Courtside Crush: Varsity Girlfriends Book One

by Tirrell, Kayla

  I put on my brightest smile before turning and facing the girls Coach put with me. They were all talking to one another. No one looked in my direction except for one junior who rolled her eyes at me before turning to face someone else.

  It was fine.

  Completely okay, really.

  Nothing to get discouraged by, I told myself.

  So why did I feel so insecure in front of my fellow teammates? I took a deep breath, hoping it didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. “Okay, so let’s focus on our strengths against them.”

  The same girl who had just made a face said something under her breath that made two nearby teammates giggle.

  Nice wasn’t going to work.

  It was time for my best Coach Scruggs impression. I straightened my shoulders and raised my voice. “Care to tell me what’s so funny?”

  But even that didn’t work. No one jumped to attention. I raised my brows at the girl in question.

  She defiantly crossed her arms over her chest and fixed me with a stare. “I just said maybe you could get on your knees and beg the other team to please let us win since that seems to be your strength.”

  Whoa.

  I knew the video was bad, but I hadn’t realized how damaging it truly was. Not only had it destroyed my pride, but it had caused me to lose the respect of my teammates. How did I think I was going to help lead them when they saw me as a joke?

  There was only way I could think to do it. And that was to play as well as humanly possible.

  When I assigned matchups, I made sure each girl knew who to guard if we should lose the tip-off. Jessica, one of the best girls on my scrimmage team, was a split second faster than her opponent tipping the ball back in our direction. Our small forward snagged the ball.

  This was the part where she was supposed to pass it to me. As point guard, it was my job to take the ball down court and call the next play, but it was like I wasn't even there. I suppressed a growl that threatened to surface as I watched her drive the ball straight to the basket, only to miss the lay-up and have the other team grab the rebound.

  They quickly put the ball in the hand of their point guard, who pointed down court, setting Daria up for an easy three from her favorite spot. The ball took a hard bounce to the right, landing in the hands of a sophomore girl whose eyes nervously flicked to me before searching for someone else to pass to.

  This time I did let a frustrated sound escape my mouth because it was obvious—they weren’t going to let me play.

  The rest of the scrimmage went like this until Jasmine’s team scored once again, putting us at 45-20. They were creaming us, and Coach finally blew her whistle. She walked to the center of the court, and we all gathered around her.

  “What. Was. That?” She had both of her hands on her hips. “That was one of the saddest excuses for playing I’ve ever seen. Charlie, your girls weren’t working together at all.” I felt a blush warm my cheeks. “And Jasmine, you guys might be up quite a bit, but it’s only because Charlie’s team was playing sloppy.”

  There were some quiet grumblings from some of the girls, but no one spoke up or argued against Coach.

  “Now, go get showered up. I hope you will do much better at our next practice, and I absolutely expect more from you at our first game, even though it’s just preseason.” She lifted her hands and used air-quotes for the last word.

  “Yes, Coach,” a choir of voices responded.

  Everyone started moving toward the locker room. I lingered and waited for each of the other girls to go ahead of me. I didn’t think I wanted to hear what they were surely whispering. Thankfully, Daria also hung back.

  “That was pretty rough,” she said, as we finally started walking off the court.

  “Tell me about it. They did not want to pass me the ball even though I am the best shot on the team. It’s like they don’t want to play with me.”

  Daria was suspiciously quiet. She was usually quick to respond with a joke or words of encouragement, so I knew something was up. I turned to her, and she refused to meet my gaze.

  “What’s going on?” I asked slowly, unsure if I really wanted to know.

  Daria bit her bottom lip and kept her eyes facing forward. “I heard some of the girls on the team talking.” She paused. “I don’t think they knew I was listening, or else I doubt they would have let me hear.”

  This was bad, and I now knew I really didn’t want to know. But I asked anyway. “What did they say?”

  She stopped. “They’re blacklisting you.”

  “What?” I shrieked.

  “Shhh.” Daria looked around, even though we were the only ones there. “They’re pretty upset about the way you acted with Anderson. Between that and your athletic probation, they’ve lost faith in you, Charlie.”

  “Okay, but how am I supposed to get their respect back if they won’t let me play?”

  Daria shrugged. “I don’t know, but I hope you figure it out fast. Preseason starts next week. And regular games are the week after. That means college scouts will start doing their rounds. I know you’re hoping to impress them, but…”

  “I might be screwed,” I finished for her.

  A sad smiled touched her lip. “I don’t know, but I hope not.”

  We didn’t say anything else as we got showered up and left the school. Even the ride to my house with Daria was uncomfortably quiet, and I knew it was because we were thinking the same thing.

  This was bad and hoping things would magically get better wasn’t going to help.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two and a half weeks.

  That was how long it had been since Anderson released the video of me at Sammi’s party. And while things had calmed down a little, life was still pretty unbearable.

  Preston and I weren’t talking, and we didn’t ride to school together anymore. We alternated days with the car and, through some unspoken rule, hitched rides with our friends on our days without it. He would text me when he was going home with one of his teammates, and I’d started asking Daria to bring me to school.

  With each passing day, things just got more awkward. I couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been better if we just talked about it, instead of letting it get out of control the way it did.

  The only time we were forced to interact was dinnertime. Our parents saw the tension between us and continued to attempt conversation around the table, but it never succeeded. Every night when we’d finished our meal, Preston booked it outside where he shot basket after basket for at least an hour—and this was on top of his regular basketball practice with the team, of course.

  I knew all the extra time spent honing his skills was because Senior Year Rematch was fast approaching, and every time I thought about it, I got more nervous.

  But it wasn’t just my relationship with my brother. It was also my teammates. The girls still didn’t respect me. The only person who gave me the time of day was Daria, and that was because she was my best friend. It had gotten so bad, even Coach pulled me aside to ask me what was going on. She’d told me if I couldn’t get them to listen, she’d be forced to pick a new co-captain.

  Then there was Jackson. We hadn’t texted since our kiss, he hadn’t shown up for Helping Hands, and I couldn’t get him out of my head.

  All of this was driving me crazy, and the only way I’d been able to cope was to pour myself into my studies. I was freakishly ahead on all my assignments.

  I sat in my usual seat in the back of the room for Mrs. Whitmore’s class. Instead of scribbling answers on the homework sheet she’d given us the night before like I would have done in weeks past, I listened as the student body president’s voice blared over the speakers with that day’s announcements. It was a boring list of things most students didn’t care about.

  “Make sure not to park in the visitor spots in front of the office. Failure to comply will result in Saturday detention. For today’s lunch, the cafeteria will be serving up chicken patty sandwiches, baked fries, diced pears,
and your choice of milk.”

  “And finally, in athletic news, the boys’ varsity basketball team will be playing their first game of the season tonight at home. They’re playing Pinebrook—boo—so let’s make sure to get out there and show them our support. Go, Mountaineers!”

  The school day had barely started, and my emotions were already on high alert with the mere mention of tonight’s game. The thought of Preston and Jackson facing off against each other caused my eyes to start watering, and I was not about to let my classmates see me cry—not after everything else that had happened.

  I got up from my seat in the back of Mrs. Whitmore’s class, and walked to her desk. Mr. Richards’ voice boomed over the speaker as he added a few more announcements.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said under my breath.

  My teacher looked up from the lesson she was going over. “Sure, Charlie. Just grab a pass and hurry back, so you don’t miss anything.”

  It was ridiculous that we were still required to carry them around our senior year, but Mr. Richards wanted every student in the hall accounted for.

  No exceptions.

  I lifted the bright yellow pass and stuck it in my back pocket as I walked out the classroom door. Just being in the hall, I could already breathe more easily. But I still went straight to the bathroom, not wanting anyone to see me upset.

  Once inside, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. As I started counting to ten, I was met with a vision of Jackson’s face. Not the smiling one I’d grown so accustomed to at Helping Hands, but his face the last time I’d seen him. His expression had been full of sadness.

  I hated it.

  And I hated how I was more affected by a guy I barely knew than all the other guys I’d dated in high school. What did that mean for me?

  I let the tears fall freely and was thankful I didn’t wear makeup that morning. After a cry fest like the one I was currently having, I was sure to look like a drowned raccoon.

  The squeak of the bathroom door made me go still. I hadn’t even hidden in one of the stalls and was on full-display when Sammi walked in. Her perfect brown curls framing her flawless, porcelain face.

  I straightened my shoulders and glared at her. With my stance, I dared her to say something—do something. Although, I hoped she didn’t call my bluff. There were so many strikes against me, I didn’t think I could handle one more. But Sammi didn’t need to know that. She only had to see the tough girl act. An act that was a bit of a hard sell since my face was currently streaked with tears.

  “Relax, Charlie. I’m not here to fight you.”

  My brow wrinkled. “Then, why are you here?”

  She lifted her hand, complete with perfectly manicured pink nails. In it was a hall pass. “I had to pee.”

  I was surprised that our teacher had let us both out at once. She usually had a strict one person out of the class at a time rule. Either she wasn’t paying attention to the happenings in her room—or she was paying too close of attention and thought someone needed to check up on me.

  My eyes narrowed. “Why are you really here, Sammi?”

  She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Maybe I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  I barked out a laugh. “That’s a good one. Maybe we can exchange friendship bracelets too?”

  “Fine.” She placed her hand on her hip. “Do you have my jacket?”

  I thought about the pink monstrosity in my locker. I’d been keeping it there waiting for the perfect opportunity to give it back to her, but Sammi was always with the other cheerleaders. I didn’t want to go into the pit of vipers, especially when Linzie was around.

  This was my chance.

  I nodded. “Give me a minute, and I’ll go get it.”

  I turned the faucet on and leaned over the sink. My cupped hands collected water, and I splashed my face several times to hide to evidence of my crying. Once I was satisfied, I grabbed some of the cheap paper towels from the dispenser and attempted to pat my face dry.

  With a deep breath, I looked back at Sammi. She watched me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  The hallways were free of other students, and mercifully, even Mr. Richards wasn’t waiting to jump out from behind a corner.

  I started turning the lock as soon as we got to my locker, but I messed up my combination under the pressure of Sammi’s intense gaze.

  She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “We do need to get back to class eventually.”

  Man, I hated cheerleaders.

  I swallowed hard as I tried again. This time, I popped it open without issue and grabbed Sammi’s pink jacket from inside. When she reached for it, I hesitated, barely stopping myself from hugging it like a total weirdo.

  This wasn’t Jackson’s, I reminded myself. It was pink and smelled like Sammi. But it was also a memento of that last night together. Would I ever see Jackson again? Who knew? But holding onto a tacky jacket wouldn’t make that happen.

  I bit the inside of my lip and took a deep breath. With a jerky motion, I shoved the jacket in Sammi’s direction. “Here.”

  As soon as it was in her hands, I slammed my locker and started to head back to class. I’d been missing long enough and didn’t want to get in trouble.

  “He misses you, you know.”

  My feet stopped. I turned to face Sammi but didn’t speak.

  “Ugh. I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Sammi looked up and down the hall before she stepped closer to me. “We are still not friends, and if you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Jackson was a mess after the party. He went crazy when you disappeared, and that’s why he punched Preston. For some dumb reason, he likes you, Charlie—a lot. And in some weird way, you’re perfect for each other.”

  Perfect for each other? My heart skipped a beat.

  There was an awkward pause before Sammi continued. “So, are you going to the game tonight?”

  I shrugged, still utterly confused by our interaction. Sammi was right when she said we weren’t friends. Probably because she was one of the cheerleaders whose hair I’d cut sophomore year. Strange how that could cause tension between people after all this time…

  “You should,” she said, as she looked down at her nails and let out an annoyed huff.

  “And what about the whole rivalry with my brother?”

  One of Sammi’s perfect eyebrows arched. “Not my problem.”

  “Okay,” I answered slowly.

  “I’m going back to class. Don’t come back in right after me. Circle the school or go to the nurse or something.”

  “But I’m not sick.”

  Sammi fixed me with a stare. “I don’t care. I don’t want to be associated with you, and you do not want to piss me off, Charlie. The only reason I’m even talking to you is because I love my cousin, and I want him to be happy.”

  “Thanks?”

  “Whatever.”

  And with a flip of her hair, she was walking down the hall back toward our class. I lingered by my locker, still a little shell-shocked by everything Sammi had just said.

  Jackson still liked me.

  And as happy as that news made me, I still didn’t know what to do about everything.

  All I knew was that I needed to be at the basketball game that evening—no matter what.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You’re not going to the game tonight,” my dad said, his voice firm.

  “Why not?”

  He lifted his brows. “Do I really need to tell why it would be a bad idea?” I didn’t answer, so my dad kept talking. “Let’s see. You and your brother haven’t spoken in weeks because of this guy. You told your mother and me that he was a good guy, but he’s constantly surrounded by drama.”

  “But he volunteers at Helping Hands!” I argued. “Shouldn’t that balance some of this out?”

  “I don’t know, Charlie. That seems to be the only
argument you have. And we’re going with it based on his word that he isn’t forced to do it like you.”

  Like me, but only for two more weeks. Then I was free of Helping Hands and free from athletic probation.

  “Okay, so let me go for Preston then.”

  My dad shook his head. “If you’re going to support your brother, then there will be plenty of other opportunities to do so.”

  “But, Dad…” My voice was whiny, and I sounded much more like a toddler trying to get out of naptime instead of a seventeen-year-old girl asking to go to a high school basketball game. What was wrong with me?

  I watched as my dad’s expression turned from one of exasperation to pure satisfaction. Whatever was about to come out of his mouth couldn’t be good.

  “How about this? You can go to the game tonight—”

  “Seriously?” This was much better than I’d expected.

  “—if Preston says it’s okay.”

  I groaned. This was much worse than I’d expected.

  My brother and I still weren’t talking. What was I supposed to do? It’s not like I could just walk into his room and say, “Hey, I know we’ve been fighting for weeks. But Dad said I can only go to the game tonight if you say I’m allowed. Yep, the game against the boy I like, and you hate.”

  No way was that happening.

  “This is so unfair!” I yelled as I stomped back to my room and slammed the door. He was my dad, and he was totally siding with Preston. How did that make sense? I wanted to scream as I paced in the small space of my room.

  I considered sneaking out, but knew Preston would see me, and I doubted he’d keep it to himself. Plus, if he had the car, how would I get to school? Walk?

  Nope, I was stuck at home.

  My phone buzzed, and I almost didn’t check it. I was still getting random texts and messages from people at school. Most of them were horrible, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with that crap right now. But for some reason, I reached for my phone anyway.

  A single text message lit up the screen. It was from my brother.

  4:49 PM