Toby Wheeler

Author:Thatcher Heldring
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780375890567
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2007-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

The gym at Hamilton Middle School was called the Cage. The bleachers came right down to the court, leaving just enough room for the benches. With the low ceilings and bars over the windows, the room felt more like a prison yard than a place to play basketball. Or at least how I pictured a prison yard would look. We had just entered the gym when Coach stopped, snapped his fingers, pivoted, and, spying me, said, “Shoot. I forgot my clipboard in the locker room. Wheeler, do me a favor and grab it. And see if you can find a water bottle while you’re at it.”

At the moment, I was scanning the gym for Vinny Pesto, hoping that either he would not see me, or, if he did, that he would not realize he was seeing the last man on the bench. I was trying to look like I belonged by jogging slowly, not smiling, and basically doing anything possible to fit in with the others. So when Coach asked me to do an errand, he touched a nerve.

“Why me?” I asked.

Coach answered sharply. “Because I asked you to.”

I lowered my head and spoke quietly. “Sorry, Coach.”

“It’s too late for sorry, son.” He got right in my face. “Listen to me. Do you want to contribute to the success of this team?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you better get used to one idea right now. Your attitude is your contribution. When I tell you to do something, you don’t ask why, you do it. You got that?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now get back in that locker room and find my clipboard.”

I saw what was happening. Coach might have said find my clipboard, but he was really saying stay away from my daughter. There was no doubt about it. He was punishing me. Obviously, Megan had come home from school yesterday with my jacket and Coach had discovered whose it was.

Coming back from the locker room, I came face to face with Vinny Pesto, who looked at the clipboard and water bottle in my hands and began laughing hysterically. It was my worst fear.

We were standing directly in front of the gigantic display case full of the trophies Hamilton athletic teams had won over the years. Front and center were the basketball trophies.

“I thought I saw you getting off the bus,” Vinny said. Carefully, he wiped a tiny smudge from the glass. “Then I thought, Nah, that couldn’t be Toby the Gym Rat, not in an actual uniform. But now it all makes sense—you couldn’t play basketball, so they made you an equipment manager.”

I was in no mood for his sorry trash talk. I breathed on the glass and was pleased to see a foggy spot stick. Then I drew an L in the smudge—for loser. “Are you finished, Pesto?” I asked. “I have somewhere to be.”

Vinny used his jersey to clear the smudge. “Where—the bench?”

“I’ll see you on the court, Vinny,” I said with another breath on the glass.

We stared at each other. Neither of us wanted to leave the other alone in front of the trophy case.

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