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said.
    Marcus fired a pass to Kia, and then crossed over behind her as she moved into the center lane. Kia caught it chest height, bounced the ball once and then lined a pass to me. I grabbed it, took a step and fired it to Marcus who’d shifted back into the center. He put the ball to Kia who took two steps and laid it off the backboard and into the net.
    â€œPerfect!” Mr. Roberts yelled. “That’s how you do a weave!”
    Kia gave me a high five as we started back up the side of the gym to take our places at the end of the lines.
    â€œNow if we can just have some more of the grade fives do this drill right,” Mr. Roberts continued. “Maybe I should just go out and get some more grade threes to try out for the team!”
    I looked over at Kia. I could tell she was thinking exactly what I was thinking: if they didn’t like us before, this certainly wasn’t going to help.
    â€œIf we ever get this drill right,” Mr. Roberts yelled, “we’ll finish today with a scrimmage!”
    * * *

    I broke behind a screen and headed for the hoop. I was completely open. I raised my hands high to let the ball carrier know I was open and prepared for the pass and — the ball went in the completely opposite direction. Again.
    A shot went up, clanked loudly off the backboard and bounced away, the rebound eaten up by a member of the other team. I hustled back on defense. Running back I briefly locked my eyes with Kia, sitting on the other team’s bench. She’d had about as many touches of the ball as I’d had.
    My man, Scott, brought the ball up court. I met him just past the center line, trying to angle him toward the side line. He faked for the center, and cut for the side, but didn’t change hands. I reached out, poked the ball away and lunged for it. I grabbed the ball as Scott and I scrambled for it.
    Out of the corner of my eye I saw a player wearing a blue bib — somebody on my side — and heaved the ball to him, just as I was bowled over as Scott and I collided. I flew through the air, landing heavily on my side and sliding along the floor. I looked up in time to see a player laying the ball into the hoop.
    I struggled to my feet. My left leg hurt, and I looked down to see a nasty floor burn extending the whole way from just below the line of my shorts to my knee. Maybe I better sit down or —
    A shrill blast of the whistle brought the game to a stop.
    â€œThat’s it for this afternoon!” Mr. Roberts called out. “Good practice, everybody!”
    I limped toward the stage to retrieve my stuff.
    â€œNice pass,” Mr. Roberts said as I walked by him.
    â€œThanks,” I mumbled back.
    â€œThat leg doesn’t look very good.”
    â€œIt’s nothing,” I said. I was working at not letting my face show how much it really did hurt.
    â€œMaybe I better get the first-aid kit,” Mr. Roberts suggested.
    I shook my head. “It’s no big deal. See you tomorrow.”

Chapter 7

Oh Yeah!

    â€œWell, it’s all done,” Kia said.
    We’d been to every tryout all week long.
    â€œNow the hard part,” I said. “The waiting.”
    The list would be posted on the gym door on Monday morning. I guess I should have been grateful for the weekend. Not only would I have a break from school and basketball, but I’d have a chance for my wounds to heal.
    My tongue went to the spot in my mouth where it had been all cut up yesterday. I’d caught an elbow in the face — Roy’s elbow — when I was going up for a rebound. I can still picture that expression on his face as I looked up at him from the floor — thatsatisfied smirk.
    Of course, that was just one of the injuries I’d picked up. My leg was still smarting from the burn, and my side was sore from when I’d been shoved off the court and hit the bleachers.
    It wasn’t that anybody except Roy was trying to hurt me. It was