Excerpt
Although Bambi was in a quiet, reflective mood, the rest of the bubblegummers, as the waitress referred to them, were in a constant state of motion, laughing and yelling. The uproar they produced was enough to strain the sanity of all but the strongest or deafest of the adult generation. Bambi didn’t usually notice the volume because he was a participant and not an observer. Tonight things were different, and the noise was getting on his nerves. After scribbling down Corky’s order, the waitress turned to Bambi. "Just a root beer, please," he mumbled.
As the weary lady returned to the kitchen, Corky studied his companion. Finally he blurted out, "Bambi, what’s the matter with you? You hardly said a word all the way down here, and now you don’t order anything to eat. That’s just not like you at all. Is there somethin’ buggin’ ya?"
Bambi made a gesture of uncertainty with his hands and heaved a loud sigh. "Yeah, there is. It’s that stupid basketball game. I’m getting sick and tired of losing so much."
"But you can’t do anything about that. It’s not your fault that the Madison Choke Artists staged another classic come-from-ahead-defeat."
"I know, but it still bugs the snot out of me. Did you notice how tired those guys were in the fourth quarter? They aren’t in very good shape at all. I’ve heard that some of them are smoking and drinking. I really think that some don’t give a rip about the team."
"Holy hangnail, Bambi. You can’t let that get you down. Wait until we get into high school; then we’ll show them how it’s done."
"Yeah, maybe." Suddenly Bambi’s face lit up. "Yeah! Yeah!" he almost shouted the last one. "That’s it! I’ve got it!"
"I hope it’s not contagious."
"I’ve got an idea of something I can do, no…that we can do – now. A team needs to stick together, right?" Bambi didn’t even wait for Corky to reply. "I think it’s time we started preparing for our high school careers right now."