The more he thought about it, the more Derek realized he was going to have to up his game to another level. Dave and Sam had already made a great impression. But that was against kids their own age. Derek now faced a far more difficult test.

“Hey, old man. Still awake, huh?” His mom’s head peeked around the bedroom door. “Want to talk about it?”

Derek sat up in bed, and she sat down next to him. “I can’t sleep, Mom,” he said. “I keep thinking about tomorrow night.”

She put an arm around him. “It’s going to be a big test for you, Derek, for sure. But you’ve had big tests before. You know you can ace them if you focus on bringing your very best. But you won’t be able to do that if you don’t get enough sleep.”

“I just can’t!” Derek moaned. “Every time I start to nod off, it comes back into my head!”

“Well, if it helps any, Dad and I have complete faith in you. Try picturing yourself already on the team, sinking baskets and stealing balls. That might help.” She got up, tucked him back into bed, and kissed him on the forehead. “In the meantime, just visualize yourself succeeding. Or even better—think about Sharlee. Nothing’s ever going to stop her from being successful. Don’t you let anything stop you, either.”

Chapter Twelve SHOWTIME!

What if I choke and miss all my shots?

What if I throw the ball away, trying to make a dazzling pass just to impress the coach?

What if I… ?

The closer they got to the Y, the greater Derek’s dread grew. The pressure on him was enormous. In order to make the under-12 team, he had to do better than just hold his own with these older, more experienced players—he had to stand out.

When Dave had first mentioned trying out for the team together, Derek hadn’t realized how much he really wanted to do it. Somehow, he’d just assumed it would be kind of fun.

He hadn’t thought about how competitive the AAU league was—about how hard it might be to make the team in the first place.

And now Dave was counting on him.

Derek watched the windshield wipers go back and forth, back and forth, making their swishing, clicking sound. His heart beat in rhythm along with them as he sat in the backseat.

“How’re you holding up, Derek?” his dad asked from the driver’s seat without turning around.

“Fine,” Derek said flatly.

“That’s good,” said Mr. Jeter. “Don’t try to do too much, now. Just go out there and play your regular game, and you’ll be okay.”

Derek sighed and nodded. He’d heard all of it before—but knowing it wasn’t the same as going out there and doing it.