Free Basketball (or Something Like It) by Nora Raleigh Baskin Page A

What do you have fourth?”
    “English.”
    The secretary was shaking her head. “Well, next week is sixth-grade testing. I’m sorry, Anabel, you’ll have to stay after for detention. Tomorrow. I’ll send a note home. Oh, now it’s okay. Don’t get upset. It’s not that bad. Anabel, I’ll explain it to your mother. Don’t worry.”
    Anabel didn’t know who to feel worse for, herself or the secretary. The secretary looked like
she
was going to cry.
    “It’s okay,” Anabel whispered.
    “I’ll call your mother. I’ll tell her it’s no big deal. It’s just one of those silly school rules.”
    “Sure,” Anabel said. She imagined the answering machine at home picking up the call. It got nestled in between a call about AAU tryouts and team photo day; nobody would even hear it.

TRAP
    T he next move was a clandestine masterpiece. Coach Vince quit and Tyler Bischoff’s dad quietly took over the team. There was a lot of speculation as to why Coach Vince actually left, especially after he had brought the team to its one and only victory.
    Most parents agreed it was the parents. Every parent other than themselves, of course.
    There was a rumor going around that right after the game, Coach Vince got no less than nine phone calls at home. The phone calls ranged from, “My kid didn’t play enough” to “What are your qualifications for coaching?” to “Maybe we could get together at my club and play a little golf in the spring,” and thatCoach Vince could see the writing on the wall. And he just quit. He told the boys at the last practice that he had too many obligations with work and his new home, but he looked genuinely upset. The boys were, too. They liked Coach Vince.
    “Who’s going to be our new coach?” Matt King asked.
    “I don’t know, Matt. Mr. Bischoff will be talking to you now. Maybe he has a better idea about that.”
    Tyler’s dad was standing in the gym, leaning against the wall under the hoop. When he heard his name he pushed off with his back and stepped forward to “say a few words.”
    He spoke for over thirty-five minutes, while the boys sat cross-legged on the floor. He talked about getting through these minor bumps in the road. He talked about the future of the team. About having a winning attitude. About working hard and how most of the learning is done at practice. Playing during a game was only a small part of it all.
    Then he talked about
his
school days, playing basketball and baseball in high school and then, yes, in college. He told them how he was on his all-state basketball team and that
he
came from a much bigger town. And it had a much more “diverse” population than North Bridge, he added. Only a few kids knew what he meant by that. Mr. Bischoff went on to saythat he was looking forward to a positive season from here on in.
    “So who’s going to be our new coach?” Matt King asked again.
    “Are you really that dumb?” Michael Morrisey said out loud.
    Then Harrison Neeley said his butt hurt from sitting on the floor for so long, and Hank Adler said he had to go to the bathroom.
    It was past time to go anyway.

DETENTION
    “W hat are
you
doing in here?”
    Nathan was not surprised to see Hank and Jeremy in detention (he had heard about the fight in the cafeteria, of course), but they were apparently surprised to see him.
    “Is this detention?” Nathan asked.
    “Yeah, and what are you doing here?” Jeremy asked again.
    “It doesn’t look like detention.”
    “Well, it is,” Hank Adler said.
    “So what’s she doing here?” Nathan pointed to Anabel Morrisey. There was no way she’d be in detention.
    “I was late. What are
you
doing here?” Anabelasked. She was sitting at a long table reading a book and munching chips out of a huge bag. It didn’t look like detention.
    “Where’s the teacher?” Nathan asked. He was still standing in the doorway.
    “What’s the matter with you?” Jeremy said. He threw a balled-up piece of paper at Nathan.
    “It’s