Free Super-sized Slugger by Cal Ripken Jr. Page B

over his shoulder and stomped off into the twilight.
    â€œWhat’s his problem?” Willie said as they stared at the retreating figure.
    â€œApparently it’s me,” Cody said. “Which makes it my problem too.”

Cody took two dribbles to his right, until he was almost behind the basket, and then he put up a fifteen-foot rainbow while nearly brushing against the garage door. He held his follow-through with his right hand extended high in the air, like the best shooters in the NBA and college. Swish . He grinned, retrieved the ball, and fired a bounce pass to Jessica.
    â€œNo way you’ll make that shot,” he said. “You don’t have that kind of talent.”
    Jessica snorted and waved dismissively. “Are you kidding?” she said, dribbling over to where Cody had let the ball fly. “I make this shot in my sleep.”
    She took a deep breath and launched a jumper. The ball clanged noisily off the front of the rim and rolled into the hedge. They both looked at each other and laughed.
    They were playing H-O-R-S-E in Jessica’s driveway, one day after the Orioles’ big win over the Tigers, and she was down to her last letter. One more miss and Cody would be the winner.
    â€œThis is where I excel,” Cody said, dribbling out to the top of the key. “Nailing down the win. Hitting the tough shot. Putting unbelievable pressure on my opponent.”
    Jessica rolled her eyes. “I know one thing,” she said. “You’re putting unbelievable pressure on your mouth with your lips flapping like that.”
    Both of them were pretty good at trash talk. That was half the fun of the game, seeing if you could get under the other player’s skin or make them laugh to throw off their shot.
    Cody dribbled between his legs and put up a seventeen-footer. Swish . Jessica groaned as she retrieved the ball.
    â€œI can’t believe how lucky you are,” she said.
    â€œLuck has nothing to do with it,” Cody said. “It’s all about natural athletic ability. And an incredible laserlike focus. Not to mention a burning will to win.”
    â€œPuh-leeze,” Jessica said, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes as she readied to shoot. “Now you’re making me nauseous.”
    This time her shot bounced off the back of the rim and caromed into Mrs. Hoffman’s flower bed.
    Cody shouted, “Yessss!” pumped his fist, and danced wildly around the driveway.
    â€œWell,” Jessica said, shaking her head, “at least you’re a classy winner. At least you’re not rubbing it in.”
    â€œIt’s hard to be humble when you’re me,” Cody said, nodding and holding his arms aloft, as if acknowledging the roars of a crowd. “Someone who wants the ball in pressure situations. Someone with ice water in his veins.”
    â€œThere must be at least one sports cliché you haven’t used this afternoon,” Jessica said. “But I sure can’t think of it.”
    â€œAdmit it. The chunkster’s got game,” Cody said.
    â€œYou’re not the chunkster anymore,” Jessica said. “Looks like you lost a few pounds, Wisconsin Boy.”
    Cody felt himself blush and hoped Jessica didn’t notice. They kept shooting baskets even after the game was over, enjoying the last of the warm afternoon sun. They talked about school and Cody’s baseball team and Jessica’s softball team and her karate lessons.
    â€œBeen meaning to ask,” Jessica said. “What’s going on with Dante? Is he still bothering you?”
    Now Cody wore a pained look. “You had to bring him up, huh?” he said. “And here we were having such a good time.”
    â€œSorry,” Jessica said. “Guess the answer is yes.”
    â€œDante still wants to punch my lights out, if that’s what you mean,” Cody said. “He’s still as friendly as a