OCR Text |
Show The girls straggled over to the coach, forming a loose circle around her. Kim leaned against the rough, rust brick wall and listened to the coach. "Come on, hustle ", she called to one of the girls who had been acting silly. The girl was brushing her long thick hair down at one end of the court. "This isn't a fashion show!" The girl looked embarrassed and stuffed her brush into her purse. As soon as Miss Fites had the attention of all the girls, she told them that she expected total dedication from the members of the team. Grades, boys, food,-nothing was to be more important than basketball. She asked any girls who didn't feel they could make such a commitment to leave. No one did. Then she wrote down the name, grade, weight, and height of each girl. After the last girl had given her statistics, Miss Fites called out in a heavy Maine twang, "I want you to divide into groups of five and go to a different standard. Each person is to shoot twenty shots at each basket. Lay-ups at number one," she said pointing to the north basket, "jump shots at number two, foul shots at number three..." The balls are over in that brown barrel. Miss Fites nodded towards the plastic bin. "After you finish shooting at each station, come over 82 |