“All right. Rest up and I’ll see all of you here tomorrow.” Coach Rogers walks off the court, and we follow behind him towards the locker room.
I push the door open and hear it slam behind me. Ryan heads straight for the shower. Within ten minutes, everyone has left to go home and eat. I’m still waiting for Ryan. I sit down on a bench, ready to go, and wait for him to come out.
A few minutes later, he does. His skin is still glistening with beads of water, and he’s back in his jeans.
“You okay?” I ask. “I noticed you seemed kinda off today.” He’s toweling off his hair with his shirt. He pulls a clean one out from his locker next to mine.
“I’m fine,” he replies, not looking at me. He pulls his shirt back on as well as his socks and shoes. He grabs his hoodie and puts it on before slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Ready when you are.”
“I’m ready,” I say, but I don’t get up. “What’s going on, man?”
“Nothing. Let’s go,” he says quickly.
I continue looking up at him. “I think it’s obvious something is going on. You know I don’t like being nosy, but you’re my best friend, and I’m not trying to be cheesy here, but we usually tell each other when something is up.”
He still doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. He’s looking down. He sighs.
“You’ve missed like five days of school already. You know how strict they are about that. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Yeah, well, maybe they’ll call a parent meeting,” he says, smirking at his own joke.
“Seriously, dude. Just tell me what’s going on, what I can do to—“
“Nothing. Just the same stuff. Can we go now, or should I walk?”
“You know I’d never let you do that, man. You always ride with me.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go. Please.” He starts walking out the locker room, and there’s nothing else I can do but follow and hope everything is okay. Or at least that it’s not getting worse.
The next day at practice, I’m glad to see Ryan back on his game. I hope whatever funk he’s been in is over, but who knows. Only time will tell.
It’s close to the end of practice, and we’re scrimmaging again. This time, Ryan and I are on opposite teams. I’m guarding him as he tries to find a way to drive in. He decides to pass instead. A few minutes later, his team wins by three points.
Coach ends practice. “Good practice, everyone. Keep that up, and you might not embarrass yourselves this year.” He says it seriously, but we know he’s kidding. It’s when he doesn’t joke around that we worry. He must see hope in us. Our first game is just one week away.
Instead of heading to the locker room like everyone else, I hang back. Only Ryan is still on the court, taking his time as he jogs back to the bleachers to grab his water bottle.
I jog over to the coach, who’s scribbling down some things on his clipboard. I try to glance over at what he’s writing, but he looks up as soon as I get close.
“Uh, Coach,” I begin. “I was wondering… I mean, I’ve been thinking…”
“Spit it out, son,” he interrupts.
I finally manage to look Coach in the eye. “Well, it’s senior year, you know. It’s my last season, and I really want to play college ball, like you mentioned over the summer. And I was wondering if you could recommend me to one of the scouts or coaches you know. I remember a couple of years ago, Xavier was recruited, and I was just wondering if you could help me. I’m ready to do whatever—“
“Let me stop you right there,” Coach says. He’s tucked his clipboard to his side with his arm, and his pen is in his hand as he holds it up to stop my blabbering. “One. I only, only recommend the best of the best. No one else.”
My heart sinks right there, and I visibly droop at his words.
“Two,” he goes on, quickly looking me up and down. “You have potential. That’s what I said.” My back straightens once again as I hang on to his every word. “You’re good, but right now you’re probably not college ball good.”
I deflate a little once again.
“You definitely can be, like I told you, if you work your ass off and listen to what I have to say. I don’t do this for just anybody, but like I said, I see potential in you and you show initiative and a good attitude. But I need to see you do better. I’m going to push you, and you won’t like it, but if you commit and work, I think you might have a chance, Jimmy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Have you started thinking about what schools you might be interested in?” he asks.
He’s looking me right in the eye, and I stutter. “To be honest, I’m still not sure. I like Kentucky and Duke.”
He gives a chuckle, and I feel heat crawling up my neck.
“Well, I don’t know about Kentucky or Duke. They would have come to you by now. But we should look into some Georgia schools. Even so, 99% of that is going to depend solely on you and how you play this season if and when scouts come and visit or happen to watch footage. Got that?”
I nod quickly.
“Good.” He stays quiet for a second, then adds. “Practice. Hard. Practice here. Practice at home. Practice on the weekends. Practice in your sleep.”
I try not to laugh at that last one, but I barely keep my serious face on.
“Yes, sir,” I say with a boom.
He nods and starts walking away. “Ryan,” he calls out, giving a nod in his direction.
I finally notice Ryan, standing there with his water bottle in his hand. His mouth is slightly open, but he only gives me a glance before heading to the locker room.
“Hey, man, wait up,” I say. Maybe he doesn’t hear me, because he keeps walking.
I follow Ryan into the locker room. This time, instead of hopping into the shower, he’s already grabbing his gym bag and book bag and getting ready to leave.
“You okay?” I ask. We haven’t had a chance to talk for a while, now that basketball practice is right after school and takes up most of our time, even if we’re both on the team.
“I’m fine,” he says, finally slowing down. He sits down, taking off his gym bag.
“You don’t look fine,” I say, without thinking.
He shakes his head and keeps his gaze directly in front of him.
“How’s your mom?” I ask.
“Fine.”
“And your dad?”
“Fine.”
I finally take out a clean t-shirt from my bag and slip off the sweaty one I have on now. Then I put on the clean shirt, not taking my eyes off of Ryan.
“I get that your life sucks, man, and most of the time you rise above it, but I don’t know what’s going on now to make you like this.” I stand next to him. “It’s like you’re a different person. You don’t even smile anymore,” I finish.
He shrugs and stays quiet.
I sigh and stand there, not knowing what else to say.
Just as I’m about to turn around, he speaks up. “My dad was arrested again.”
My shoes squeak as I stop myself from turning. “What? Why? Is he out?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. He’s still in there. Another DUI. Plus they found some coke in his car. We don’t have the money to bail him out.”
I’m about to open my mouth.
“Honestly, I don’t want to bail him out, but my mom’s been all depressed about it. He’s supposed to have court in a few days. Then we’ll see if he’ll get jail time since it’s not his first offense. He doesn’t even have a lawyer. Just one of those court-appointed ones.”
“Damn. Sorry, man.” I sit down next to him.
“He deserves it. He’s the one who got my mom on drugs. She used to be a good person. Still is, maybe. I don’t know. But he pretty much ruined our lives.”
He grabs at his hair. “I just don’t know how much longer I can do this, man. I mean, he’s been like this for as long as I can remember. My mom too, and I just, I can’t.”
I sigh. What am I supposed t
o say to that? “Hang in there?” Like you have been for the past fifteen years?
“My mom is trying to do everything she can to get enough money to bail him out and hire a lawyer. I told her I wasn’t helping her. No one else in the family is either. They agree with me that he needs some time…away.” He shakes his head. “God, it’s like she cares more about his dumb ass than she does about—”
He stops himself, but I know what he was about to say.
I glance at him and see his eyes have gotten wet. I look away. Ryan doesn’t deserve this. But doesn’t it usually work that way? The best people in the world get dealt the shittiest hand?
“Is there anything I can do?” I finally ask.
“Nah.” I see Ryan tense up for some reason, and before I can ask, he’s up. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t keep Mayra waiting.”
We walk out of the school gym. I try to find a way to cheer him up.
“First game’s in a week. What do you think? Are we gonna slaughter those Pirates or what?” I ask as we walk.
He chuckles, and I think he’s finally gonna crack a joke, but all he says is, “You got it all figured out, don’t ya?”
Before I can ask what he means, he’s in Mayra’s car, and I’m left with no choice but to walk around to the front and get in.
The first thing I do after I put on my basketball uniform is text Ariana.
First game of the season’s in 5 minutes!! Wish me luck.
I insert like five thousand different emojis. Just because.
I wait several seconds and then set the phone down. I’m not going to let her lack of a reply psyche me out before the first game of the season. I am going to play my hardest and best today regardless. The second step towards my dream is a phenomenal start to the season. That’s how I’m going to get the attention I need from colleges.
I see Ryan walk past, his uniform already on. He’s looking down, kind of distracted. I hope we can count on him today, even if his family situation is shit.
His dad finally got out of jail. His license is suspended, but his parents had gone back to the way they had been before. Worse. Getting high most nights and drunk.
I’m about to get up and see if he’s okay when I hear my phone go off.
It’s Ariana.
Kick ass :) Wish I was there.
I finally smile and text back.
I sent you my game schedule. I expect you here next time, sis ;)
She doesn’t text after that, but I’m still happy she responded. Mayra was right. She’s pretty much been nonexistent since her breakup with Lucas, but she has been doing better lately. We’re texting on a semi-regular basis now, and she calls my mom a few times a week. I just hope she visits soon.
“Coach said to get ready to get on the floor. The girls’ game has like twenty seconds left on the clock,” Henry announces as he walks into the locker room. He walks back out immediately, and I put my stuff away in my locker so I can follow him.
“You comin’, Ryan?” I call. I think he’s in the bathroom. Most of the guys are already in the hallway leading to the gym.
I chuckle to myself as I remember one of our plays from last year. Ryan missed a pass from Philip, and the ball was in the air, about to go out. He made a wild jump to grab it and toss it back. I managed to grab it, and then tripped while I was trying to dribble. My arms flew up, and my first instinct was to at least aim for the basket. It went in and tied the game in the second quarter.
Everyone laughed, and a few people had recorded the whole thing on their phones. Even the coach had shaken his head but laughed.
“Coming,” Ryan answers.
“Let’s go. Coach already called us.”
He doesn’t answer after that, but I start tapping my foot and getting impatient. I have been working really hard to show Coach Rogers I want to play college ball, and I want him to recommend me. I do not want him thinking that I don’t care.
“Hey —”
“I said I’m coming,” Ryan says as he walks out of one of the shower stalls. I don’t even ask what he was up to in there since he obviously didn’t shower. We need to get out on the floor.
He follows me out, and as I jog towards the other guys, I notice the crowd is already buzzing from the girls’ game. It’s about to end. The girls are winning by seven points. The guys are all behind one of the baskets, kinda to the side, stretching but watching the game. I notice the look Coach gives us, but I don’t say anything.
Ryan and I stand and watch for a second. Then I head to the front of the line since I’m captain and everyone’s basically waiting for me to go first.
Less than a minute later, the girls’ game is over, and we run onto the court as they leave. I see the mascot cheering the crowd on as some people leave and others arrive. The girls won by ten points.
We warm up with free throws. The other team joins us from the stands. Most of them don’t look that experienced. I think we can take them. I remember them from last year. Shouldn’t be too hard to beat them again.
I turn back around and throw my hands up as Ryan tosses the ball to me. My turn. I shoot. In. I head to the back of the line.
I get the familiar queasy feeling in my stomach I usually get before games. Even though it unsettles me and makes me nervous, it’s usually a good sign that I’ll be at my best.
Whenever I don’t get this feeling, and I feel cocky, that’s usually when I mess up.
I take a few deep breaths and glance over to look at the stands. I look around until I find Mayra and my parents near the top. They give me a wave, my mom smiling and waving the hardest, like I might not see her. Like I’m in kindergarten. I wave back and smile. This is the last first game I’ll have here on this court, and it sucks.
I wish high school could go on forever sometimes. And other times, I want it to end. See what it feels like to be on my own, like my sister. Move in with Mayra and start our own lives.
I shake my head and my shoulders and hands as I get those thoughts out of my head.
Now’s not the time. I need to focus and give this game my all.
A few minutes later, the referee walks back onto the court. He looks like he’s all business. Strict.
“Captains,” he calls out.
Two players from the other team immediately head towards him. Philip and I jog over there too.
The sour feeling in the pit of my stomach is back. I hope it doesn’t mean something different this time. The first people that get blamed when things go wrong are the captains. Whether the blame comes from the coach or the team. The referee gives us a hard look as we stand in front of him.
“You play clean and fair. Understand?”
The four of us nod. One of them is shorter than me but not by much. The other one must be their center. He’s four inches taller than me. The first guy looks nice enough, but the other one already looks mad. This should be interesting.
A few minutes later, we’re all in position. I’m to the side of the center of the court, staring at the angry-looking guy, the center. I’m not the tallest person on our team, but I’m ready for a pass or steal.
The last thing I see before the referee throws the ball up in the air is the scoreboard. Both zeroes. A clean slate.
Three
By the beginning of the fourth quarter, we’re up a dozen points, and I’m hot. I can’t wait to see my stats at practice on Monday. I’ve made at least fifteen or twenty points and half a dozen assists. One steal.
But the Pirates are trying to catch up. They are not giving up easily. Everyone’s drenched in sweat. You can feel it in the air.
Coach Rogers is pacing on the sidelines as the mascot slides across the floor on his stomach, getting the crowd riled up along with the cheerleaders. I haven’t looked over there since waving at Mayra and my parents. I can’t afford to not pay attention to the game for one second.
Ryan and Henry dribble down the court with the ball, and I try to open up for them. Philip dashes behind the net, and we move like gears in a m
achine, knowing where we’re supposed to go, seeing the empty spots where there are no defenders.
I’m open.
Ryan acts like he’s passing left but passes right towards me. I catch the ball and quickly pass to Damien, who posts up before the defender can reach him.
Two points. Another assist.
This time, the Pirates have the ball, and they come towards our half of the court. I watch my zone carefully, making sure no one has an open shot. My hands are in the air, and I’m looking back and forth between the guy behind me, who’s trying to get open, and the point guard, who’s looking to pass.
He drives in and then passes to his teammate on the other side of the court, who’s ready to shoot a three. He does. Ryan attempts to block it. No good.
Three points.
I sigh and run back to other side of the gym, looking behind me. We need to keep our shit together. I glance at the clock. There are less than three minutes left. Anything could happen in three minutes.
Henry holds up one finger.
We know what to do. Each person runs to their spot, subtly opening up the court for our point guard to drive in while the defenders try to keep up with us.
Another defender, fast, sticks to him, but it doesn’t stop him from shooting.
The referee blows the whistle as I see the ball go in.
And one.
Henry grabs the ball and goes to the free throw line. We need to make this a three-point play. The crowd quiets down, and we line up. I’m closest to the basket. Henry dribbles twice and then bounces his knees a couple times before he releases the ball. Nothing but net.
I high five him on the way back and get ready to defend.
A couple of minutes later, we’re still up ten points. I had expected an easier game than this, but it looks like we’ll win anyway. There’s less than a minute left on the clock, but this means the Pirates are flopping like crazy. The referee knows what they’re trying to do, though.
The guy that I’m defending gets the ball. I follow him non-stop, shuffling this way and that. He dodges me and goes for the shot, but I jump with him. The ball hits the rim and bounces off, and I grab the ball in mid-air.
All In (Changing Hearts Book 2) Page 3
