Chapter Eleven
GJ
The arena was so loud that I could barely hear myself think.
Despite a personally rough season, our record as a collective team was perfect, and the fans were loving it.
It wasn’t an easy perfect, and we’d only played against smaller teams so far, which wasn’t promising for tournaments.
At this rate, Point Brook University was going to hand us our asses when we played against them.
But none of that mattered to our fans. They cared that we were playing and that it was their favorite few hours of each week.
I rolled my shoulders from the bench, taking a second to drink some water and breathe.
Despite getting experimental during practices, Coach Darlene hadn’t taken away much of my time on the court.
I was still putting up about the same number of minutes I always was, and I was still a starting player.
As time had gone on since the article, I was less anxious than I’d initially been.
It seemed like the team genuinely didn’t care that much, and no one was holding anything against me specifically.
We were used to shit-talking; if we took every single negative comment someone made to heart, we’d never get anywhere.
But even so, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the season might as well have been a wash. A winning record didn’t mean anything if the teams we were playing were barely a competition. And we weren’t even crushing them, which was the most embarrassing part of all.
The whistle blew, and Coach Darlene waved for me to go back up and switch places with Gemma. We clapped our hands together in a low-five as we passed each other.
“Go get ‘em,” Gemma said. “Nineteen is a shit talker.”
“All the better,” I responded and Gemma cackled in response as she took her seat on the bench.
I took position, carefully taking note of everyone on the court.
Anna was the point guard, so we were all meant to follow her lead.
No matter how much I didn’t like her as a person, I owed it to the team—and myself—to at least try to fall in line with her.
I’d learned my lesson during practice and really didn’t need a repeat.
In this moment, I needed to know where she would be before she got there, where to put myself so she could most effectively pass to me if needed.
Anna dribbled, crossing hard to her left to slide by the player blocking her. Ellie set a hard screen and didn’t waver, one of her biggest strengths on the court, and the coverage on Mags was too deep to safely pass the ball to her.
I looked at Anna, seeing a clear pathway for me to get a basket. But just being able to see how we could do it was one thing; it was another to have to actually put it into action. On-court chemistry was hard to fake.
Anna saw the same thing I did, and rather than trying to get the shot herself, she passed it to me.
I was too caught up in the game to be genuinely embarrassed that she was showing me up with her sportsmanship, but I knew that would haunt me later.
Unfortunately, she made it really fucking hard not to like her, and I was starting to realize maybe I needed to drop the jealous, petty act.
I moved the ball up the court and then went for a quick fadeaway, knowing there wasn’t time for me to think about it with a defender coming up on me.
My shot landed perfectly, only just barely brushing the rim. The crowd erupted, and despite my attempt at a cool demeanor, I was sure the relief was written all over me.
I looked over at Leah, a giant smile on her face. For a brief moment, we locked eyes, and I was certain I could see her smile somehow get even bigger. Warmth flooded my chest, and her soft, gentle voice flashed through my memory. I think you’re going to prove them wrong.
It was such a simple statement, but it was everything. It was exactly what I’d needed at exactly the right time.
I forced myself to look away and refocus on the game, knowing I could’ve probably stared at her for hours if I wasn’t careful. We had six minutes left in the last quarter. Just six minutes between us and continuing our undefeated record. This wasn’t the time to get distracted.
When the ball was set back into motion, everything melted away. It felt exactly like it was supposed to. Moving around the court felt as natural as breathing. I didn’t have to think about what to do with my hands or where to put my feet; it just happened.
For the first time all season, I felt back. I felt like myself. Even if just for a moment. The weight lifted from my chest, the noise that’d been buzzing in my head for weeks quieted. I felt still. Level.
I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
As the final buzzer sounded out, I was relieved to realize the win actually felt good.
The hit of dopamine that came with knowing I’d performed to my standards was back; we’d closed the game out with a solid lead, and I’d actually contributed something to the team, which was more than I felt like I could say for every game we’d played so far.
Ellie had shown some improvement in the minutes she’d played, too.
We’d been doing casual practices on the side together, running drills and working through areas of improvement.
We hadn’t been able to do much in just a few short weeks, but it was something.
And it admittedly felt pretty good to know I played a part in that, too, even though Ellie had already been such a strong player.
I was starting to realize the power of just making sure someone knew other people believed in them, as corny as it was.
“You and Anna are good together,” Nia said after we finished shaking the hands of the other team. She squirted water into her mouth and took a deep breath. “At least, when you actually let her play with you instead of playing like you’re one-sided mortal enemies.”
I half rolled my eyes, but I knew she was right to say it. That was exactly the difference in how this game felt compared to the others. I was used to having beef with my teammates, but I wasn’t used to being jealous of them.
Even though Ellie hadn’t said it straight out, I could pick up on what she was suggesting by having me help coach her. We were a team, and we were in this together, whether I liked everyone or not. Annoyingly, forcing myself to play nice was exactly what I’d needed.
“Good movement today, GJ,” Coach Darlene said with a supportive squeeze of my shoulder.
“Thanks, Coach.” I tried to keep my expression as professional and chill as possible, but Leah’s comment about how my face gave everything away popped into my mind.
I looked around to see if she was still there and then remembered that it didn’t matter if she was still here—I couldn’t say hi. Not with Mags here.
Part of me just wanted to say fuck it, but that was a decision I was going to leave up to Leah. Her relationship with her family was already tense; I wasn’t going to add to it until told otherwise.
If ever told otherwise.
I shook the thought away. There wasn’t a universe where Leah was going to want to make this something serious. I knew better than to play that game, even as someone who’d never been in the position of having a crush before.
Before I could get myself too caught up in my feelings, I was dragged off to a post-game presser. As had been the standard for this season, Mags, Anna, and I were the featured members of the Coyotes.
As much as I didn’t mind being the center of attention, I’d come to find these pretty repetitive and usually pretty dull.
There were only so many ways to answer questions about games before it felt like just saying the same things over and over again.
We played hard. There’s always room for improvement, but I’m proud of my team.
Occasionally, we could throw out something like it wasn’t our best, but we learned from it. Rinse and repeat.
The same faces that we saw at every post-game smiled at us as we settled into our seats. It all felt like white noise. Reporters ran through questions, and I answered them on autopilot.
“Following the Sports Illustrated article about your team, we’d expect morale to potentially take a hit, but this seems to be the best game you’ve played all season,” one of the reporters said, making me sit up a little straighter in my seat.
Even though he wasn’t saying my name directly, his eyes were firmly on me.
The knot in my chest tightened, anxiously awaiting whatever was about to come next. “Good motivator to play hard?”
“Is there an actual question in that?” Anna asked from next to me, leaning into her mic.
The room went still—Anna was a skilled player and didn’t necessarily mince her words, but she also wasn’t known for being direct in that way.
“And the article wasn’t about us—it was about recruiters’ opinions of us.
If it’d really been for us, they’d have reached out for a quote.
” Anna paused for a beat and then waved her hand. “Next question.”
I glanced down the table, and Anna looked back at me, a nearly imperceptible look exchanged between the two of us.
Neither of us acknowledged it as we wrapped up the press conference, or as we went back to the locker room. But it still meant something regardless. I wasn’t sure exactly what, but it was something.
I checked my phone to see that Theo had texted, congratulating me on the game and a few of the shots I’d made.
Theo
You looked back today, it was good to see
GJ
Had to have a rough start so I could have an underdog season, you know how it is
Theo
Right, exactly what I was thinking