Chapter 12
Keira
The following week, Keira sat opposite her father, deep in thought.
The chess board between them had a maze of potential moves on its surface.
Both father and daughter stared at it in concentration.
Both rested an elbow on an armrest, their chins in their hands.
Keira finally made a decision and reached towards the piece she wanted to move.
Her father’s phone rang, making her jump.
“Hello?” he answered. Keira’s ears perked up. “Mm-hmm, ok.” He paused again. “Yes, I can be there at three. Thank you, bye.”
“Everything okay?” she asked, picking up one of her bishops.
“Yes, fine. The GP just wants me to go in for an appointment tomorrow.”
Keira nearly dropped the chess piece.
“What? Why?”
Her father shrugged in response.
“I’ll drive you.”
“I’m not an invalid, and I don’t need a babysitter,” he said, voice filled with exasperation.
“But—”
“No buts. I’m a grown man, Keira. You needn’t fret so much. Surely you have better things to do.”
She sighed.
“I just worry.”
“I know, sweetheart, but I’ll be fine. I promise I’ll tell you if I need help, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, resigned to being forced to the sidelines. She had tried to give him more space, but it clearly hadn’t been enough.
“You should be out there, enjoying your life, not stuck in here with me. Go to some wild parties or a club crawl, or whatever you kids do these days.”
“I’m not twenty-one anymore, Dad. Bit old for that sort of thing.”
Her father scoffed and waved his hand towards the board.
She put the bishop, now hanging in mid-air, back down on it's original square. She couldn’t remember where on the board she had planned to put it.
Her dad wasn’t due any appointments soon since his last round of treatment had concluded recently.
He’d had a blood test a few days ago. Was that it?
Was there something else wrong? The oncologist would call if it was cancer related, though, not the GP, surely?
“Earth to Keira?” Her dad once again waved at the board.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to see where she’d planned to put the bishop. Eventually, she just had to guess and placed it down, threatening his queen. He moved his queen out of the line of fire and used it to put her into check.
“Oh,” she said simply. Her father chuckled.
A few moves later, her father had successfully pinned her king near the corner and checkmated her.
“Want to go again?” He spun the board around and began setting up the pieces. Keira checked the time on her phone and saw a few notifications from Amelia.
“I can’t, sorry, I’ve got to leave for the game soon.”
“Of course. I’ll happily beat you another time.” He grinned, continuing to place his pawns in a row.
“Whatever, old man. I’ll get you when you least expect it.” Keira said, chuckled, and stood up, trying to remember where she’d left her basketball bag.
“I’d like to see you try!” he called to her retreating back as she entered the hallway.
She walked up the stairs, checking her phone as she did so.
Amelia had sent her a couple of funny basketball memes.
This was new, since the team trip to Winter Wonderland.
They’d texted before, but usually about training times or game plans or team meetings.
This casual communication outside of basketball was bittersweet.
Keira was happy Amelia thought of her, but each text reminded her Amelia was off-limits.
That didn’t stop her replying though. She found the perfect GIF to send in response.
Her bag was on the desk chair, probably still full of smelly kit she forgot to wash.
She grabbed a clean change of clothes from her drawers and shoved them in the bag, along with the towel off the back of the chair.
She then rummaged around a pile of dirty washing for her Blizzards hoodie and put it on.
She’d need the extra layers before stepping out into the bracing cold.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she sat down on the bed to check it.
I forgot to send you this the other day.
A picture message came through; the selfie they had taken at the Winter Wonderland.
Keira could still feel the warmth of Amelia’s body pressed against her on the Ferris wheel.
Her whole body had felt like it was vibrating any time she went anywhere near Amelia after that, like something interfering with a radio transmission.
She could have sworn, more than once, she caught Amelia watching her out of the corner of her eye, with an expression something like wistfulness.
Her dad sneezed downstairs, making her jump and drawing her back to the present.
What if his phone call had been a prelude to bad news?
The knot in her chest tightened, and she mentally kicked herself.
How had she allowed herself to get distracted by someone off-limits when her dad was in the biggest fight of his life?
A fight for his life? By the time she’d run through a few dozen worst-case scenarios, she was running late for the game.
Bounding down the stairs two at a time, bag on her shoulder, she shoved her feet into her trainers and gave her dad a hurried half-hug.
“I’m off, bye!” she said.
Her dad chuckled when, a few seconds later, she crashed back into the house to grab her keys and her water bottle, which had stood forgotten on the top of the bookcase turned shoe rack.
Amelia
Amelia kept glancing at the clock in between her warmup shots.
There were currently only ten players on the court, and she was starting to worry.
Keira had replied to Amelia’s texts that morning, so she couldn’t have fallen off the face of the earth.
She did have a history of cutting it fine, time-wise.
But she’d never actually been late. Especially on game day.
Amelia just hoped she got here before the official player introductions.
With Evie still injured, they couldn’t afford for Keira to not turn up.
The doors to the sports hall burst open and Keira came tumbling through, hair slightly messy and bag clinging on to her shoulder for dear life.
She muttered some quick apologies to Coach Grant and TJ, dumped her bag by the bench, and grabbed a ball.
She dribbled to the same side of the basket as Amelia.
Amelia tried to catch her eye, but Keira kept looking away.
Or maybe you’re just imagining things. Determined to focus, she put up another shot.
It wasn’t long before the referees sent them back to their changing rooms for their final team talk and player introductions. Amelia could only hope Keira had her head in the game.
Partway into the match, the sound of supporters and the opposing team’s bench cheering for the opposition defence echoed through the sports hall, drowning out Amelia’s thoughts as she raced down the court.
Sweat glistened on her brow, and her ponytail whipped behind her with each stride.
She was frustrated; the Blizzards were missing easy layups and not boxing out properly, allowing the Raiders all the rebounds.
The scoreboard overhead glared back at her — Blizzards 35, Raiders 62.
Her heart sank. She knew professional basketball would be hard, but this was awful.
“Keira!” Amelia yelled, darting into position beneath the net.
But Keira, her eyes locked on the hoop, either didn’t hear her or chose not to.
Instead, she charged forward and tried to shoot over a defender, but the shot bounced off the rim and straight into the hands of the opposition.
Amelia spun and sprinted back to defence, swearing under her breath.
Her lungs burned with the effort of guarding her opposition player.
Keira bolted out of the defensive line, attempting to single-handedly steal the ball back, leaving their defence wide open.
The Raiders easily set up a pick and roll, giving them a straight run to the basket; 35-64.
Amelia scowled at Keira, then turned to the bench.
Making a ‘T’ sign with her hands, she signaled Coach Grant.
Coach Grant nodded and spoke to the table.
The next time the Raiders scored, the table sounded the horn and pointed in the Blizzards’ direction for a timeout.
The team regrouped on the sidelines, their faces etched with exhaustion and defeat.
“We’re handing this game to them.” Amelia's voice shook as she fought to contain her anger.
She looked directly at Keira. “We need to play as a team. No one can turn this game around on their own.” She looked around the huddle before her gaze landed back on Keira.
“Let's try and make better opportunities for a shot, by working as a team.”
“We’re doing our best, cap,” Lucy protested, wiping sweat from her forehead. Amelia glared at her. Lucy wasn’t the problem, and she knew it. Amelia opened her mouth to speak again, but Coach Grant’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Your best isn’t good enough if we’re not playing as a team,” Coach Grant said. Her face was also damp with perspiration from the heat generated on court. “Amelia’s right. You need to start trusting each other.”
Everyone in the circle nodded. They did their team shout and ran back onto the court. Before Keira had a chance to leave, though, Coach Grant got her attention.
“If you don’t start passing the ball, I’ll sub you out,” she said sternly, while Amelia stood by her side. Keira’s glare felt like a slap aimed at her before they both returned to the court.