Free Game-Day Jitters by Rich Wallace Page A

shook. He glanced over his shoulder and saw his best friend and teammate Erin pushing the other end.
    “Earth to Ben,” Erin said.
    Ben stood carefully so the seesaw wouldn’t rise up and smack him. “Thinking about tomorrow,” he said.
    “The big game,” Erin said cheerfully. She was an excellent soccer player, but she never seemed to take the games as seriously as Ben did. He knew that he sometimes took the games
too
seriously, and that had caused some trouble. He’d been kicked out of one game and suspended for another. He’d worked hard on controlling his temper since then.
    “I heard Loop bragging again,” Erin said with a laugh.
    “He was mouthing off about the game,” Ben said. “Thinks they’re going to beat us, like, a hundred to nothing.”
    “He’s just trying to throw off your concentration,” Erin said. “Don’t let him get to you.”
    “He won’t.” Ben took the crumpled-up paper out of his pocket and showed it to Erin. “He’ll eat this tomorrow after we beat them.”
    Erin looked at the paper. “Six–nothing?” she said.
    “That’s what he wrote. Come on, I need to burn off some steam. Let’s shoot baskets.”
    They walked across the playground and Ben picked up a basketball. He dribbled a few times, then charged toward the basket and made a layup. He didn’t really need to saveenergy—he just didn’t want to listen to Loop any longer. Ben
never
ran out of energy.
    “One-on-one?” he asked, dribbling the basket ball steadily.
    Erin swiped out her hand and stole the ball. “Nah,” she said as she darted away. “Let’s play HORSE.”
    Ben frowned but said, “Okay.” He’d rather compete in a real game, but HORSE would do for now. “Go ahead.”
    Erin dribbled to the free-throw line, took one step back, and shot a jumper. The ball banked off the backboard and into the hoop.
    “You didn’t call a bank,” Ben said. “So I don’t have to.”
    Erin shrugged. “Bank or not, you still have to make the shot.”
    Ben eyed the basket, then jumped and shot. The ball rolled around the rim but fell out.
    “That’s an
H
,” Erin said.
    “No kidding.”
    Erin did a simple layup from the right, and Ben matched it. She missed her next shot, and Ben made one.
    By the time recess ended, both of them had reached H-O-R-S.
    “We’ll finish this tomorrow,” Ben said.
    “Fair enough,” Erin replied. “But I get the first shot.”
    Ben wiped his forehead with his hand. He’d broken a sweat, which was always a good thing as far as he was concerned. He felt good now, ready for the rest of the school day. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been so keyed up before recess.
    But then he saw Loop and he remembered.
    Soccer. Tomorrow afternoon. The play-offs.
    *   *   *

    “This is quite a sports week in our house,” Ben’s dad said at dinner that night.
    Ben pushed a pile of string beans with his fork and stared at the chicken. He hadn’t eaten anything yet. He was too nervous about tomorrow’s game.
    Across the table, his older brother, Larry, had a mouthful of food and was grinning as he chewed.
    He won’t be so hungry tomorrow night
, Ben thought.
Before his race
.
    Larry would be competing in the league cross-country championship race on Friday afternoon. He was one of the best runners on the Lincoln Junior High School team.
    “Eat up, Ben,” Mom said.
    “I’m not hungry.”
    Mom set down her fork. “You’re
never
not hungry,” she said. “What’s the matter?”
    “He’s too worked up about tomorrow,” Larrysaid. “Listen, Ben. It’s just another game.”
    “It’s
not
‘just another game,’ ” Ben snapped. “This is the play-offs.”
    Larry shook his head slowly. “My coach always tells us to prepare for every race the same way.”
    “This isn’t a race.” Ben stabbed the chicken and left the fork standing straight up in it. “We’re playing the best team in the league. The loser is done for the season.”
    “You have to focus,” Larry