In the Paint Read Free

dark-haired woman with warm hazel eyes, Miss Dawson always seemed to have something interesting to bring up for discussion, and if anyone had questions, she usually had an answer. It seemed like she really cared, which helped Matt feel a little more secure as so many things around him were changing.
    Any negatives about the new school were offset by the excitement of sports, in particular basketball. And the excitement had been building for the last two weeks. The team’s first tryout practice was that afternoon.
    With tryouts came a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach and a pressure Matt had never felt before. He had put so much hope into making the basketball team at South Side, into following in the footsteps of his older brother, Mark, that he couldn’t bear to think about not making it.
    He and his friends had spent almost every day of the summer working out. Not just playing basketball, as in past vacations, but actually following the “workout schedule” presented by Coach Stephens when he had visited Glenview as part of the graduating grade six students’ middle school orientation program in May. That schedule had included, among other things, two hundred jump shots and one hundred free throws to be practised each day of the summer. It had also included twenty “man-makers” at the end of each workout.
    Man-maker was the nickname for a fitness drill that tended to leave most players exhausted and begging for air. It involved a basketball court but no basketball. Players had to run from the baseline, to the near free-throw line, touch that line and then return to the baseline. This was followed by an identical run-and-touch to the centerline, the far free-throw line, and the far baseline. All four trips constituted only one man-maker. And twenty of these at any kind of speed were absolutely draining on a hot summer day.
    After two months of this regimen, however, Matt noticed that his body had become firmer and that he seemed to be able to run forever during the evening pickup hoops with the older players in the neighborhood. As the others began to tire in the second or third games, he felt himself getting stronger and faster and was able to push past them on the fast break for the first time ever. The summer shooting practice had improved his range too. He could now consistently hit a pull-up jumper from fifteen feet, and he was making eight of ten free throws on a regular basis. After working on his dribble all summer, he was now almost as good with his left hand as with his right. Matt approached these middle school tryouts knowing he had never been a better basketball player.
    Still, was he good enough to make the South Side squad? A voice in his head was telling him not to be so sure. If he had been six feet or taller, like a handful of the boys who would be at tryouts, there wouldn’t be any question. But Matt was only five-foot-seven and he was only in the seventh grade. He entered tryouts as one of the shortest players. Would his skills and his fitness level be enough to earn one of the twelve spots on the varsity team? Could he make a big enough impression on Coach Stephens to secure a place even though most of the team would be older?
    Matt was well aware that there were good grade seven players coming up from the other schools that fed into South Side too. Each of them would be going all out for a spot on the varsity. The hard truth was there just weren’t many spots up for grabs.
    As he approached the gym, which was tucked into the west end of the two-story South Side building, Matt felt the insides of his stomach flipping about and a light sweat breaking on his forehead. He hadn’t ever been this nervous before. But then again, he had never had quite as much riding on his performance, either.
    He drew a deep breath as he walked through the double wooden doors of the South Side gym. The waiting was over.

chapter three
    â€œOkay, people, listen up,” Coach