Hoop Queen Read online

  I look up, and Daddy’s face is red.

  “Well,” I go on, “if people see the name right on our backs during our games, they’ll know y’all are real nice people! Then they’ll want to read the paper.”

  Miss Laura laughs.

  Daddy’s face is still a little red. “I’m sorry, Laura,” he says. “Kylie Jean, come on, now.”

  “No, no,” Miss Laura says. “Kylie Jean, thank you for coming to see me. I think you’ll make a very wise businesswoman someday.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I say.

  “How many girls are on your team?” she asks.

  “There are ten of us,” I tell her. “Cara, me, Lucy —”

  Daddy interrupts me. “You don’t need to tell her all the names, sweetheart.”

  “When is your first game?” Miss Laura asks, smiling at me.

  “This Saturday is our first game,” I tell her.

  “What’s your team’s name?” she asks.

  “We’re the Honey Bees,” I tell her.

  ”All right,” Miss Laura says. “Your daddy and I will talk, and we’ll order the uniforms for your team.”

  “Oh, thank you!” I cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  On Saturday morning, Daddy doesn’t just drop me off at the gym. He parks the car and comes in with me. “Don’t you have to go?” I ask.

  Daddy smiles. “Nope. I have to check on something here first. And then I’m staying for your game!” he tells me.

  I bite my lip. I’m really nervous about the game. I’m okay with dribbling now, but if I have to make a free throw, I don’t know what will happen! I’m so nervous it feels like I swallowed some bees, and they are buzzing in my belly.

  When we walk in, the first thing I see is Coach Pappy. He’s standing in front of some big brown boxes.

  “Oh, good!” Daddy says. “Looks like the delivery made it.” He winks at me. Then he calls out, “How do they look, Pappy?”

  Pappy smiles. He reaches into a box and pulls something out. It’s a new basketball uniform!

  The shirt is gold and pink, and the shorts are black. The front of the shirt says “Honey Bees” and has a picture of a bee. Each shirt has a girl’s last name printed on the back, and a number, and it says the newspaper’s name.

  The best part of the uniform is the socks! They have black and gold stripes. Now we really will look like bees!

  “They look wonderful!” I tell Daddy.

  “Go try yours on,” Daddy says.

  Pappy blows his whistle, and everyone gathers around. He hands out shorts, a jersey, and a pair of socks to each girl. “Change in the locker room. See you back out here on the court for our game!” he says.

  Before long, we’re all dressed. Even from inside the locker room, I can hear the fans. It sounds like there are a lot of them!

  “We’re going to win!” Cara says.

  Lucy moans. “I don’t feel too good,” she says quietly.

  I pat her on the back. “You’re just nervous,” I tell her. “It’ll be okay. We Bees have your back.”

  Lucy smiles a teeny tiny smile and nods her head.

  Then we hear Coach Pappy blow the whistle two times. That means it’s time to go play our very first game!

  The Honey Bees run out to the gym. It is packed full of people. The bleachers on both sides look like walls made out of faces. Now I’m feeling jittery, too.

  I look up into the stands. At first, I feel dizzy. Maybe joining the basketball team was a bad idea!

  Then I see my bus driver, Mr. Jim, so I wave. He waves back.

  Then I see Ms. Clarabelle, our neighbor, so I wave nice and slow, side to side, my beauty queen wave. She waves back.

  Then I see my family. Everyone but Pappy is sitting in the very front row. I blow them all kisses. They are my fans.

  Uncle Bay holds up a sign that says, “Go Smiley Kylie!” T.J. waves. Daddy gives me two thumbs-up. I sure wish Ugly Brother could see my first game, but they don’t allow dogs in the gym, so I’ll have to tell him all about it later.

  I grab Lucy’s hand, and we run out to the middle of the basketball court together. The other team is already out there.

  We’re supposed to try to beat each other, but we like those girls, so we hug and give each other high-fives.

  Finally, the referee blows his whistle and motions for our teams to go to opposite ends of the court. He is sort of the boss of the game. I can tell you one thing: I sure don’t want to get on his bad side.

  Cara is the tallest girl on our team, so she walks to the center of the court for the tip-off. The referee will throw the ball up in the air. One girl from each team will stand in the middle of the court and try to slam that jump ball over to her team.

  We all get ready to play. The whistle blows, Cara jumps, and the ball flies in our direction. Then we’re all running around like crazy!

  I keep getting confused. We run to their end of the court. Susie has the ball. I wave my hands in front of her, so she can’t shoot. That’s my job.

  She tries to shoot, but the ball bounces off the hoop. I get it and dribble back to our end of the court. Then the game goes on.

  At the end of the first quarter, we have two points, thanks to Cara. The other team has none. We still have three more quarters.

  Coach Pappy pulls me and some girls out and puts other girls in the game. I’m glad to get pulled out. I want to rest on the bench and let some of the other girls play too. He leaves Cara in, because she’s our best player.

  The game starts up again. In the stands, Cara’s daddy shouts, “That’s my girl! You’re open. Shoot!”

  Swish! The ball goes through the net. The score is 4 to 0, and we are still winning. Then the Shooting Stars score. 4 to 2.

  The teams move to our end of the court. Lucy throws the ball to Cara, but a player from the other team catches it. They dash down the court to the other basket, shoot the ball, and bam! We are tied 4 to 4.

  No one scores during the third quarter. We’re still tied when Coach Pappy puts me back in during the fourth quarter. It’s almost the end of the game.

  I pass the ball to Cara, and she makes her shot. The ball swirls around the rim of the basket and goes in.

  Six to four, and the crowd goes wild!

  Now it’s the Stars’ turn to move the ball to their end of the court. We run.

  I try to get ahead of the girl who has the ball, but she’s too fast this time. She shoots and scores.

  Now we’re tied again, 6 to 6. The game is almost over. We just can’t lose now!

  I have the ball, and I start dribbling toward our basket. Cara shouts, “Kylie Jean, pass to me!”

  I look up.

  She’s pretty far away, but I might be able to make it. But I’m close to the basket. Thinking fast, I get ready to shoot.

  This might be the shot that wins the game!

  I tell myself, “You can do it!”

  Daddy hollers, “Shoot, Kylie!”

  I raise my arms, ready for that ball to go sailing through the air and win the game for the Bees.Then, suddenly, I’m kissing the wood floor. A girl from the Stars knocked me over just to keep me from making a basket!

  A whistle blows. I just got fouled!

  First, I’m a little mad. Then I’m worried. I have to make a free throw.

  My feet feel like they’re stuck to the floor. The ref keeps waving at me. Finally, he walks over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “You can shoot from the free throw line, honey,” he says. “You can’t shoot from here. Okay?”

  I nod. I’m so scared that I’m going to miss the basket. But I follow the referee anyway.

  I put my feet right at the edge of the white line. Then I look up. My whole family is standing up, waiting for me to shoot.

  They start chanting, “Kylie Jean! Kylie Jean! Kylie Jean!”

  “Okay, I’m ready now,” I say.

  The ref gives me the ball and steps back. The girls from the Shooting Stars are all in position. I clos
e my eyes. Then, quick as lightning, I make the shot.

  The ball flies through the air. It hits the basket and bounces away.

  A girl on the Shooting Stars grabs the ball and dribbles down the court.

  Just as the buzzer rings, she makes a basket.

  The Stars win.

  It’s all my fault.

  That night after supper, T.J. asks Daddy to shoot hoops with him. When they go out to the driveway, I find Ugly Brother in the living room, trying to take a nap. My dog snores really loud and grunts like a pig.

  “Come on, Ugly Brother,” I tell him. “You need to get some exercise.” He doesn’t move.

  I pull on his collar a little bit. “I need you to help me with my free throw,” I explain.

  He opens one eye.

  “If I stand on your back and throw the ball, I’ll be tall enough to get it in the basket,” I say.

  He closes his eye.

  “Don’t you want to help all those sad doggies who don’t have homes?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips.

  Ugly Brother sighs. Then he gets up and walks to the front door.

  Outside, I ask Daddy, “What’s the score?”

  “I’m ahead by two,” he tells me. “It’s 10 to 8.”

  Daddy makes one more basket. Then he says, “I have some work to finish up tonight. We’ll have to play again later.”

  “Aw, man,” T.J. complains. “No fair, Dad. I can beat you. Let’s play for just a few more minutes.”

  “Sorry, son,” Daddy says. He heads for the back door. T.J. drops down on the grass to cool off.

  Now it’s my turn. I push Ugly Brother over to the spot where the free-throw line usually goes. Then I get the basketball. Very carefully, I put one foot up on Ugly Brother’s back, but I can’t hold the ball and get my other foot up too. I am wobbling around like a baby who is trying to walk.

  “Kylie Jean, you’re gonna kill that dog!” T.J. says. “What are you trying to do?”

  “You should help me, T.J.,” I say. I explain all about my terrible free throw. T.J. nods like he understands. He gets up and walks over to me. Then he takes the ball and throws it.

  Swish. It goes right in.

  “Just tell me how to throw like that,” I tell him. “Then I can be good and get points for my team.” I don’t add that I want to get some free throws in the Free Throw Tournament, too.

  Dribbling the ball around the driveway, T.J. asks, “Do you think I always made baskets like that when I was your age?”

  “I was a baby then,” I say. “So I don’t remember too much.”

  “You need to learn my special shot,” T.J. tells me. “And then you have to practice it fifty times. No, make that a hundred times.”

  “Show me,” I say.

  He squats down, holding the ball. Then he jumps up, pushing the ball forward with all of his might.

  The ball is going so fast and so far! It rattles the hoop as it slams into it. Then it slips through the net.

  “Your turn,” T.J. says.

  I have to spread my feet far apart to hold the ball like T.J. did.

  He’s watching me. He shouts, “Jump and push the ball.”

  I do, but I miss.

  “Try again,” T.J. says.

  The second time, the ball just barely touches the edge of the net.

  I’m not going to give up.

  This time, the ball soars up . . . up . . . and up.

  Then it slowly travels down through the net and lands on the driveway.

  T.J. cheers. “Way to go, Lil’ Bit!” he says. “I knew you could do it. You just needed to learn my super special shot.”

  “T.J., you’re the best,” I say. “Thanks a lot for teaching me how to shoot.”

  “Keep working on it,” T.J. says. “You remember what I told you, right?”

  Ugly Brother looks at me, and I look at him.

  “Wait a second,” I say as T.J. walks toward the house. “Do I really have to shoot ninety-seven more times?”

  He nods. And if you have a big brother, you know you have to do what they say!

  Every day for the next week, I practice free throws. After school, I shoot free throws. After I finish my homework, I shoot free throws. After dinner, I shoot free throws.

  At first, I’m not so good. On Monday, I shoot a hundred free throws and only make five of them!

  But I keep trying. On Tuesday, I shoot a hundred free throws again. But this time, I make eleven of them.

  On Wednesday, I work harder. I shoot a hundred and ten baskets. And I make twenty-five!

  On Thursday, I shoot a hundred baskets. This time, I make forty of them.

  On Friday, I decide I should rest my arms. I only shoot twenty-five baskets. But I make fifteen of them. That’s more than half!

  When I’m done shooting baskets, I stop by all of my neighbors’ houses and ask them to pledge for the tournament.

  Everyone gives me a pledge. Miss Clarabelle pledges a whole dollar for every single basket that I make!

  I’m excited and nervous for Saturday. My tummy feels nervous, like there are a hundred little bees buzzing around in there.

  On the day of the Free Throw Tournament, all of the Little Dribblers meet at the gym right away in the morning. “Good luck, puddin’ pop,” Daddy says as he drops me off. “You’ll do great today.”

  “I hope so, Daddy,” I say. “I truly do.”

  The Free Throw Tournament starts at 8 a.m. sharp. There are a lot of kids here. Boys and girls are in the gym, ready to make their best shots!

  We each get ten minutes to make as many baskets as we can. There are four hoops in the gym, so four people shoot at one time. Cara, Lucy, Susie, and I are all shooting at the same time. We have about twenty minutes before it’s our turn.

  I look at my pledge sheet. A whole lot of people think I can make the baskets today.

  Momma added it all up for me last night, and I’ll make more than fifteen dollars for each basket! That’s a whole lot of money for sad, lonely doggies.

  And it could be enough to win. T.J. said the winner made three hundred dollars when he was a Little Dribbler. I do the math in my head. I’d have to make twenty baskets to make that much money.

  I don’t know if I can do it, but I sure hope so.

  When it’s my turn, I step up to the basket. There’s a lady with a stopwatch and a piece of paper. She’ll write down every basket I make. “Do you have your pledge sheet?” she asks.

  I hand it to her. “Thanks. Let me know when you’re ready,” she says.

  I squeeze my eyes tight and think about Ugly Brother. This money is for his friends, so that they never have to be lonely or hungry.

  Then I look at the lady. “Okay,” I say.

  She pushes a button on the stopwatch. “Go!” she says.

  I miss the first basket. But I make the second one, and the third. I miss the next one, but make three more after that. I can’t believe it when the lady blows her whistle.

  “Time’s up!” she says.

  “How many did I make, ma’am?” I ask.

  She looks down at her paper.

  I feel disappointed. I think I must have only made about ten baskets.

  The lady counts the marks she made on her paper. “You made twenty-seven baskets!” she tells me.

  Then she looks at my pledge sheet and her eyes get wide. “That’s more than four hundred dollars!” she adds. “You did a great job!”

  I smile wide. I only wanted to make twenty baskets so I could make three hundred dollars for those doggies. And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. But I did!

  Yay! I am prouder than a mama hog with ten piglets.

  Cara and Lucy run over to me. We share our scores. Cara made thirty-three baskets. She’s a basketball star! And Lucy made sixteen.

  We are all proud of how we did today. But I am still hoping I’ll be the Little Dribbler Queen!

  We eat snacks. We watch other kids shoot baskets.

  Finally, a man turns on a mic
rophone. He says, “If everyone will find a seat, we will announce this year’s Little Dribbler Queen and King.”

  Cara and Lucy and I find a place to sit on one side of the gym. Out on the court, some boys T.J.’s age are moving a small platform into the center. Soon we will find out who the queen is. I sure hope it’s me!

  Some people are still coming in with nachos and hot dogs from the food stand in front of the gym. I am way too anxious to eat anything. I see Susie on the other side, and she waves to me.

  I think about all the people she is trying to help at the Grace Food Bank. We have a lot of food to eat at our house. Momma probably has about a million cans in the pantry.

  That makes us lucky. Susie is making some more people lucky today.

  The lady who counted my baskets steps up onto the platform with a microphone. “I bet y’all want to know who our next Little Dribbler Queen and King are going to be. Right?” she asks us.

  Everyone shouts, “Yes!” We are all getting antsy, and nobody wants to wait anymore to hear the winners. Especially me!

  The lady talks some more about the history of the Little Dribbler King and Queen and all of the good things the past winners did with their money.

  I tap my feet on the floor. They announce the Little Dribbler King. He made $350, and he’s giving the money to some people who help make nice parks.

  Then it’s time to announce the Little Dribbler Queen.

  “This year’s winner made more than four hundred dollars!” the lady says. “In fact, that’s a Little Dribblers record.”

  Please, let it be me! I think.

  The lady smiles and says, “Kylie Jean Carter has collected $411.75 for Places for Pups and is our new Little Dribbler Queen.”

  I jump up! I don’t run, because beauty queens don’t run. Slowly, I walk to the platform.

  “Congratulations, Kylie Jean! You are our new queen!” the lady exclaims.

  Then she gives me a special basketball with a red ribbon tied around it and puts my new crown on my head. It is sparkly, with little orange stones in the shape of a basketball.