Chapter 25
Ezra
I’m not good enough.
It’s all I could think out there on the court just moments ago. It’s what echoed in my head when I twisted my ankle. It’s what I’m thinking right now as Rue descends the bleachers to get to me.
I’m not good enough. I’m just a kid with rich parents who paved my way in life.
I’ll never earn anything on my own.
As Rue reaches me, my stomach sinks in despair with the realization that I’m not getting that scholarship.
There’s no way, not after I fell and had to lie low the rest of the game.
After I blew that winning shot by pushing through my opponent.
Not only will my insecurities be confirmed, but I’ll have no confirmation that I’ve done something in my life without my parents’ help for once.
“You did amazing out there, Davis,” Rue breathes. Her face is practically glowing as she wraps her arms around me.
For a minute, I’m frozen in surprise, but I thaw quickly and hug her back. With her in my arms, it’s hard to remember what I was just worrying about. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”
She laughs as she untangles herself from my embrace. “Does that sound like something I would do? Lie to spare your feelings?”
“No. But I messed up bad. There’s no way I—”
“Davis,” Coach barks at me from across the court. “Locker room. Now.”
I deflate. “See? I’m about to get an earful about how badly I just messed up my entire future. I’m not good enough. Not for that scout, Rue.”
She looks appalled as she rears back with a frown on her face. “Good enough? Ez, of course you are. Whether or not you get the scholarship, you’re good enough for your team and good enough for me.”
My heart swells. “For you?”
Rue blushes. “That’s what I said.”
“Davis, I’m not gonna ask you again,” Coach yells.
“Go,” says Rue. She giggles and gently pushes my chest. “We can talk when you’re done…about everything.”
“I’d—I’d like that.” I barely manage to get the words out. My heart is beating triple speed, and my palms are sweating.
“Go,” she says again.
I walk backwards toward the gym, so I don’t have to stop looking at her right away before turning back around and limp-jogging to where Coach and the rest of the team are waiting.
As I go, I say a small, silent prayer. I know Rue says I’m good enough, but it’s not true.
I haven’t trusted You enough. I’m going to try to do better, and whatever happens, I know it will be Your will, and that’s good enough for me.
When I enter the locker room, everyone is quiet. Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepare for Coach Dresden to rip into me for that foul.
But he doesn’t rip into me.
Instead…he’s smiling. And a man with a clipboard is there with him, and he steps forward to shake my hand. “Ezra, right? I’m Coach Stevens from Harbor University.”
My stomach drops.
“I’ve been watching you and another player this season,” he continues. “And tonight, even with the injury, I saw what I needed to see.”
Hope rises in my chest. “You did?”
He nods. “We’re still in the evaluation process, but I’d really like to stay in touch. Talk to your coach, review some film, go over academics. You’re definitely on our radar.”
On our radar.
I think I black out, or maybe hallucinate what happens next: me thanking him, my team cheering and whooping, and Coach Dresden’s fist bump of approval. It all happens in a blur. I can’t believe it’s real.
But it is.
I didn’t ruin my chances. The fact that I even have a chance tells me everything I need to know. My parents had nothing to do with this.
Staring at the ceiling, I can’t help but smile through the emotion burning in my throat.
Thank you.
It’s weird to be in the audience on opening night for the musical. Up ’til now, I’ve been up in that box above the audience with Rue. But now I get to see the full impact of her work for the show.
Yeah, Meredith and Carlton are the stars.
Dot and Zayne even steal the limelight a few times with their acting.
Mabel does a great job, too. But I know what Rue is doing behind the scenes in the sound booth, and how, without her or the rest of the crew, there would be no musical.
They’re all just as important. The only difference is that they’re not up on the stage with the actors for everyone to lay eyes on and applaud.
The music sounds so much better than it used to, and the transitions are smooth, almost seamless. I catch the way the lights shift perfectly with Meredith’s solo, the way the sound lands exactly where it should.
Rue did this. She fixed this foul play all on her own.
When it’s over, I wait for her with a bouquet of yellow roses outside the exit.
The theater, being near the front of the school, has an exit that leads straight outside, so I stare at the starry night as I wait for her.
As her friends make their way out, I catch them discussing an afterparty to celebrate opening night.
My gaze briefly locks with Meredith as she and Carlton happily skip through the exit, but she doesn’t say anything to me.
Dot offers me a small wave as she passes me, and Mabel even smiles sadly.
And when Rue finally emerges, an adorable grin lights up her entire face. “How was it?”
“Amazing, obviously.” I hand off the flowers to her so I can lift her by the waist and spin her around.
She squeals.
When I set her down, I almost lean down and kiss her, but we still haven’t talked about us. Our impending breakup, or where we stand now that we kissed for real, and I don’t want to push it.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she says. “I’m just glad everything went well.”
“Of course it did.” I tap her nose. “You’re just as much a star as everyone else, you know.”
She blushes. “Thanks. The crazy thing is…after tonight, I got to see how important working behind the scenes is. There really are no small parts in theater.”
“I agree.” I can’t stop smiling at her. I’m just so proud. Finally, it seems like she’s accepted the fact that she’s important even if she’s not front and center like her mom wants her to be sometimes.
“By the way, I’m done writing all those letters.”
Ah, yes. The letters. Rue and I came up with the idea together when she was exposed as Little Birdie. Somehow, I’m not surprised she’s already done handwriting a lengthy, heartfelt apology for each of her friends. “When are you going to give them to everyone?”
“Monday at school.”
“Let me know if you want me there for, uh, moral support. Or anything, really.”
She bites her lip to keep from smiling. “Okay, I will.” Her phone buzzes, and she checks it and blushes. “My mom is waiting for me in the parking lot. But text me?”
“Okay.” Leaning down, I hug her, trying to memorize the feel of her soft warmth against my chest. It’s like a dose of elation.
And then she lets go. I watch her walk away.
And all the while, I kick myself for not saying more, for not telling her I love her, no matter how terrifying it is.