—a closer win—but he’d been unbelievable in this game. And, we’d needed him to be that good. The team we were playing had only lost two games yesterday and they were really good.
    I looked up at the clock. It wasn’t the game clock, but the clock that would signal lunch. It was three minutes to twelve. I knew that if we wanted to start the play-offs on time this afternoon, we’d need to start lunch on time. All we had to do was hold onto our three-point lead for another three minutes and we’d win.
    â€œSpread!” I yelled.
    Kia knew what I meant, although nobody else had any idea. It was a play our rep team used to kill time. Each person spread apart and to the outside so we could pass the ball back and forth without trying to score. We didn’t need to score.
    I moved up to the top and Kia threw me the ball. I dribbled away from the key—away from their zone defense. I continued to dribble, not moving toward their net. Their players—all in their positions in the zone—just watched and waited. They’d be waiting a long time if they expected meto come inside. I passed over to Kia who was on the other side, just as far away from the basket and from their players.
    Slowly their zone started to shift open, and Brandon slipped in behind them. He raised his hand to show how open he was. If we were trying to score, that would have been perfect. We weren’t trying to score. We were just trying to waste time. Besides, I didn’t think he could catch the ball and score unless everybody on the other team was in their dressing room.
    Kia passed the ball to Jamal. Did he understand what we were trying to do?
    â€œJamal!” I screamed. “No shot! No shot!”
    For a split second he looked confused, and then he nodded in agreement. He tossed the ball back to Kia and cut to an open spot. She passed the ball back to me, and I dribbled and put a pass back to Jamal and—a loud whistle blew, sounding the end of the game! The morning was over, and we’d won all three of our games.
    We were now three wins and six losses and ready for the play-offs to begin. Maybe we wouldn’t win it all, but we certainly weren’t going to be anybody’s joke anymore.

Chapter Fourteen
    The six of us sat off in the corner, together, away from the other teams. We were eating our lunches and talking strategy. I was mostly just talking. I was too nervous to eat much.
    â€œI think we should try to go man-to-man to start,” Kia said, again.
    â€œThat won’t work. We have to stay with zone,” Jamal replied, again. “Even if we could do it right—and we can’t—we’d burn ourselves out