Road Trip

ERIC WALTERS

Copyright © 2002 Eric Walters

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

National Library of Canada cataloguing in publication data
Walters, Eric, 1957–
Road trip

(Orca young reader)

IBSN 1-55143-201-3

I. Title. PS8595.A598R62  2002  jC813'.54    C2002-910199-9

PZ7.W17129Ro 2002

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:
2002101604

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support of
its publishing programs provided by the following agencies:
the Department of Canadian Heritage, the Canada Council
for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council.

Cover design by Christine Toller
Cover and interior illustrations by John Mantha
Printed and bound in Canada

IN CANADA
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 5626, Station B
Victoria, BC  Canada
V8R 6S4

IN THE UNITED STATES
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 468
Custer, WA   USA
98240-0468

04 03 02 • 5 4 3 2 1

For all the people who give their time and energy to help
make children's
sports happen
.

E.W.

Collect all of Eric Walters' basketball books
featuring Nick and Kia:

# 1 -
Three on Three

# 2 -
Full Court Press

# 3 -
Hoop Crazy

# 4 -
Long Shot

# 5 -
Road Trip

Other books by Eric Walters,
for older readers:

War of the Eagles

Caged Eagles

“It's pretty strange having my two guys going away without me,” my mother said as she leaned in the open sliding door of the van.

“I guess it is a little different,” I admitted.

Mom always had gone with us when we went away for basketball tournaments. Actually, we always went everywhere as a family.

“At least I'll be able to get a lot of work done without you and your dad around here to distract me.”

“That's a big plus,” I agreed. “Besides, it isn't like we'll be gone that long. We'll be back in two days. Sooner if we lose our first games.”

“I'll miss you, but in that case I'm hoping I
won't be seeing you until very, very late Sunday night,” she said as she leaned farther in and ruffled my hair. “Either way, though, remember this is supposed to be about having fun more than it is about winning.”

“I know.”

“I know
you
know, let's just hope your father and your coach remember that.”

“It will be fun,” I reassured her. “Dad said it'll be just a bunch of guys having fun.”

“Hey, do I look like a guy?” Kia questioned from the seat in the back corner.

“Okay,” I admitted as I turned around. “A bunch of guys and one girl.”

“That's better,” she huffed.

Mom flashed a big smile at Kia. “At least with you going along we know there's one responsible person to take care of everything.”

“Are you saying that Dad and Coach aren't responsible?” I asked.

She smirked, and didn't answer.

“This was certainly an
interesting
idea your coach had to exclude the parents from this trip,” my mother said.

Interesting is one of those words that means that you don't necessarily agree with something or think that it's right.

We were going far away to compete in a tournament to start our year. It was a big tournament
— one of the biggest tournaments anywhere. And the only parent going along, besides the coach himself, was my parent. My dad was sort of the unofficial assistant coach. Besides, Coach needed a second person to drive half the team.

“And why exactly did your coach think this was such a good idea?” Mom questioned.

“He said if we're going to bond as a team that a trip like this is important,” I explained.

We'd been together for only a few weeks, and half of the team were new guys. Coach thought it was important for us to become one team and not six new players and six players from last year's team.

“Bonding I understand, but why no parents?” my mother asked.

“He didn't want there to be any distractions.” “Silly me,” she said. “All this time I thought I was your mother, and now I find out I'm a distraction.”

“Come on, Mom, don't be like that. Coach knows about how important it is for us to become a team,” I said, defending his decision.

A look of doubt crossed her face for a split second and then vanished. “I'm sure he does.”

“Just think of all the championship teams he played on,” Kia added.

There was no denying any of that. Coach Barkley was practically a basketball legend from
his days playing high school and college ball. He'd even played parts of two seasons in the NBA before injuries forced him to retire.

Of course, this was the first time he'd ever tried to be a coach. His son, L.B., was part of the team and that was a big part of why he volunteered to coach. Nobody could argue with how much he knew about basketball, but there were some big problems — problems that almost caused the team to end before it even began.

Coach Barkley seemed to know everything about basketball and coaching it, but hadn't known much about coaching nine-year-old kids. He was really trying now to be more relaxed and not take things so seriously. There were still times, though, that I could see things bubbling under the surface. I was pretty sure my mother could see it too, and that was why she was anxious about not going along on this first tournament.

“Besides, Dad will be there to help take care of everything,” I offered, trying to read her mind.

“You're right,” she admitted. “Although trusting your dad to be a calm, quiet and reasonable person in the heat of a basketball game is a bit of a stretch.”

“Dad's very responsible!” I protested.

Mom huffed. “He's responsible everywhere in the world… except for the sidelines of a basket-ball game.”

That was another one of those points that was hard to argue. Something about the game often brought out another side in him.

“Speaking of your father, where is he?” my mother asked.

Almost like magic he came out of the front door. In his hand was a small overnight bag that held all the things he'd need for the next two nights. He opened the door and plopped behind the wheel, dropping the bag on the floor beside him.

“Okay, you've got the number at the hotel where we're staying, right?” he asked my mother.

“Written down on the calendar,” my mother answered.

“I guess we better get going,” my father said. “We still have four more kids to pick up.”

“Are you all sure that you have everything?” my mother asked.

All three of us nodded our heads and mumbled that we were all set.

“And Nick, do you have
everything
?” she asked me.

I could tell by the tone of her voice and the look on her face that she was doing more than asking me a question. I did a quick mental check – toothbrush, basketball shoes, CD player, underwear, bathing suit, extra shorts, basketball uniform. I was positive. I'd been extra careful. I could picture me putting all of
them into my bag and…

It was then that I saw that my mother was holding my bag.

“You left it on the bench in the entranceway,” she explained as she handed it to me.

I took the bag and quickly put it behind the third seat.

“You're going to have to take care of your own things,” my father said sternly. “Your mother isn't going to be there to take care of her little boy this weekend.”

I nodded my head. “What if we didn't notice you didn't have your bag until we got to the hotel?” he asked. “It isn't like we could drive seven hours each way to get it. It's a long drive.”