The Middle Moffat (20 page)

More exciting still, the ball would land on the rim of the basket, teeter back and forth for several seconds, with all the players on her side willing it in, and she willing the hardest; and all the players on the other side willing it to fall outside. But, of course, in a breathtaking moment the ball would slide in, and again "Hurrah for Janey Moffat!" everybody would yell.

These were very pleasant thoughts. Jane turned over on her back, stared vacantly at the clouds and wondered why she had not considered joining the basketball team sooner. It was rather late in the season, but possibly by joining now she would save the team from a season of disgrace. This sometimes happened in the Barbour books.

The girls went back into the gymnasium, the umpire's whistle blew shrilly, and there was a loud burst of shouting. An exciting moment! "Yes, I's'pose I should join," said Jane. She rubbed the bits of grass and clover off her skirt and legs and crossed the street.

She pushed open the door into the new parish house. It still smelled of plaster and paint. She tiptoed through the assembly room and skirted the little platform where the minister stood. There was a white sheet tacked on the wall behind this, swaying in the breeze. Here the minister showed his lantern slides of his journey to the Holy Land every Friday evening.

The door that led into the gymnasium was ajar and she went in. Goodness, what a noise! Screaming. Yelling. Bouncing. Banging. Stamping. Jane hugged the side wall and moved cautiously over to the back window, which looked out on the carbarn.

She leaned her elbows against the windowsill and watched the practicing. No one noticed her and she was glad of that. The players were all rapt in what they were doing. Jane didn't see how any of them could tell what they were doing, though. She thought the idea of the game was to get the ball through the basket. However, they seemed often to miss what looked to Jane like marvelous opportunities to toss it in, but bounced it off somewhere else.

"Oh, I am stupid," muttered Jane. "Of course, some are supposed to keep the others from doing what they want to do."

That was the game of it!

Jane was beginning to think that she should read more of the Barbour books and find out what the rules were. And just then the umpire blew her whistle and everything stopped. The girls came over to the side seats and sat around in groups and talked and laughed. All of a sudden someone grabbed Jane around the shoulders. It was Mary Jetting, a girl a class or two ahead of Jane in school. M. J. Her initials were the same as Jane's, only backward.

"Hello, Jane," she said. "I didn't know you played basketball."

Jane smiled.

"Do you want to join the team?"

Jane smiled again, saying neither yes nor no. She wasn't sure.

"Come on, Jane. Help us out. Midge Egan sprained her ankle, had to drop out. We're in a pickle. Big game with the Congoes in half an hour. We're warmin' up now. How about it?"

Jane smiled again. She felt embarrassed because everybody had gathered around and was staring at her.

"Aw, she's too small," said one big girl.

"She's not," defended Mary Jetting. "She's small. But not too small. She's probably fast and wiry and can dart in and out like an eel. I know her type."

Dart in and out like an eel,
thought Jane. She would remember that.

"Can you throw a basket?" asked someone.

Before Jane could answer, someone thrust the huge round basketball into her arms.

"Let's see you throw a basket, Peewee," the girl said.

Jane felt too shy to resist and ran out onto the shiny floor.

I hope it's as easy as tiddledywinks,
she thought dubiously.

The ball seemed enormous. She stopped below the basket. She held the ball high above her head a second, popping off several buttons from her guimpe as she did so. Then she threw the ball with all her strength. Up, up, up, and into the basket. No teetering on edges. A clean throw! Right through the basket!

The girls screamed. They cheered and blew whistles. Jane stood below the basket, embarrassed. She looked down at her sneakers. She was surprised herself. And she was a little proud but she was resolved not to grow puffy or stuck-up about it.

"Where've you
been
all these weeks, Peewee?" Mary Jetting asked.

"Just around," replied Jane modestly. She kept wondering to herself whether she had sent that ball through the basket by accident or because she really was good.

The big girl on the team had the same doubts. "Do it again, Peewee," she said implacably.

Jane grabbed the ball again. She hugged it to her and stood under the basket, hoping for the best. She threw the ball again. This time she threw it so hard she broke one of the straps of her suspender dress. But the ball shot up and up and clean through the basket again, as beautifully as the first time. For a moment everybody stood there in silence. Jane was struck dumb herself. Suddenly everybody burst into cheers.

While the girls cheered. Janey again fastened her eyes on her sneakers in modesty, and tried not to smile too hard or seem self-satisfied. Then the team formed in a circle, and keeping up a steady, running gait the players took turns throwing baskets.

Jane got the ball in the basket every time it was her turn to throw.

She didn't understand it herself. Beginner's luck, she decided. While this warming up was going on, the other team, the Congoes, rushed into the gymnasium. With a
yip-yippy-yip,
they, too, formed into a circle and started warming up at the other end of the hall.

Like Indians dancing around the campfire,
thought Jane.

Suddenly the umpire blew her shrill whistle. All the girls on both the teams rushed to the middle of the floor. And Jane was part of that yelling, bouncing, whistling, and stamping she had listened to so many times from the Green when she was watching the ants. She had no idea what was going on. Everybody else seemed to know. But she didn't.

There were three things that Jane knew definitely about basketball. One was you tried to get the ball through the basket. Another was you must not run with the ball. Just bounce it where it was going or pass it. Then Mary Jetting had said she could weave in and out like an eel. Weaving in and out like an eel really made three things she knew.

If it were left to Jane she would have preferred to spend the entire time throwing baskets. She was so good at that. She wasn't so good at bouncing. Someone always got the ball away from her. So until she had a chance to throw baskets, she resolved that weaving in and out like an eel would be her contribution to the game. This she proceeded to do.

The trouble with this game,
she thought as she darted here and there,
is that I can't tell my team from their team.
All the girls were wearing white middy blouses and dark blue bloomers.
There must be some way of telling us all apart,
Jane reasoned. But she couldn't stand still long enough to figure it out. And Mary Jetting was the only girl she really knew on her team. All the while Janey was trying to see how you could tell one team from the other, she kept weaving in and out like an eel, fast and wiry, like Mary Jetting had said. She hoped she was doing some good for the right side.

It was very confusing. Especially as some of the girls, Jane assumed they were enemies, occasionally shouted at her, "Hey, kid, get off the floor."

This really embarrassed Jane. She realized she was not dressed properly. Her skirt was tight and had torn at the seams. Her guimpe was sticking out of her skirt. Buttons had popped and her stockings kept falling down.

She wished she could get hold of the ball and throw some baskets. Ah! Ouch! Someone thrust the ball into her stomach, nearly knocking all the breath out of her. Janey's arms automatically closed around the ball. Here was her chance!

She balanced for a second. Then she threw the ball. Up, up, and up! You could almost hear the girls holding their breath. Up and through the basket. Straight through it. Clean. Hurrah! Score! Everybody yelled. Jane pretended she did not realize the yelling was in her honor.

"It's nothin'," she muttered.

Now the game became wilder. Jane's hair came un-braided and it kept falling into her eyes. It was hard to see and it was hard to have to keep on pulling up her stockings and her petticoat. In spite of these impediments, Jane kept on darting in and out like an eel. She was resolved to play a good game, fast and wiry, to keep her reputation and be a credit to Mary Jetting. Whenever she could she threw a basket.

After a while Jane began to wish she could play a more spectacular part in this game. More baskets! She had thrown three but she wanted more. One every minute. That's what she wanted. Fast and wiry and slipping in and out like an eel was all right as far as it went, and if it were meant to throw consternation into the ranks of the enemy, she was doing the best she could. However, throwing baskets, hearing the cheers! That's what she liked.

"Phew!" she breathed, pushing the hair off her forehead and wiping her brow. She was getting tired. Now she

would like to win the game quickly, be acclaimed as a hero, and go home. She was horrified when Mary Jetting passed her and said desperately, "We got to do better. Score's fourteen to six. Favor of the Congoes."

Gracious! Her side was losing. This would never do. She resolved to stop this weaving in and out like an eel and try to get hold of the ball, throw it through the basket again and again. Get the score up to fourteen at least. But she was so much smaller than most of the other girls that just as she was about to encircle the ball with her arms, somebody came along and bounced it away from her.

"Good work, Peewee," Mary Jetting yelled at her once, although she had no idea what she had done. She certainly had not thrown another basket. With a sigh, Jane resumed her weaving in and out like an eel. She began to wish that someone else would win the game, be acclaimed as a hero, so they could all go home. She paused for a moment, looked up at the basket, thought practice more fun than the actual game of basketball. And she thought tiddledywinks more fun than practice.

At this moment the whistle blew! The girls yelled! The two teams separated. End of the first half! Janey saw Mary Jetting gather her team in a little circle. Heads close together, legs and feet far apart, the girls looked like a wigwam. The other team did the same. Jane felt left out of things.