Laggan Lard Butts by Eric Walters

chapter one
    â€œBackdoor! Backdoor!” I screamed as I saw the play develop.
    My teammate, Cody, turned and stared at me with an openmouthed look of confusion on his face as his man went backdoor and scored an easy lay-up.
    I opened my mouth to say something, but I stopped myself. Coach had been pretty clear what he’d do if I said anything rude to anybody during the game. I bit my tongue and wentto take the inbound pass while everybody else ran to the other end of the court.
    Taylor—or was it Tanner?—was ready to toss it in to me. No it
was
Taylor. I’d known the twins for nine years—we’d met the first day of kindergarten—but I still had trouble telling them apart at a glance.
    â€œThat was pretty impressive, Sam,” Taylor said as he tossed the ball in.
    â€œYou thought that play was impressive?” I asked in shock.
    â€œNot the play. You keeping your mouth shut
about
Cody’s play. Don’t waste your time with Cody,” he said under his breath as we started up the court. “The only back door Cody knows is the one that leads to his kitchen.”
    I fought back a laugh. Cody was a little weight challenged, but then again, the whole team, except for me and the twins, was challenged in more ways than one.
    I dribbled across center. The other team had pressed all through the first half and then stopped. That was only good sportsmanship. They were up by so manypoints that it would have been rubbing it in to continue to press.
    They knew they couldn’t lose. We all knew that. I’d long ago given up any thoughts of actually winning. Come to think about it I don’t think I had those thoughts even before the game had started. All I wanted was not to lose too badly.
    â€œThree!” I yelled out.
    Taylor and Tanner reacted instantly, while Cody and Travis bumped into each other trying to get to the same place. I felt like screaming directions at them—or yelling something else—but what was the point? Neither of them was very good, but they were actually the fourth-and fifth-best players on the team. We didn’t have a bench. No we
did
have a bench, but the people sitting
on
the bench couldn’t play basketball to save their lives.
    Tanner cut around the screen. I knew it was Tanner because I saw the number on the back of his jersey. I sent the ball in, and he stopped and popped a shot. It dropped for a basket!
    The crowd gave a big cheer. I turned and scowled at them. It wasn’t our home game. We were so pathetic that the other team’s fans were cheering for us. Pity applause. I wanted to say something to them as well. I looked down and saw our coach and my homeroom teacher, Mr. Davidson, and I shut up—again. I put my head down and ran back to our end.
    â€œZone two!” I called out, setting our defense.
    There was no point in chasing them for the last two minutes of the game. Victory was way out of reach. If we didn’t pressure them maybe they wouldn’t try to score. We could at least make it harder for them to backdoor Cody again.
    Their point guard stayed up high, away from the paint, eating up time. They didn’t need to score, and, to be honest, I was happy if nobody scored. I just wanted the game to end so the score wouldn’t get any more lopsided.
    â€œCampbell!” Coach Davidson called out. He always called us by our last names during the games. “Pressure the ball!”
    Obviously he thought we weren’t losing badly enough, because he couldn’t possibly think we could win. Nobody could be that stupid.
    I moved out toward the ball carrier. He turned his back and used his body to shield the ball. He kept on dribbling. I wasn’t getting any closer. Let him dribble out the clock.
    He looked over his shoulder at me. “What’s a laird?”
    His question, in the middle of the game, caught me by surprise. “Um...it’s the name of our school team.”
    â€œI know