by Erica Kiefer
***
Suicides—one basketball drill I excelled at. To the line and back, I sprinted, my lungs burning by the final set. Yet, I pushed through the pain, leading my teammates with the strength and endurance expected of a captain.
Never giving up.
All the running I’d invested in over the last couple of months since Maddie’s death paid off, my fitness allowing bursts of speed as I dashed from one line on the court to the next. My sisters, Taylor and Leah weren’t far behind my heels. Despite my own lack of motivation today, I couldn’t help but be impressed by their young enthusiasm. They moved with proficiency and confidence, shouting out encouragement to our teammates, and driven to succeed. They were only sophomores, but they didn’t let the age-gap inhibit their self-assurance. I coveted their ability to play like Maddie hadn’t died—like nothing had changed. She was their cousin, too. Yet, I was the one that felt hindered. Changed. Like all the energy put into this practice was a—
Tara Davis slapped my rear as she spun around me. “Wake up, girl!” she said as I missed her pass. The ball rolled away on its own, careening towards the exit of the gym. My mouth opened in surprise, not because Tara had smacked my behind like I was a cow, but because somehow I’d zoned out, not realizing we’d moved onto passing drills. Tara grinned at me, her wide smile stretching across her face. “Grab the ball! Let’s go!”
As a best friend and co-captain, I guess she had the right to order me around. I picked up my knees and jogged after the runaway ball.
Practice carried on with more passing and shooting drills, weaving the ball between us and making the shot. We weren’t introduced to anything new or crazy—not yet, anyway. I had no doubt Coach had a number of tactics up his sleeve, with my sisters and me playing a dominant role. Normally, I would expect and crave nothing else, relishing in the attention. Today, however, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, none of this was as important as it used to be. Life—and death, for that matter—was suddenly so much bigger than basketball.
We half-limped out of the doors when Coach Robbins released us, feeling the wake-up call of a brand-new season.
“Come on! Say yes to Friday.” Tara Davis jumped in my path, walking backwards to stay in front of me. Frowning at her persistence, I continued walking down the school hall, trying not to step on her toes.
“Tara, seriously—I’m not in the mood. I would be the worst date anyway.” I brushed passed Tara, finally getting ahead of her feet. She grabbed my backpack, slowing me down until I came to a stop. I took a breath and released it loudly.
“Allie, please. Please do this for me.” Her olive-green eyes pleaded into mine. “Don’t best friends reserve the right for favors once in a while?” She bounced on her toes.
I sighed. Going on a double date this Friday had little appeal to me, especially after our first grueling week of basketball practice, but Tara had created what she called “the perfect set up” by organizing a date night. She’d had her eye on Austin Boyer since our junior year. As a key player on the boys’ basketball team, he was quite the commodity, and any girl would count herself lucky to be in his knee-buckling presence. Not far behind “every girl’s dream” was Austin’s best friend, Shane Moretti—and my date, should I concede.
Tara couldn’t get over how cool it would be if “best friends dated best friends” and better yet, that we all played basketball. In her words, this type of scenario would be the pinnacle of our high school experience.
I shouldn’t have given in—I should have held my ground, but I felt like I was disappointing a lot of people these days with my often-glum mood. For instance, I hadn’t felt any need to dress up for Halloween last week and opted to stay home and hand out candy instead.
“What are you, OLD?” Tara had said in disgust, shaking her head at me when she couldn’t convince me to attend the haunted house with her and a few friends. Regardless of her criticism, ever since Maddie’s death, I felt like my nerves were still too fragile. The last thing I needed was an evening where ghosts and monsters were glorified and praised for jumping out at me. I already felt like a phantom of myself anyway, unable to fully grasp the confidence and zest for life that I once maintained. Maybe if I faked having a good time this weekend, people would stop watching me for a major meltdown—and Tara would stop pelting me with her disapproving looks.
“Ok,” I said, “Let’s do it. One double date to help you and Austin on your path to true love—although, you know I don’t believe in any of that—and then you’re on your own.” Tara jumped up and down, wrapping her arms around me.
“You are absolutely the best!” Her springy, sandy-blond hair bounced with her voice. “I will plan everything. Meet me at my house on Friday after practice, and the boys can pick us up from there.”
I feigned a smile in return, wondering what I’d just gotten myself into.
