The Warriors by Joseph Bruchac

Author:Joseph Bruchac [BRUCHAC, JOSEPH]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780761382775
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

C H A P T E R E I G H T

DRILLS

“SCOOP THE BALL, MR. KURESHI,” Coach Scott growled. “This isn’t golf.”

Muhammad Kuyreshi, a Pakistani boy who was one of Jake’s two new roommates, took another quick running step and managed to thrust the head of his lacrosse stick under the elusive ball. He cradled it uncertainly, and then threw it. It bounced weakly over the ground, then rolled toward the next player in the opposite line, about twenty yards away.

As Muhammad turned and ran back to the end of their line, he gave a quick thumbs-up to Jake, who nodded to him. Before lights-out last night, Jake had showed Muhammad the right technique for scooping. He had played field hockey back home, but never lacrosse.

Sweat ran down Jake’s face, but he didn’t wipe it away. He was next in line and had to concentrate. The players had been on the field doing defensive drills for at least half an hour. Shuttle run. Foot fire. Fast break. Triangle slide. Defensive clearing. Jake was in the familiar place his mind and body went to during practices and games. Nothing else existed except this moment. He was aware only of the stick in his hand, the ball, the other players, the field, and the commands of his coach.

The ball rocketed toward him, fired hard by John Kilgore’s long arms, across the hard surface of the field. Jake gathered it in the webbing of his stick, cradled up, spun, and rolled back across. This stick wasn’t like his old one, still back at the res. But he’d gotten used to this plastic stick, and it moved in his hands as if it were part of him. Of course, Jake wasn’t aware of how he looked on the field, but the other players were. His moves were as smooth and flowing as a bird’s wing cutting through the air.

An hour later, the practice over, Jake sat on a bench in the boys’ locker room. He was alone, and everything that had not intruded on his mind while he was on the field came flooding back. He had already taken his shower and dressed. He had to get to dinner soon, but here he sat, trying to understand how he felt.

A month had passed since his arrival at Weltimore, and he’d been a boarding student for three weeks. His two roommates, Muhammad Kureshi and Kofi Anloga, were good guys. He’d never spent time with anyone from another country before, and it was kind of cool. It was interesting to hear about their homes and their families in Pakistan and Ghana. Somehow, as far away as their homes were, Jake felt as if his own home was even further. Crazy. He knew it was only an eight-hour bus ride to the reservation.

“Hey,” a voice said. “Earth to Jake.”

Jake looked up. Darris Tavares stood there, his earphones on. Electronic equipment wasn’t allowed in class, but after 5:00 P.M., everyone broke out his stuff. The sound was cranked so loud Jake could hear Pearl Jam streaming out.

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