Nothin But Net by Matt Christopher Page B

Or had she been
     too busy kissing Mike?
    He couldn’t find them, and now his teammates were slapping him on the back, congratulating him for a job well done. He was
     glad for the recognition — after all, he’d been after it for weeks — but the sight of Mike and Stephanie kissing had left
     him with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. And the fact that he’d pretty much blown the game before coming back
     in to help save it took something away from the moment. It was a victory all right, but a bittersweet one. He’d have to do
     much better next week, when Camp Chickasaw blew back in for the big rematch.

12
    S o you think you’re all that now, huh?”
    Tim stared into the angry green eyes of Mike Gruber and didn’t know how to answer him.
    “You think you won the big game, so now you’re the cheese?” Gruber pushed open the door of Tim’s room, and Tim backed away
     to let him enter. “That was a team we should have beaten by forty points, yo. And if you hadn’t broken my finger, we would
     have.”
    “It was an accident, Mike, I swear it,” Tim assured him, but Mike just kept coming, and Tim kept retreating till, with a shove
     of his hand, Mike pushed Tim down on the bed and stood glowering down at him.
    “Sure,” he said. “No sweat, man. You didn’t mean it. You just kept pushing on that door even after we told you to stop, because
     you wanted to save that poor little squirrel, right?”
    “I didn’t say that …,” Tim began, but Mike didn’t want to hear his explanations.
    “And making me wet my bed,” Mike said. “That was an accident, too?”
    “Well … actually, I feel really bad about that one,” Tim said. “It’s just — well, you know, after the thing you and Stephanie
     pulled on me —”
    “Stephanie’s mine, understand?” Mike interrupted. “Just stay away from her.”
    “What?” What was Mike talking about? Of course Stephanie was his girlfriend. It wasn’t like she liked Tim or anything … was
     it?
    No, come on. What was he thinking? “I’ll stay away from her,” he assured Mike. “Why would I want to talk to her anyway, after
     what she did to me?”
    “You deserved it,” Mike growled. “You deserve a lot worse. Watch out or you’ll get it, too.”
    He turned on his heel and walked out of the little room, leaving Tim staring after him.
    It was one thing to beat a team like Woodbine, with only one really dangerous player. It was another thing to beat Chickasaw,
     a team that played ferocious defenseand could score at will if you didn’t stick to them like glue.
    If they lost to Chickasaw again, Tim would be right back in the doghouse. And he knew if he didn’t pick up his game between
     now and then, that was exactly what would happen.
    So he was totally psyched when Tito came back to Eagles Nest and announced that the NBA players would be arriving the next
     day for the annual summer clinic. Especially when he heard that one of the players coming was Allister Edwards. Tim had watched
     Edwards play for years, leading his team to the NBA finals twice. Watching the games on TV wasn’t nearly as much fun since
     Edwards had retired two seasons ago.
    If anybody could help him become the best point guard Wickasaukee had ever seen, it had to be Allister Edwards! But in a one-day
     clinic, how could he make sure he got enough of Edwards’s time and attention?
    The morning featured the NBA stars doing their warm-ups — sinking shot after shot from beyond the arc and behind the foul
     line, performing incredible spin dunks and behind-the-back passes as they went through their everyday routines.
    Then Charlie Jansen, the legendary onetime coach of the Sixers, had the players demonstrate key fundamentals. He called up
     several volunteers from the audience — but he never called on Tim, whose arm threatened to pull free from its socket, he raised
     it so high and so often.
    The morning session ended with the campers doing their drills and the NBA