Wart by Anna Myers

only made it once out of five times. Then he saw his father come in with Ms. Gibbs. Stewart hadn't mentioned the game to his father. Why should he? He certainly didn't expect to get to play. Ms. Gibbs must have told him. Dad waved at him, and Ms. Gibbs gave him a thumbs-up sign. Stewart turned away and pretended he hadn't noticed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them settle on the very first row, just where she had told him she would be. Stewart didn't feel so good anymore.
    Brad was right about Stewart not seeing much action. For the first three quarters he warmed the bench. Even Ham got to play while Brad picked at the dirt under one fingernail with the nails on the other hand. About the middle of the last quarter when it was pretty certain the team was going to lose anyway, Coach motioned for Stewart. "Come on," he said, "you can go in for Brad."
    Stewart's heart was pounding. Brad gave him a dirty look when he touched his hand to signal that Brad was being replaced, but Stewart didn't care. It was his first time to play in a real ball game, and he liked the feeling. Without even thinking about it, he glanced at Ms. Gibbs. She waved to him, then rubbed her green necklace.
    That's when it started! The other team had just put up an unsuccessful shot. Time for the rebound. Suddenly, like he was jet-propelled, Stewart shot up above the others and grabbed the ball. It was as good as a dream, the way he drove down that court, moving from right to left, dodging their defense, like the other players were kindergartners. He made that layup so easily, him, Stewart Wright!
    The crowd was cheering really loud, but the miracle wasn't done. The kid who took the ball out threw it way over Stewart's head. Somehow he jumped higher than he had ever imagined he could, intercepting the pass. That ball felt perfect in his hand, a natural part of him. He started toward the basket, but they were all around him, five of them, determined to block another layup.
    A quick glance at the clock told him seconds were precious. There was no one to pass to. A shot from that far was ridiculous, but what else was there to do. For a split second, he glanced toward Ms. Gibbs. He aimed and threw. The ball swished into that net like it had been programmed by a computer.
    "Yeah, Stewart! He's our man!" He'd know that cheerleader's voice anywhere. It was Taylor Montgomery.
    "The buzzer sounded. Stewart's team had lost the game, but his three points made the score much more respectable.
    Most of the guys gathered around him. Even Brad slapped him on the back. "Great lucky streak, Wart," he said.
    "Coach should have put you in a lot sooner," said Jake.
    As Stewart walked off the court, the coach motioned him to come over to the bench. Coach put one foot up on the bench, and he put an arm around Stewart's shoulder. "Good going, Wright," he said, "real good going."
    Stewart's head was swimming as he headed for the dressing room. It really was like a dream, and he remembered the one he'd had the week before about him and Ham's grandmother winning the race. You couldn't have played like that by yourself, a voice whispered in his mind, but Stewart didn't want to think about Ms. Gibbs. He wanted to enjoy what had just happened.
    The coach talked to them before they got dressed. "We lost the first one, men," he said, "but we learned some things about our strengths and weaknesses." Stewart could feel some of the guys looking at him.
    After the talk, Stewart started to change his clothes. He had untied one basketball shoe when Ham dropped the bombshell. "Well, looks like Ms. Gibbs is a witch, all right. We've still got to get close enough to spy."
    While Ham talked, Stewart didn't move, just stayed bent over halfway to the floor. He felt cold, like he'd just been thrown into an icy pool. Ms. Gibbs! He had to admit to himself that she was behind his great improvement on the court. Still, he didn't want to talk about it, not even to Ham.
    "Right," was all he said. He