Bad-Luck Basketball by Thomas Kingsley Troupe Page B

Brandon said. He opened his locker, pulled out his books, and slammed the door. “Where is he?”
    Tony pointed down the hall to where a crowd of people had gathered near the bathrooms. Brandon knew he only had a few minutes before the bell rang, so he had to be quick.
    â€œUh-oh,” Kevin whispered loudly as he saw Brandon approaching. “Here comes bad-luck Brandon now!”
    Normally Brandon got along with Kevin just fine, but things were getting out of hand.
    â€œReal cool, Kevin,” Brandon said, shaking his head. He saw a few of the people in the crowd laughing and smirking.
    â€œSorry, Brandon,” Kevin said with a goofy grin. “I’m just telling the truth. Everyone wondered how we lost the game by so many points.”
    â€œSo you’re blaming me for the loss?” Brandon said. “You missed practically every pass that came your way. That wasn’t much help.”
    â€œYeah, but I’m not the one who walked under the ladder,” Kevin said. “You are.”
    Brandon shook his head. He knew Kevin was superstitious, but this was nuts.
    â€œMaybe your socks didn’t stink enough for us to win,” Brandon said. He knew it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to take all the blame for last night’s loss.
    â€œWe were doing fine this season until you pulled that dumb stunt,” Kevin told him. “My good-luck socks had nothing to do with it.”
    â€œDoing fine?” Brandon repeated. “We lose two out of every three games!”
    But no one seemed to care that he was right. Kevin shrugged and walked away. The crowd dispersed along with him. Apparently everyone was all too happy to blame Brandon.
    Just then, the warning bell rang signaling that class was about to start. Great , Brandon thought as he turned and took off down the hall. First I get bad-mouthed, and now I’m going to be late too.
    As he approached the classroom door, the vice principal’s voice suddenly boomed down the hallway after him.
    â€œYoung man!” Mr. Brent called. “I’m going to need you to come back here!”
    â€œYou have to be kidding me,” Brandon said. He was less than three feet from his classroom door. But as everyone knew, Mr. Brent was a stickler for safety and hated running in the halls.
    Brandon turned and smiled. “Sorry, Mr. Brent,” he called. “I was running late.”
    â€œThe late part isn’t my problem,” Mr. Brent replied. “But I could see you were running. Now that I have a problem with.”
    Brandon knew he wasn’t going to get off that easy. He turned and walked slowly back down the hall to where the vice principal stood waiting.
    â€œThat, sir, is more like it,” Mr. Brent said. “Now, let’s see you walk to class properly.”
    Brandon nodded. “Okay,” he said. “But now I’m definitely going to be late.”
    Mr. Brent nodded. As he did, the bell rang, making Brandon officially tardy for biology class.
    Brandon turned and walked to his classroom at a regular pace. He glanced over his shoulder at the halfway point to see if Mr. Brent was still watching. He was.
    As he entered the classroom, his biology teacher raised her eyebrows at his tardiness and jotted something in her notebook.
    Brandon mumbled an apology and took the only seat left at the front of the classroom. Great , he thought. More bad luck. Just what I need.

CHAPTER 3
PRACTICALLY PRACTICE
    Brandon’s day didn’t get any better as it went on. A cloud of bad luck seemed to hover over him. He’d forgotten his lunch at home, he managed to lose his homework, and his shirt got snagged on his seat in math class and ripped. Worst of all, everyone looked at him like he was a walking curse.
    By the end of the day, practicing for the Clovers’ final game was the last thing Brandon wanted to do. In the locker room, he plopped down on a