Chapter Five
GJ
My chest rose and fell with hard breaths as the shouts around me faded into white noise.
There were players who were good with noise and used to it, who loved the hum of a crowd.
I usually loved it—ate it up, in fact, and demanded as much praise as I could get.
But today, I wished everyone could be quiet, just for a moment.
I dribbled the ball at the free throw line, taking a second to level out my breathing. My hands were sweaty for reasons unrelated to the fact that I was in the midst of intense physical activity. Getting nervous on the court wasn’t new to me, but getting nervous to this degree was.
Our first game of the season was a home game, and we had a dedicated fanbase, so they fortunately did quiet down—as was tradition—so I could focus on my free throws.
But it didn’t feel like enough. Even with an arena of people intentionally trying to help me get my head in the game, I couldn’t get there.
Everything was taking me out of it. The lights were too bright, and the sound of my breathing was too loud, and if I heard one more sneaker squeak on the waxy floor, I was going to lose it.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me.
I closed my eyes for a beat, traced my hands over the comforting texture of the basketball I was dribbling.
I’d been doing this since I was a kid—I knew basketball.
I knew how to shoot, and my shooting percentage was better than average, even amongst the best college basketball players in the nation.
I was smart on the court and quick on my feet.
There was a reason I was here and a reason I was the captain of this team.
I poised my hands to finally launch the ball, letting my muscles relax.
There were certain shots in basketball that were universally acknowledged as embarrassing to miss.
There was the wide-open dunk. The airball.
And then there was a missed free throw. No one was guarding me.
I was in close, direct range of the basketball hoop. It should be effortless.
But as the ball left my fingertips, I knew it wasn’t making it.
The entire arena held its breath as the ball arched through the air and bounced off the rim.
“That’s alright, Mitchell,” Nia said from beside me. She clapped a hand against mine as I waited for the ball to be given back to me to try again.
Despite Nia’s attempt at comforting me, the crushing weight in my chest told me everything I needed to know. It was over. The game—at least for me—was a wash.
I knew what most people, especially my family, were going to say. It was the first game of the season. There was a lot of pressure following the run that Theo had brought us on last year. Our fanbase hadn’t just doubled or tripled, it’d expanded across the entire United States.
And beyond a growing fanbase, we also had the millions of people who were waiting for us to crash and burn. People who couldn’t wait to prove that they had been right the entire time that Theo was the only reason we were ever good enough to make the cut.
But my season wasn’t going to have just one bad game. I knew that already.
I tossed the ball up again, trying to tell myself that I didn’t care, that I’d done this a million times.
I did everything I could to keep my muscles loose, to remind myself it was only one point.
I even tried to tap into the feeling of what it was like shooting for fun, just hanging out in the park, and playing with my teammates.
But again, the ball bounced off the rim. The only way it could’ve been worse was if I’d missed the rim completely.
Crushing disappointment sat on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I knew people missed free throws all the time; I wasn’t the first and I wouldn’t be the last. Two of my other teammates had missed at least one free throw earlier in the game.
But it felt different. I’d needed this—the easy win, the reminder that the sport I loved loved me back.
There wasn’t time to linger on things like that right now. I wasn’t shooting the last points of the game; we still had five minutes to gain a lead, five minutes to shut the other team out, and close the gap.
But entire games, entire finals, had been determined by only one point. Everyone knew how much something like a free throw could mean when it came to the closing minutes.
“You’re alright,” Nia said as we got back into position to resume play.
Her words still didn’t help. I knew what was coming. And sure enough: as we moved into the next play, I was benched.
Things like that happened—even to Theo, even to me when I was at the top of my game—but it hurt more than usual right now. Getting pulled because we had a strong lead, or I wasn’t the player that was needed against a certain team at that moment, was fine.
But getting pulled during a shooting slump was a personal nightmare.
It was like getting scolded by the teacher in front of the class.
I wasn’t just hearing my coach’s voice in my ear about being disappointed in me; I was hearing the voices of all of the people watching, all of the fans saying the same exact things that I would be saying if I were watching the game instead of playing.
I would say it was easier on the other side of the screen, where the pressure wasn’t on, and anyone could say things like I never would’ve made that mistake, but right now, the voices definitely had a point.
I should’ve made those. Just like I should’ve made every other shot I’d tried tonight.
But instead, I was closing out the season opener shooting 1-11. I fucking sucked.
Rubbing salt in the wound, the person replacing me—of course—had to be Anna. I’d done the best I could to keep my one-sided beef to myself so Coach Darlene wouldn’t get pissed, but right then, all I could imagine was that she knew how much I hated Anna and was punishing me for playing like shit.
As Anna ran out and took my place on the court, I stared at Coach Darlene’s back, wishing I knew what she was thinking.
I’d always responded better to coaches who were unforgiving.
My family was a mess of blunt communicators and big personalities, so it was easier on me to get my feelings hurt for a second and work through it, rather than wondering.
My teammates erupting into cheers pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced up to see that the score was even. Without me on the court, we weren’t just doing better—we were on track to win.
I spotted Leah and the cheerleaders at the edge of the court, waving their pom poms. They were all seated, legs crossed on the wooden floor. She had the perfect cheerleader smile plastered on her face, the perfect cheerleader posture.
I thought back to her in my apartment. In my bed.
I hadn’t thought about sleeping with Leah much before the other night, but now that we’d done it, she’d find her way back into my mind without warning. Sex with her was a line that couldn’t be uncrossed—and apparently also a memory that couldn’t be erased.
I’d lie and say that I didn’t know why, of all the girls I could get hooked on, it was her, but I knew exactly the reason.
I’d known the Moretti twins for as long as I’d been at Lakeside Green University and I’d never considered either of them to be particularly undone or casual people.
They carried a specific kind of intensity that came with having parents constantly riding their asses.
Leah could have fun. I’d seen her at parties before, and obviously, she wasn’t afraid of casual sex.
But seeing her, of all people—the girl with the perfect, practiced smile and perfect hair and perfect clothes—unravel and lose herself in me was magic.
It was a high that I wasn’t confident I could replicate with anyone else.
But I acknowledged what we had for what it was—one extremely memorable night with a girl who completely surprised me. Never to happen again.
The clock ticked down with the Coyotes holding a steady lead. Things were looking really good for us, and Anna was undeniably a massive part of that—not that I would ever say that out loud to anyone.
When the final buzzer sounded out, and we officially won, everyone jumped up from their seats to celebrate.
I mustered up as much enthusiasm as I could, but the moment felt different than it had previously.
I didn’t feel connected to the team, and it didn’t feel like a win I was allowed to celebrate.
My smiling and cheering didn’t feel authentic. I just hoped no one else noticed.
I attempted to shake it off, scared by my own feelings. There’d never been a single moment in my life when I’d felt withdrawn when it came to basketball. Even if I only played two minutes the entire game, I was always excited about a win or devastated by a loss because basketball was a team sport.
“This is our season, baby,” Mags shouted, jumping up and down.
“Welcome to the Coyotes, Anna,” Gemma said with a massive smile, and the rest of the team cheered. I clapped my hands, less enthusiastic than I probably should be as captain.
Our school fight song played out over the speakers, and the crowd roared out lyrics. I’d always looked forward to the fight song and the excitement of the crowd after a win, but I mostly just want to go home rather than relish it.
Whatever the fuck was wrong with me, I desperately needed to sleep off.
I couldn’t go into my last season as a Coyote in this headspace.
This was how a shooting slump started, and I couldn’t afford to go into one when getting drafted was on the line.
The WNBA was too competitive for me to afford slipping even a little bit.
I glanced over at Leah again. She and Soph were leaning toward each other, singing their hearts out.
The joy in her face was obvious—her smile wide, the brunette highlights of her ponytail catching in the overhead lighting.
An intense desire to be around that kind of glowing, radiant happiness sucker punched me in the chest. I could still hear her easy laughter, the warm tone of her voice, from the party in my ear.
I’d used a million different excuses to text girls before; I’d never been above a booty call, a lame this made me think of you text.
It was easy to pretend to be vulnerable or do something sweet when nothing was on the line, and I wasn’t afraid of getting rejected.
But reaching out to Leah felt different. She felt different.
I grimaced to myself, icked out by my own feelings. I was drawn to her happiness? What the fuck was I on?
I shook the feeling off. I’d never been given such an obvious sign before that I needed to text one of the many random girls in my phone tonight and see if they were busy. Whatever weird pull I was feeling toward Leah needed to be extinguished and quickly.
I followed the rest of the team back to the tunnel, shaking out my jersey where sweat had pooled around my sports bra.
I’d never been so happy to get off a basketball court, and it was leaving me feeling deflated more than anything else, even though we’d won.
But there was no other option than to put on a brave face and smile through it—there was a postgame panel and a party after the game.
As if it wasn’t annoying enough that I had a rough start, Anna would be there for all of it.
The panels, the parties. She was somehow always everywhere.
I’d never, in all of my years of basketball, felt this way about another player on my team. I’ll shamelessly hate players from other teams, but it’d never been one of us. I didn’t know where to put all of the feelings I was experiencing.
“GJ!”
I looked up at the seats at the edge of the tunnel where fans would gather for autographs. The weight on my chest lightened. There were still people here for me. Even if I sucked this game, people still wanted to see me play.
But that feeling quickly turned into a completely different one.
“Holy shit, dude!” I said, my jaw dropped.
She was wearing a baseball cap as low down on her face as she possibly could, but I would know Theo anywhere.
It also helped that Maya was standing right next to her, her usual bright smile plastered on her face.
“What the fuck is up, guys? I had no idea you were coming. I’m surprised they didn’t have you blasting all over the Jumbotron. ”
She leaned over the metal barrier between us and we slapped our hands together in greeting. “We kept to the back so people wouldn’t see us. This game isn’t about me.” Theo held her hand out, and I slapped mine against it.
“Are you sticking around in town?”
“Long enough for us to catch up,” Theo said. “Pizza?”
“Hell yeah,” I said. For the first time in what had to have been months, the knot in my chest loosened just the tiniest bit. “I’ll see you guys in a minute.”
Lakeside Green University could feel a little bit like an island. We had very few restaurants, even fewer bars, and no easy public transit out of the area. But fortunately, Theo and Maya had driven a car out here from Cedar Creek, so I was free of the campus for the night.
I slid right into the middle of the back and then leaned into the gap between the driver and passenger seats. “I feel like I’m being driven around by mom and dad,” I said. “Your new car is sick, dude.”
“Thanks,” Theo responded, about as enthusiastic and talkative as she always was. She messed around with the car temperature and radio as Maya turned to look at me.
My phone vibrated, my family group chat has been going nonstop since the game. I had three older sisters—Ada, Bev, and Vivian—who could not give less a fuck about basketball, but they loved an excuse to blow up our phones. I’d never met chattier people in my life.
Dad
Coyotes looked good tonight, solid game.
Vivian
Isaiah wants to know who this new girl on the team is. He’s not happy about the amount of time you spent on the bench.
Bev
Look at you, knowing what the bench is
Vivian
I’m quoting directly from him, don’t ask me what any of this means
GJ
Vivian, what did you think of my shooting percentage from the paint?
Vivian
You better be nice to me or you’re not getting shit for Christmas and that’s a promise
Also Isaiah said that it wasn’t great but your career shooting percentage is still one of the best in LSGU history
GJ
Damn right