several years ago at Platteville Elementary School in Platteville, Colorado. Their school song, “Puff the Platteville Dragon,” became the inspiration for Mason’s school song here.
Don’t miss
next big disaster adventure!
Here’s a sneak peek at:
Mason Dixon: Basketball Disasters
by Claudia Mills
Available January 2012 from Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers
Excerpt from
Mason Dixon: Basketball Disasters
by Claudia Mills
Copyright © 2012 by Claudia Mills
Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
1
On the Plainfield Elementary School playground, Mason Dixon watched from a safe distance as his best friend, Brody Baxter, aimed his basketball at the hoop.
At least Mason had thought it was a safe distance.
The ball struck the front of the rim and shot back directly toward Mason’s head.
“Watch out!” Brody shouted.
Mason watched, but didn’t exactly watch
out
. Instead, he stared with horrified fascination as the ball zoomed toward him. Then, a split second before it would have knocked him to the blacktop—“Fourth-Grade Boy Killed on Basketball Court”—he made a saving catch.
Mason’s golden retriever—named Dog, shortfor Dog of Greatness—gave an appreciative bark as Mason tossed the basketball back to Brody. Then Dog gave another appreciative bark as Brody caught it. Dog lived at Mason’s house, because Brody’s dad was desperately allergic to all furry pets, but both boys shared Dog and loved him equally.
“Hey, Mason,” Brody said, practically dancing as he dribbled in place beneath the hoop. “You’re good! You have quick reflexes!”
Well, yes, sometimes a person’s reflexes became surprisingly good when the person was facing impending death-by-basketball.
“Come on, Mason, shoot some with me. Dog, you can come and shoot some, too.”
Dog wagged his tail at the sound of his name. Besides, Dog loved playing with a ball, any ball. Despite having only three legs, Dog thought that retrieving balls, or sticks—or any tossed object—was life’s greatest joy.
This was one way in which Mason and Dog were different.
“Did I tell you I talked to my parents?” Brody asked. “I told them I want to try basketball at the YMCA for a season.”
Mason would have guessed this without Brody telling him anything. Of course Brody would want to try basketball. Brody was interested in trying everything. He was finishing up a short soccer season right now; he’d play baseball in the spring. Why not play basketball, too?
That was one way in which Mason and Brody were different.
It was almost evening, on a mid-October Friday, and the Plainfield Elementary playground was deserted, except for Mason, Brody, and Dog. Neither boy had a basketball hoop on his garage, so this was the perfect place for playing basketball.
If any place was a perfect place for playing basketball.
Mason edged slowly onto the court. Brody took a few more dribbles and then shot again, and missed again.
“Get the rebound!” Brody called to Mason.
Mason managed to stumble after the ball and grab it before it rolled off into the long grass at the edge of the blacktop. He knew the basic idea of how to play basketball, from playing it for a few weeks each yearin P.E., but he had never been good at it, or good at any sport, for that matter.
“Now shoot!”
Without bothering to take careful aim, Mason tossed the ball in the general direction of the hoop.
“You’re not even trying,” Brody scolded. He tossed the ball back to Mason.
This time Mason studied the distance to the hoop before releasing the ball. His eyes widened with disbelief as, without even grazing the rim, the ball sailed neatly through the hoop and into Brody’s waiting hands.
Brody cheered. Mason continued to stare at the hoop.
“Besides, you’re tall,” Brody said as he hugged the ball to his chest.
Don’t miss
next big disaster adventure!
Here’s a sneak peek at:
Mason Dixon: Basketball Disasters
by Claudia Mills
Available January 2012 from Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers
Excerpt from
Mason Dixon: Basketball Disasters
by Claudia Mills
Copyright © 2012 by Claudia Mills
Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
1
On the Plainfield Elementary School playground, Mason Dixon watched from a safe distance as his best friend, Brody Baxter, aimed his basketball at the hoop.
At least Mason had thought it was a safe distance.
The ball struck the front of the rim and shot back directly toward Mason’s head.
“Watch out!” Brody shouted.
Mason watched, but didn’t exactly watch
out
. Instead, he stared with horrified fascination as the ball zoomed toward him. Then, a split second before it would have knocked him to the blacktop—“Fourth-Grade Boy Killed on Basketball Court”—he made a saving catch.
Mason’s golden retriever—named Dog, shortfor Dog of Greatness—gave an appreciative bark as Mason tossed the basketball back to Brody. Then Dog gave another appreciative bark as Brody caught it. Dog lived at Mason’s house, because Brody’s dad was desperately allergic to all furry pets, but both boys shared Dog and loved him equally.
“Hey, Mason,” Brody said, practically dancing as he dribbled in place beneath the hoop. “You’re good! You have quick reflexes!”
Well, yes, sometimes a person’s reflexes became surprisingly good when the person was facing impending death-by-basketball.
“Come on, Mason, shoot some with me. Dog, you can come and shoot some, too.”
Dog wagged his tail at the sound of his name. Besides, Dog loved playing with a ball, any ball. Despite having only three legs, Dog thought that retrieving balls, or sticks—or any tossed object—was life’s greatest joy.
This was one way in which Mason and Dog were different.
“Did I tell you I talked to my parents?” Brody asked. “I told them I want to try basketball at the YMCA for a season.”
Mason would have guessed this without Brody telling him anything. Of course Brody would want to try basketball. Brody was interested in trying everything. He was finishing up a short soccer season right now; he’d play baseball in the spring. Why not play basketball, too?
That was one way in which Mason and Brody were different.
It was almost evening, on a mid-October Friday, and the Plainfield Elementary playground was deserted, except for Mason, Brody, and Dog. Neither boy had a basketball hoop on his garage, so this was the perfect place for playing basketball.
If any place was a perfect place for playing basketball.
Mason edged slowly onto the court. Brody took a few more dribbles and then shot again, and missed again.
“Get the rebound!” Brody called to Mason.
Mason managed to stumble after the ball and grab it before it rolled off into the long grass at the edge of the blacktop. He knew the basic idea of how to play basketball, from playing it for a few weeks each yearin P.E., but he had never been good at it, or good at any sport, for that matter.
“Now shoot!”
Without bothering to take careful aim, Mason tossed the ball in the general direction of the hoop.
“You’re not even trying,” Brody scolded. He tossed the ball back to Mason.
This time Mason studied the distance to the hoop before releasing the ball. His eyes widened with disbelief as, without even grazing the rim, the ball sailed neatly through the hoop and into Brody’s waiting hands.
Brody cheered. Mason continued to stare at the hoop.
“Besides, you’re tall,” Brody said as he hugged the ball to his chest.
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