Free Break for the Basket by Matt Christopher Page A

right to play here. That’s
my
ball. This is
our
yard.
    “Come on!” Robin Hood yelled to him. “Take some shots!”
    Emmett shrugged. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’ve been playing.”
    It wasn’t okay, but he didn’t want to say so. And he didn’t want to play with anybody around, especially Robin Hood Dunbar.
     Robin Hood played on a team and he was good. Emmett had seen him play in the intramurals in the school gym.
    “Robin Hood! What have you got there?”
    The shout came from across the street. Emmett turned and saw four boys coming in a run. He recognized them all, but he didn’t
     know any of them personally. None of them were in his classroom.
    They rushed into the yard as if they did it every day. Robin Hood passed the ball to a tall redheaded boy whose name was Rusty
     Kane. Rusty dribbled for the basket and laid it up. Another boy, Glenn Long, rushed in, caught the rebound, then dribbled
     around to the side and tried a set shot.
    None of them paid the slightest attention to Emmett. They kept playing among themselves as if the place and the ball were
     theirs.

    After playing ten minutes or so, Robin Hood yelled, “Hey, Torrance! Come on and get in the fun!”
    The other boys stopped briefly, and looked at Emmett.
    “Never mind,” said Emmett.
    “Come on! Take a shot!”
    Robin Hood passed the ball to him. Emmett yanked his hands quickly out of his pockets and caught the ball. He walked on the
     court, bounced the big rubber basketball a few times, then took a set shot. The ball hit the rim and bounced off. Emmett turned
     shyly away, putting his hands back into his pockets.
    “Almost!” cried Robin Hood.
    At the door Emmett turned and continued to watch. The boys were playing pretty hard — passing, dribbling, shooting baskets.
     He wished Mom and Dad would hurry home.
    Presently there was a loud
swoosh!
and the ball crumbled lopsidedly to the ground.
    “Hey!” yelled Rusty Kane. “It sprung a leak!”
    Emmett froze. He stood staring at the ball as if he were glued to the ground.

2
    R OBIN H OOD picked up the ball. It looked like a giant, overripe orange that had been stepped on.
    “This is awful,” said Robin Hood. “I suppose you want us to pay for busting it?”
    Emmett swallowed. He took the ball. The boys clustered around him, looking at the ball with slack jaws.
    Emmett turned the ball around and around in his hands, squeezing it in places in search for the hole. At last he found it
     — a jagged cut hardly the width of his little finger.
    “Maybe we can patch it,” suggested Rusty.
    “Sure!” said Robin Hood. “That’s an idea!”
    He took the ball from Emmett. Emmett made an attempt to get it back, but he was too late.
    “How are we going to blow it up after it’s patched?” another boy asked.
    “We’ll use Joe Sutton’s air hose,” said Robin. “Come on!”
    He started off at a run, the others following.
    “That won’t work!” Emmett cried out.
    The boys stopped as if Emmett had yanked a string attached to them. “Why not?” said Robin.
    “You need a valve,” explained Emmett. “Wait a minute. I have one.”
    He ran into the house. He found the needle-like stem after a breathless search, then returned outdoors. He gave it to Robin
     Hood.
    “Come along with us,” said Robin.
    “I don’t want to,” said Emmett. “My Mom and Dad are coming home pretty soon.”
    “Okay. We’ll bring the ball back after it’s fixed.”
    The boys ran off. Emmett thrust his hands gloomily into his pockets, spun on his heels and walked back to the house. What
     a fine thing. You never saw
him
run into some stranger’s yard, pick up a basketball and play with it as if he owned it. And then, to add salt to the wound,
     as Mom would say, punch a hole in it, too. Of course, the boys hadn’t done that on purpose. But they could have seen that
     the ball wasn’t a very good one.
    A noise from the house next door pecked annoyingly at Emmett’s mind, but he was too angry