Chapter 18 #2
Nope, it wasn’t friendly at all. Fuck Diane.
She’s been a thorn in my side for years.
She used to play for another team, but now she plays for my old team out of New York.
They traded for her when they released me.
Yes, I dislike her because of that, but no one mistreats Sulley more than her.
She’s had a tongue-lashing coming for a long time, and I did my homework to prepare for it.
The first half of the game is a little shaky.
Sulley, Palmer, and I are all a bit off.
I know why I can’t move properly. I wonder what their excuses are.
It doesn’t help that my fake-as-fuck mother is acting like a schoolgirl, touching and laughing with her boyfriend while my brother is obviously suffering.
And then I saw some random girl flirting with Daylen. I don’t know why it bothered me, but it did. It’s not like he paid her much attention.
By the second half, we get it together and start working well as a team. Diane can’t handle it and starts pushing Sulley around and getting in her ear about how overrated she is. She’s giving Sulley hard elbows every damn time she touches the ball. It’s driving me nuts.
The refs are useless, failing to call any fouls on her. They’re supposed to protect us from this kind of thing, not turn a blind eye.
At some point, Layla is dribbling down the court.
Diane strips her of the ball and starts moving toward their basket.
As is often the case when an opposing player is about to go in for an easy basket, Sulley hustles and wraps her arms around Diane before she can score, taking her to the ground for a hard foul.
Diane goes absolutely berserk, popping up and putting her nose right in Sulley’s face while screaming obscenities at her.
Per normal for Sulley, she doesn’t engage, turns around, and starts walking away.
Diane’s eyes widen in rage at the sight of Sulley ignoring her.
There’s something to be said about the way Sulley handles herself.
If their words and actions are getting to her, she certainly never lets on.
She’s always cool as a cucumber. I think that pisses off our opponents even more.
Once Sulley has walked about ten feet from Diane, I see the moment Diane snaps and she begins to charge at Sulley.
Fuck that. I try to put my body between Diane’s and Sulley’s, but Diane doesn’t stop. I’m not exactly sure what comes over me except a feeling of complete and total protectiveness over my best friend. When Diane doesn’t alter course, I pull my fist back and pop her right in the nose.
I swear I didn’t mean for it to be as hard as it was. I didn’t mean to knock her out cold and very obviously break her nose.
But I do. And mayhem ensues. Both benches clear as players start to tangle. Every referee is blowing his or her whistle. Players and fans are all screaming. People are throwing things onto the court. It’s madness.
I’m the intended target for most of their players as they thrash at me, grabbing my hair and my jersey. I’m taking elbows left and right. Before I realize it, both my father and Daylen are pulling people away from me.
The next ten minutes are a blur. I get ejected from the game, and I know a big suspension is coming my way. Maybe even worse. Reagan warned me about my behavior. I completely lost control out there today.
Tears are streaming down my face. Fallon wraps her arm around me protectively and escorts me off the court to the locker room. Once the locker room door closes and the buzz of the mayhem is more distant, I fall to my knees and begin sobbing.
Fallon gets down on the ground with me and pulls me into an embrace. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry. You were protecting your teammate.”
I sob out, “Reagan is going to kill me. She told me this was my last chance, and I blew it. She might release me. I may never play ball again.” I suddenly feel like my world is falling apart.
I cry on her shoulder while she caresses my hair. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. We’re not losing you. Everyone loves you. You’re important to this team on and off the court.”
I pull my head up and look at her. “Why are you so nice to me?”
Confusion crosses her face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“People aren’t normally nice to me,” I raise my voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not easy to get along with. I have resting bitch face, and I’m kind of cunty to people.”
She releases a small laugh. “Well, I get along with you. You’re not cunty to me.” She grabs me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes. “You’re going to get through this. I promise. Everyone on this team will have your back, just like you always have theirs. That’s how real friendships work.”
I nod as my tears begin to slow down. I look at the state of her stained top from my crying. It’s covered in blood and makeup. “I’m sorry I ruined your nice suit,” I cry.
She holds me closer, clearly not caring what it’s doing to her outfit. “It’s okay. It was last season’s design anyway.”
It’s not. It’s new. I know fashion, but I appreciate that she’s trying to make me feel better about it.
I’ve only known this woman for a few months, but somehow, she’s giving me comfort that I’ve never received before. And it feels nice.
I wake in the morning to my doorbell ringing.
I left the locker room shortly after my embarrassing meltdown in Fallon’s arms, not wanting to talk to anyone or face the proverbial music.
My phone started blowing up immediately, but I ignored that too, powering it down before I even got home.
I crawled into bed and cried myself into a restless sleep.
I groggily make my way to the front door and look through the peephole. It’s Reagan. Reality sets in. She’s going to release me. No other team will want me. My career is over. At least she has the decency to tell me to my face.
I take a deep breath, trying to build the courage to deal with what I know is coming my way. I open the door, expecting her to look venomous, as I’m sure she was one of the many people calling me last night, but I can’t read her impassive expression.
“Can I come in?” she asks calmly. I nod, and she walks into my apartment with me closing the door behind her.
As always, she’s dressed impeccably with perfect hair and makeup. I find myself wondering if she doesn’t have stylists living at her house. I guess she’s rich enough to have them on payroll. Why not?
She turns around and places her hand on my shoulder with nothing but concern written on her face. “Are you okay?”
I chew my lip nervously. “I suppose it depends on what you’re about to say. Am…am I off the team?” I ask as I unsuccessfully attempt to swallow down my emotions.
She jerks her head back as if surprised by the question. “Off the team? Are you crazy? You’re the heart and soul of this team.”
“I am?”
She lets out a laugh. “Yes, Kennedy, you are. I don’t condone you knocking out another player in the league, but you were defending Sulley.
I’ve watched the tape a million times. She was about to hurt Sulley—there’s no denying that.
Kennedy,” she looks into my eyes, “you’ve been everything I’ve hoped you would be and more.
You’ve done exactly what I asked of you.
We’re not bailing on you just yet, sweetie. ”
I exhale a long breath in relief. “Thank you so much. How…how long is my suspension?”
Her face tightens a bit. “Well, the league called me this morning and told me you’re being suspended for a month and being fined five-thousand dollars.”
My eyes widen. “Holy shit, I’ve never had one that bad.”
“Have you ever knocked another player out cold and broken her nose?”
I lower my head and shamefully admit, “No.”
“Right. Sulley insisted on covering your fine.”
“She doesn’t have to do that. I’ll take accountability for my actions.”
Reagan shakes her head. “She did have to do that. You saved her from certain injury, and she can more than afford it with everything she’s got going on.
Let her pay. You’ve been a good teammate to her, and now she’s returning the favor the best way she can.
As for your suspension, I was able to negotiate it down to two weeks. ”
I perk up at that bit of news. “Oh. That’s not so bad. I’ll only miss four games.”
Her face twitches a bit. “There’s a condition.”
“What condition?” I ask with both fear and suspicion.
She briefly pinches her lips together. “They want you to go to rehab. It’s technically for anger management. We’re going to officially call it a wellness retreat, but it’s a certified rehab facility.”
“What?” I turn and walk toward my living room with anger bubbling inside me. “No fucking way. I’m not doing that weird, talk about your feelings shit.”
She follows me into my apartment. “You are,” she announces with authority.
“Like you said, with a two-week suspension, we only lose you for four games. With a month suspension, we lose you for nine. That’s twenty percent of our season.
You’re too important to this team to lose you for so long.
Think of it as a little rest and recovery time.
I found you a nice facility in Maine. It’s beautiful up there in the summer.
Unplug. Take some time to chill out and recharge. ”
I’m quiet. I don’t want to do this, but I feel like I have no other choice but to acquiesce.
She cracks a small smile. “You’re going to like what I have to say next.”
“I doubt it,” I mumble, pouting like a spoiled child with my arms crossed.
Her smile widens. “Have you been on social media this morning?”
I shake my head. “No, I turned off my phone last night. It was blowing up, and I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”