All In (Changing Hearts Book 2)

by Yesenia Vargas

  A few weeks later, I walk into the school library. Classes are over for the day, but the basketball meeting is today, and I need to know when conditioning is officially starting.

  I’m not the first one there. Several of the guys from last year’s JV and varsity along with some freshmen and sophomores are already seated at the tables. The coach is there too, standing with his clipboard at his side.

  I walk over and shake his hand. “Hey, Coach.”

  Coach Rogers nods his head at me. “How are ya?”

  “Ready,” I answer.

  “Good.” He glances at the door as a few other guys walk in, and I take a seat near the front.

  After a couple more minutes, the coach gets started. He clears his throat, and we fall quiet.

  “Welcome to the Eastview annual varsity basketball meeting. As you know, the season will be starting up in a month or so, and we need to get ready. For the past three years, we’ve finished second in the regional tournament. Second to Westview. And it’s been twelve years since we’ve finished first in the state tournament.”

  He pauses and looks around the room.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting pretty sick and tired of finishing second to those damn Eagles. We need a Bobcat victory this year.”

  The library erupts in cheers and fist pumps, and I see the librarian give us a stern glare from her desk. I smile at Ryan, who smiles back, and we both turn back to face the coach.

  “Be ready to pushed to the limit, boys, even more than last year. We are going to finish in first place, even if I have to put on a jersey and play with you.” Some of the guys laugh at that.

  “In all seriousness, though, tryouts are going to especially hard this year. As you can see around you, there are lot of you wanting to be on the varsity team, and only ten spots. I’ll also be deciding captain and co-captain.”

  He stares at me right in the face before moving his gaze around the crowd. “Only the best of the best will play on my team. No less. And even then, you might wish you had never joined. This will not be easy. It might not even be fun. But we will win.”

  I glance over at Ryan, and he glances back at me, eyebrows raised. I’m starting to doubt even I’ll make it. I push that thought out of my head. Of course I’ll make it. Not because I think I’m better than anyone here. In a year, Henry might just be better than me because that kid’s got talent. He can shoot.

  But no one wants this more than I do right now. I’ve played on varsity since freshman year. I have the most experience out of everyone here, and I’m prepared to give 150% so we can make it to the state championships again this year. Maybe Coach will pick me as captain. I decide that’s my goal. To lead our team to the state championships this year.

  “Now, if you still want to try out, sign your name here, and I’ll see you at conditioning this Thursday, which goes until 6:00 p.m. Conditioning starts at 3:45 sharp.”

  He holds out his clipboard for someone to grab. I stand up and grab it, immediately signing my name.

  Ryan and I walk out of the library a few minutes later and head to the front of the school. Mayra volunteered to pick us up today.

  “Damn. Coach Rogers is crazy, but that was even way more intense than usual.”

  I laugh and nod. “Yep. He’s retiring soon, and he really wants that state championship.”

  I glance at the school trophy case. We’ve accumulated some nice trophies since we’ve started playing, but ending our final season with that first place trophy would make a really nice ending to our senior year.

  “Watch me not make the team this year,” Ryan says with a smile but shaking his head. “I bet he’s gonna make us run suicides like his life depends on it.”

  “True. But I can’t wait for the actual games to start.” I shoot an invisible ball through the air. “You think we have a shot at captain and co-captain?”

  Ryan gave a laugh then put on his serious face. “Maybe.”

  We walk out the front doors, and I see Mayra’s already waiting for us.

  “Come on,” I say, and Ryan follows. His parents are hardly ever able to pick him from anywhere, but the good thing is that we live in the same subdivision so he usually rides home with me. It isn’t even a question anymore.

  “Hey, how are your parents, by the way?”

  He shrugs and stares straight ahead.

  I’m not sure if I should let it go or not when he adds, “My mom overdosed again, but she’s out of the hospital and back home.”

  I turn to him and stare, mostly because of how calmly he spoke. We stop before we get to Mayra’s car. “Dude, are you serious? Is she okay?”

  “It happened over the weekend. She’s fine. She just always goes back to the drugs. I honestly don’t even care anymore. And did I mention my dad wasn’t even around the entire weekend? So he didn’t even know.”

  “Damn, man. That sucks. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Ryan shrugs. “It doesn’t even surprise me anymore. I’m just sick of having to deal with it. It’s just a matter of time before they kill themselves, you know?”

  I have no idea what to say to that, so we start walking again. We get to Mayra’s car, and I open the front passenger door and get in while Ryan gets in the back.

  I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for picking us up.”

  “Sure. How was the meeting?” Mayra asks, turning on the car.

  The excitement I just felt moments ago is gone.

  “Good,” I reply, glancing back at Ryan as I put on my seatbelt. He hasn’t even bothered with his. He’s looking out the window instead.

  Ryan’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I’ve never felt so bad for him. I started noticing something was wrong in fifth grade, when he’d show up with the same clothes two days in a row. In middle school, he’d been one of the kids to receive backpacks full of food to take home over the weekend and holidays.

  From then on, everyone had kind of known that Ryan had a tough situation at home, and he’d eventually told me about his mom’s drug addiction and his dad’s alcohol problem in eighth grade. They’ve barely been able to hold down jobs.

  And the worst part is that there’s nothing I can do about it other than offer him rides so he can play basketball and invite him over for dinner a couple times a week. My parents love having him over, especially now that it’s just the three of us. Now that I think about it, he hasn’t come over in a while other than to play.

  “Hey, Ryan, you’re coming over for dinner tonight, right?”

  “Huh?” he asks. “Oh, I’m not sure. I have some stuff to do.”

  I look back at him. “You sure? My mom was saying the other day how you haven’t come over in a while. She thinks you don’t like her cooking anymore.”

  He finally cracks a smile. “Tomorrow.”

  I turn around again.

  I wonder what life is gonna be like for him after we graduate. Either he’ll move out and finally start a life of his own away from all of that or stay at home and make sure his parents keep food in the fridge, pay the rent, and then watch them overdose again. Now that I think about it, it’s a tough choice.

  Two

  The next day, Ryan never shows up, not even to play basketball. It’s already six o’clock in the evening, and he hasn’t even replied to any of my messages.

  I invite him over for dinner. Nothing.

  I ask to come play some one-on-one. Nada.

  I check my phone one last time and still nothing.

  I set it down and grab the basketball at my feet. I jog over to the hoop in our driveway and do a quick layup. I’ve been out here almost two hours already, ever since I got home from school and had something to eat. I should be doing homework, but I’m just not feeling it yet.

  The wind blows a whole bunch of leaves onto the pavement, and I wonder when my parents are gonna be home. My stomach is growling. I take a couple more shots and miss most of them. Maybe I should stop practicing.

&nbs
p; Conditioning starts tomorrow, and I need to be rested. I’m about to head inside for a shower and to finally work on some homework when I hear a car pull up.

  I turn around and toss the ball so it rolls onto the grass.

  It’s Mayra. She pulls up and parks the car.

  “You’re out early,” I say as she gets out.

  “My last class was canceled,” she says, coming over and giving me a hug.

  I hug her back and we stay like that for a minute, just holding each other. It’s been a long afternoon. We walk over to the porch and sit down. I wrap my arm around her. I can tell she’s cold because she has her arms around her body and her knees are pulled up to her stomach.

  “Here,” I say. I go up a step and sit above her, wrapping my entire body around hers. “That better?”

  She nods and snuggles against my chest. “Perfect. Well, almost perfect. You’re kinda sweaty.”

  I smile. Normally, I’d invite her inside, but since my parents aren’t home, she’s not even supposed to be here. I stare at the darkening sky, watching the clouds sail their way to the horizon.

  “How was your day?” she asks.

  “Okay, you?”

  “Why okay?” she asks.

  I shrug. “School was boring, and Ryan was supposed to come over, but he never answered. I’m wondering what he’s up to. He’s been acting kinda weird lately.”

  “How so?”

  I go on. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling something’s going on.” I shift my gaze to the grass in front of us.

  “Didn’t you say he had a girlfriend or something?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think that’s it.” I think. “Or who knows. But there’s something bothering me about him. And I told you about his parents.”

  She nods. “Yeah, it really sucks.”

  I don’t know what to say after that.

  “Have you started thinking about graduation yet and where you’re gonna go to school after all? You’re gonna need to apply soon.” Mayra says.

  I sigh. Not much of an improvement of topic.

  “All I know is I really want to keep playing basketball. Right now, I’m thinking college, but if the NBA comes knocking, you know…”

  Mayra laughs.

  “What? That’s funny?” I ask, but I’m laughing too. “Nah, I’m kidding. They don’t let you go straight into the NBA from high school anymore. Not that I’d have a chance.”

  “You really could play for the NBA if you wanted, you know. You’re that good. I just don’t want you to leave and become famous and get like two million Twitter followers and forget about me. Mostly the Twitter part.”

  We laugh, and I squeeze her tighter.

  “Nah. I’d bring you with me.”

  We stay silent for a little while, and I start thinking about her question again.

  “I think I’m gonna apply to a few different schools for now, like Duke. A couple of Georgia schools. You know, Duke has a pretty good program and it’s not too far away. North Carolina. I’m gonna start talking to the coach and maybe he can talk to college coaches he knows or something. Coach says the early signing period starts in the fall.”

  I sense her getting tense.

  “Don’t worry. I’d more likely get struck by lightning then get signed early. No one even knows who I am. If I’m gonna have a chance, it’s gonna be in the spring, probably.” I kiss her head. “Either way, though, we’re staying together. Really staying together. You might even get sick of me.” I feel her relax again. “Even if I have to take you with me.”

  She tenses up again.

  “Would you transfer?” I ask before I can regret it. “Would you go to the same school as me?”

  “I don’t know,” she replies. “I don’t think I can even afford that.”

  “Move in with me,” I say. “HOPE pays your tuition, right?”

  She nods. “In Georgia.”

  I push away the thoughts nagging at me, probably the same ones bothering her right now. Aren’t college athletes paid a stipend or something? I bet we could make it work. “Just move in with me. Even if every college scout decides I suck and I end up staying here, move in with me,” I say.

  She looks up at me, looking me in the eyes, and a smile erupts on her face. “Seriously?”

  “Hell, yeah,” I say.

  “I don’t even know what my mom would say to that.”

  “You’re twenty. Doesn’t matter what she says, does it?”

  Her smile grows larger. “That’s true, I guess. Doesn’t mean she would like it. But yes, I’d move in with you.”

  Now I smile. And I kiss her.

  “We’d have to figure out how to afford it,” she says.

  “Whatever happens, you’re coming with me,” I say. “I know we’ll figure it out.”

  I step into the gym, ready to leave my all on the floor. There are significantly less of us out here today. That’s because tryouts were last week, and almost half the guys were cut. Coach Rogers posted his list of who made the varsity team this year on the school basketball website on Friday. Today’s the first day of practice, the first day we practice as this year’s official team.

  I was pretty sure I had made it, but I checked online just in case so I wouldn’t look like a dummy if I showed up and for whatever reason I hadn’t made the team. I feel kinda dumb now for checking, but you never know.

  I look around, and a couple guys nod to me. I nod back. We’re all internally wondering who the captain’s gonna be this year.

  I hope it’s me, but it could also be Philip. He’s a good choice. I wouldn’t be surprised if Coach picked him. Maybe even Ryan.

  I stretch my legs, pulling my left leg back, placing my foot in my hand. I watch Philip, Ryan, Damien, and the other guys shoot. A ball bounces towards me, and I grab it, dribbling to the free throw line. I shoot. The ball sinks in. Henry grabs it.

  Most of us are here from last year, except for the four seniors, who graduated. Four of us rising seniors have taken their place, including Ryan, and I’m noticing that we have five juniors now, which means a couple of them finally made it over from junior varsity. I see one sophomore step onto the court after me. He’s the youngest on the team, and he reminds me of myself freshman year. Nervous but ready to show everyone he deserves to be here.

  Everyone gathers in a small circle in the middle of the gym as Coach Rogers walks onto the floor with his clipboard and a basketball. Technically, we still have three minutes before our first practice officially begins. He looks sharp as usual, with his hair combed neatly to the side and his clothes pressed. His shoes have been polished, and I can tell he shaved. He’s wearing his coach jersey, the navy blue one with our school mascot on the pocket. I swear he must have a dozen of those because I never see him wear anything else during basketball season except his navy blue suit during games.

  He’s just as ready as we are to start the season and prove we deserve the first place championship this year. I know that’s the way I’m going to end my last basketball season and my senior year here. After playing for three years, I know what it takes, and I think we can do it.

  Coach Rogers quickly calls roll. We’re all here. There’s no time to chat before he starts us stretching, running suicides, doing stairs, and starting our usual warm up regimen. Layups. Free throws. Three pointers. We do some defensive drills after that. Coach picks a handful of us to go first. I wipe sweat away from my brow.

  I watch Ryan. He’s defending against Henry, a junior. They’re going one-on-one, and all I can hear is the sound of their shoes squeaking on the floor and Coach Rogers yelling.

  “Let’s go, Ryan! Don’t let him drive in. Do not let him move.”

  Ryan is stepping this way and that, trying to keep up with Henry, but Henry manages to break past him and make a shot. I see Ryan stumble after feinting the wrong way.

  “Damn. Ryan just got his ankles broken,” I hear someone mutter behind me. I turn around. It’s Damien, another junior. I glance up at him and
give him a look before turning back around. Coach Rogers is shaking his head. “Next group. Let’s go.”

  Ryan steps off the court. I pat him on the shoulder as I go by. He’s staring at the ground. That’s the thing about Ryan. He tends to lose his confidence here.

  An hour later, we finish up practice with a scrimmage, skins versus shirts. Ryan and I are on the same team, along with Damien, Philip, and Tyrell. Henry’s team beats our asses, and Coach Rogers is not happy. He knows the same thing I do. Something is up with Ryan. The difference is that he doesn’t ask or do anything. But I won’t be surprised if he benches him for half of the first game.

  Almost all of Ryan’s shots miss. His defense is almost non-existent. His entire game is off, and I want to know why. This isn’t like him.

  I wipe the sweat off my brow. I’m pretty sure practice is just about over. We can hardly breathe.

  “I think it’s clear we have a lot of work to do,” Coach says. Everyone walks over, and we make a semicircle around him. I think he’s about to announce captain. He glances at his clipboard before looking at us. “Now one last thing before you head home to rest for another practice tomorrow. Team captain and co-captain. I want you all to know I put a lot of thought into this, and it wasn’t easy. It’s important that the leader of this team is a team player more than anything else, and he needs to have a good attitude. And be someone that everyone else can look up to.”

  There’s a pause as we look around, wondering who he’s describing. My heart’s racing, and it’s not just from the grueling practice we just had.

  “There are more than one player with these qualities, so it wasn’t an easy choice, like I said, but I feel confident that this young man will be a great leader and captain this season. I think you’ll agree. Welcome your captain, Jimmy Aguilar.”

  My eyes widen. Dang.

  Coach Rogers looks at me and gives me a nod. “Thanks, Coach,” I manage.

  I look around. Some of the guys cheer for me, some of them come over and give me a slap on the back, including Ryan. But he doesn’t even look me in the face.

  “And your co-captain is Philip Thompson.” I walk over and congratulate Philip with everyone else.