by E. M. Moore
“Tess!” my dad says. He’s got a happy smile on his face as he pushes the screen door open. “You’re here.”
He steps back, and I move forward. He pulls me into a hug right there in the doorway, then keeps his hand around my back as he leads me right into the living room. This is not the same living room that I ran away from a few months ago. The carpet is new. There’s a fresh coat of muted paint on the walls and a huge sectional now taking up the living room with a large—also new—TV as the centerpiece of the room.
My mind fixates on all this in moments, but then I hear Ryan’s mom as she comes out from the kitchen. “Tessa, it’s so nice to see you.”
It kills me that she’s pretty. She’s not prettier than my own mother, but she’s good looking in a different way. I can see Ryan in her features, but her face is much less angular than his. Hers is soft while he got all the hard planes. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s nice to see you, too.”
She leans down to hug me. Again, I don’t hesitate. Her grip is strong and supportive. It feels like she wants to hug me, and I’ll try. If this is going to be my dad’s new partner, I will try, but right now, it’s not about that. This is about me pretending I’m fine. No, I’m not wearing something slutty like Dawn suggested, but I’m on top of the world. At least, that’s the vibe I’m going to give off in front of everyone. Success is the best revenge and all that.
“It looks really nice in here, Mrs. Linc,” I tell her. I have to practically bite my tongue off in order to keep from saying something about my dad probably paying for all this, but regardless, I sound genuine.
“Thank you. We did a little refreshing.” She looks around the room, a smile on her face, but then her hands smooth down the apron she has on. “I just have a few little things to get done. Take a seat. Enjoy yourself. Make yourself at home.”
I wince. This will never be my home. I don’t care if my dad moves in here permanently with Ryan’s mom and Ryan ends up being my stepbrother, this will never be anything but the place where my dad lives. Instead of saying all that, I screw my face back into a smile. “Thank you.”
Dad heads over to the couch, which is probably exactly where he was when I knocked on the door. Track and field is playing on the TV, so I sit down opposite him and watch. Despite the fact that we’re not at our house, this feels familiar. Dad and I watching TV, discussing fitness levels and training regimens. Dad whistles. “Tess, have you seen this guy run yet? He is fast.” He draws the word out, his stare fixated on the TV.
I glance that way, watch as a runner stretches out his calves before settling into the blocks. He’s a sprinter. The commentator basically reiterates everything my dad just said. “Olympic hopeful?” I ask.
“You bet. They’re comparing him to Usain Bolt.”
I make my own noise of appreciation. “Good for him.”
My dad inches forward on the couch, the remote in one hand, and leans toward the TV screen. The gun goes off, and the runners jump out of the blocks. They lean forward at first, then one after the other, they move into a straight up and down gait as they sprint toward the finish line. It’s already apparent that the guy they all predicted to win is going to do so by a longshot. It is impressive. He’s impressive.
I’m blown away by athletes time and time again. The thing is, I know it takes a hell of a lot of work to get this far. People seem to think athletes like this guy just get up one day and they’re suddenly running as fast as Usain Bolt. Wrong. It takes fitness. It takes dedication. This guy literally eats and breathes running. If he didn’t, they’d never be saying these things to him.
“Alright,” my dad says as the guy crosses the finish line first. The runner holds his hands in the air while he slows down on his own time, the victory of the race clear on his face.
I turn toward my dad. “I got my fifty-yard time down.” This was something him and I have been working on for a while.
He beams at me. “That’s great, Pumpkin. You practicing at the track?”
I nod, a little taken aback that he seems surprised I’m still working out at the track. Just because he left didn’t mean I stopped our routine. “Thought I’d see you out there sometime, but I guess you’re getting a little too old for that.”
He laughs. “I’ll meet you out there, Miss Thing. It’ll have to be after camp, but I’ve got to see this new time.”
I keep smiling for him, but inside, my heart is breaking a little. We used to go to the track on our own. It was our schedule. All that is gone since he moved out. I don’t even know if he’s even been playing ball anymore, to be honest. I have to think he is. It’s not like Timothy Dale to give up shooting baskets, even if it’s for fun. Basketball is his first love.
“Tim,” Ryan’s mom calls out from the kitchen.
His head snaps up. “Yeah?”
“Can I get your help setting the table? And Tessa, would you mind getting Ryan?”
My heart freefalls into my stomach. My dad glances over at me, his expression intense as he studies me. I get right to my feet even though they wobble a little. “Of course. Where is he?”
My dad stands up much slower. He points down the only hallway in the house. “First door on the left.” He’s scrutinizing me now. I have no doubt I can convince my father that I’m okay. He doesn’t even know who I am anymore. He was there for me through the basketball season. We exchanged words about the WNBA scout, about the panty crown, about riding the bench, but basketball is the only way my father knows how to be a father. He doesn’t know how to ask me if seeing Ryan Linc right now is going to fuck me up. He doesn’t know how to make sure I can handle seeing the guy who put the final nail in my coffin a few months ago. No Ballers. No basketball. No life.
It’s okay that he doesn’t know because I won’t let the truth show anyway.
My heart thumps in my chest. I follow the new carpet right into the hallway, past the kitchen, and to the very first door. It’s so dark in the hallway, I can only make out a few other doors besides Ryan’s. He has a Lakers poster covering most of it, the star player dunking the ball. I met the guy once at one of Dad’s basketball functions. He was kind of a douche. But everyone has a bad day now and then, so it’s impossible to tell if he really is a douche or if he was just having one of those days. It goes to show you that one moment can solidify people’s opinions of you.
The door is slightly ajar, so I knock a couple times and then push it open like I belong there. Ryan immediately looks up, his eyes widening. He has a pair of Beats on, huge blue ones that cover his ears. His gaze narrows as he pulls them down. I smile. “Hey. Your mom wanted me to come get you for dinner.”
“How long have you been here?”
I shrug, the pulse at my wrist feathering. I’m putting on a brave face but seeing Ryan like this is affecting me. “Not long. Watched a little TV with my dad.”
He sits up and swings his feet to the floor. He pulls the Beats all the way off and sets them on his nightstand. The new carpet is in here, too. While he doesn’t say anything, I look around. Even though I’ve been in Ryan’s house three times now, I’ve never been anywhere except for the kitchen and the dining room/living room. There’s more basketball memorabilia in here, trophies and awards. There’s even a picture of all five Ballers tucked into the mirror above his dresser.
This makes my false bravado snag a little. I hadn’t prepared myself to see Alec and Sloan today, even if only in a picture. From the looks of it, it can’t be that old. In fact, I think it’s from this year’s championship game.
I make myself look away and right into Ryan’s gray eyes. He’s staring at me, his eyes traveling down the length of my body. Suddenly, I wish I had worn something more than just a plain tank top and shorts. Maybe a push-up bra with a shirt that showed my cleavage. Why, though? Do I want to tempt him?
I think on that for a second as he continues his perusal. I don’t think I want to tempt him. I just want to know if he’s tempted. His face is so stoic, it’s hard to get a read on
him. The moment in the shower returns. Me, freaking naked. Him, dripping blood down his knuckles from attacking Chase for me. I shouldn’t say for me. It wasn’t for me. They did it for themselves. They did it because they wanted complete control over me, and they got it.
Nonchalantly, I lean against his door frame and push the other thoughts aside. “You ready for camp?” I noticed an open gym bag in the corner when I checked his room out earlier. Since camp is the reason why we’re all here, I might as well bring it up now.
His eyes flare with something I can’t quite put my finger on before he turns away, his gaze stopping on the same bag. “Yep. Just need to throw the last-minute things in tomorrow morning.”
I open my mouth to say something else, but Ryan’s mom calls out, “Hey, you two. Dinner’s on the table.” Both he and I stare at one another again. I don’t like the sound of ‘hey, you two’. I have no idea why Ryan’s face suddenly turned pissy, but maybe that’s it for him as well.
He stands from the bed, and I quickly step out of his room and into the hall. Once I’m out of his line of sight, I feel like I can actually breathe. It feels as if I faced down a dragon and got to see the other side. I’m lucky.
Camp won’t be so bad now. I saw Ryan and the world didn’t implode, so I can see the rest of them tomorrow morning. I can go through camp with them again just like I’ve been doing since I was in middle school. The position I’m in right now isn’t new to me. The Ballers never liked me, so this is already ventured territory. No big deal.
The big deal only comes when I sit across from Ryan at the dinner table. It comes when everything seems so normal and the conversation flows so easily that I almost forget that I’m just pretending, and that for all I know, he is too.
We don’t want you, he’d said. I swallow hard as the swarm of hurt hits me in the chest once again.
I’m pretty sure that means he also doesn’t want me eating dinner with him and his mom, which only makes me try harder. I ask so many questions about the Linc’s and about Ryan when he was little, that when I finally look back over at Ryan at the end of dinner, he’s scowling and miserable, just the way I want him.
I give him a too innocent, too wide smile. Screw you, Ryan, I think. Then, I focus back on his mom for the rest of the night.
All in all, this first taste of what it will be like gives me the strength I need to get through tomorrow when it won’t be just one Baller I have to deal with, it’ll be all of them. They won’t get the better of me again. That much I can promise.
3
I drag my last bag down to the foyer, then turn toward the kitchen. I can already smell the breakfast my mom made for me. She’s yawning, one hand over her mouth, the other clutching a spatula. When she sees me, she shakes her head until the yawn ends and then smiles over at me.
“I told you you didn’t have to wake up with me,” I chastise. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled she did, especially since I feel like I abandoned her last night in favor of Dad. Hell, I’m abandoning her for weeks and probably at the time when she needs me the most.
She gives me a look but accepts my hug when I wrap my arms tight around her. “Come on, Tess. You know I always see you two—” She clears her throat and rubs my shoulder. “You know I always see you off the morning of camp.”
Pulling away from her, I take a seat at the breakfast nook and pretend I didn’t hear her slip about adding Dad into the equation. This year, I’m driving to camp by myself. I’m excited about having my car there since those of us who are going into our senior years are allowed to leave camp on the weekends as long as we have parental permission. All the other years, I didn’t have my car because I rode up with Dad, and I was also too scared to sneak out with the rest of the guys, being Dale’s daughter and all.
She finishes making the eggs and scrapes them into a serving dish before putting them on the table. There’s already a plate in front of me along with a dish of bacon, so I help myself to it all. Camp food isn’t bad, but it’s not homemade either.
Mom sits down opposite me in the circular seating area and shovels a small handful of eggs on her plate and then grabs two slices of bacon. We eat in silence until she places her fork down on the table and wipes her face with a napkin. “I want you to be careful at camp this year, Tessa.”
I take a drink of the orange juice she had waiting for me, swallowing it down forcefully like there’s a blockage in my throat. “I will, Mom.”
“I mean it,” she says. “I don’t like all this going on. This playing on the boys’ team has affected you and not for the better. Those boys…” She trails off. I have a suspicion she knows more than she’s letting on, or maybe it’s just a gut feeling she has about the boys. She asked me about the panties that were thrown onto the court last year. She knows they were actually mine, and even though I told her it was none of the guys’ fault, she doesn’t believe me. Even if I had told her Lake was most certainly behind it all, there’s nothing she could have done. It would have just caused more trouble for me. Another excuse people could use for girls not being allowed to play on the guys’ team.
“Nothing like that is going to happen,” I promise her. There will be no other girls around. Just me, the Ballers, and a handful of other guys who are into basketball just as much as we are. We don’t have time for petty Baller Bitch shit at camp. No keyed cars, no jeering. Ryan, Sloan, Alec, Hayes, and Lake aren’t the Rock Ballers of Rockport High at Camp Holly. Everyone there is as good as they are. Well, almost. They are pretty damn good.
She reaches over the table and covers my hand with hers. I push my plate away and finally give her my full attention. She starts off with a small smile. “I know you want this so badly. I can see it in your eyes. I just don’t know if it’s worth suffering through all this.”
“I’m not suffering through anything, Mom,” I try to tell her.
She isn’t buying it. She pierces me with another look. “You mean that wasn’t you crying your eyes out the night Rockport won the state championship game?”
My jaw snaps shut. “I just really wanted to play,” I tell her. It’s the truth. Despair, disappointment, all those feelings come rushing back to me. I deserved to play.
She pulls away, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s got her serious face on, which makes me squirm. “I’ve been thinking.” She breathes out. “I’m fine with you going to camp since your father will be there and you’ve been going there for a few years now, but while you’re gone, I’m going to look into enrolling you into Springs for your senior year.”
I gasp. “Mom.” This can’t be happening. I don’t want to go to Springs.
“They have a girls’ basketball team.”
My eyes practically bug out of my head. “They’re not good.”
She holds her hand up. “They have a girls’ basketball team that you could come right onto the team and be their best player. You can still get colleges to notice you even if you’re not playing at Rockport. There’s other ways to go about what you’re doing.”
My fingers grip the side of the table as anger sweeps through me. “Like getting a scout to come to my game?”
“You know I had nothing to do with that,” she says. “But I understand why your father did it. Did you think we liked hearing what those awful girls had to say to you the whole season? I don’t know how you could bear it, Tess. It’s not right. At Springs—.”
“It’s just a game,” I tell her, even though I know it’s not. I know Lake’s minions are terrible human beings. They wanted to hurt me. They came to every game to make sure everyone else knew what they thought of me, and I only had one chance to prove them wrong. Which I did, until they brought out the panty crown.
We never heard from the scout again, by the way. I guess my father’s connections only go so far anyway.
I grind my teeth together. There’s no way in hell I’m going to Springs next year. It’s further away, their basketball team sucks, and besides, none of that matters because the Ballers aren�
�t at Springs, they’re at Rockport. This has become just as much about proving myself to them than it has trying to make a name for myself. I just need them to see.
Mom stands, taking her dishes with her. “We don’t have to make a decision right now, but I am getting the information from them, Tess. I’ll talk to the coach; I’ll see what she can do for you. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to find out you’re even considering going to their school. Your talent was wasted at Rockport last year.”
“I’m not con—”
Mom drops her dishes into the sink. They clatter, silencing my refusal to even consider what she’s offering. “I thought this was about playing basketball. You didn’t even play basketball this season, Tess. You didn’t play.”
My jaw snaps shut. I stare at my mom, her hands shaking as she holds onto the edge of the counter. I try to soften toward her reaction of all this. I know she’s just worried for me, but her words cut deep. In a way, she’s right. If this was just about playing basketball for the love of basketball, I’d go play on any team. I would have gone to Springs to begin with just so I could play. Girls’ team, boys’ team, whatever. It wouldn’t matter. But it’s not about that. It’s about playing for a good team. It’s about playing for their team. Am I wrong to think that I have to prove myself more than others because I’m a girl?
Sadly, I don’t think I am.
I stand, walk over to her, and put my arm around her for the second time this morning. “I know it was hard for you to watch all that last year. Trust me, it was hard for me too. But it didn’t change anything, and it won’t change anything.”
Mom blinks. The corners of her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “Regardless, I’m talking to Springs while you’re gone.” She turns away, so I just hug her tighter. My mom’s stubborn. Talking to her now won’t solve anything. We’ll just keep going around and around in circles, saying the same things. I just have to prove to her that next year at Rockport will be different. To do that, I have to get the Ballers on my side—and the only way to do that is to take Lake down. He’s the only thing standing between me and them. Between me and the best senior year ever. I don’t know how I can ever trust them in my personal life again, but I don’t need that to be their teammate and nothing else.
