Chapter 28
AVERY
RAWLEY: Just saw the news. Congrats starter
That’s right, I got the call from Coach Anker a few hours ago.
I’m starting tonight for the first time. The very game Dylan, Hazel, and Wells are coming to see.
We’d played a game in between my breakout one and today’s, and I’d been strong again—not as on fire, but still statistically well above my early norm, with twenty-two points and eight assists.
“It was seeing you consolidate your big game with another solid one that brought me to this decision,” Coach had explained. “It’s time.”
Yes, yes it is. I’m so ready.
I turn back to the message from Rawley.
AVERY: Thanks!
AVERY: Wait, how did you know?
RAWLEY: I have the Surge IG account tagged as a favorite, so the announcement post popped up.
AVERY: There’s a post?
RAWLEY: Yup. You’re going to freak out about how many likes it has. I commented too.
AVERY: Oh god.
RAWLEY: “That’s my woman.”
AVERY: Everyone must have loved that. Breaking the internet?
RAWLEY: Taylor told me good job so…
AVERY: Wait, aren’t you in the middle of your practice? OTA, right?
RAWLEY: Yeah, but we’re on a break.
RAWLEY: Are you excited for tonight?
AVERY: Definitely.
RAWLEY: It’s good you don’t get nervous.
AVERY: Not with hoops.
RAWLEY: I bet you have another insane night.
AVERY: We’ll see.
AVERY: If I do, will I get a reward?
RAWLEY: Fuck yes.
AVERY: How about this—if I get another double-double, you have to do anything I want the next time we’re together.
RAWLEY: We’re already going to the concert, right?
AVERY: I don’t mean at the concert. I mean once we’re at home.
RAWLEY. Oh shit.
RAWLEY: Yes, I’ll be your willing and obedient subject.
AVERY: Great. Done.
AVERY: Off to do my best to win the game AND the bet.
RAWLEY: There really doesn’t seem to be losers in these bets.
I put a laugh reaction on his last text and set the phone down. I need to scramble to get to the arena.
Dylan and crew are already on their way from Tampa, and I can’t wait to see them. Hazel just turned five, so I bring her a plushie collectible doll that Dylan says she’s obsessed with.
When I get to the arena, I beeline to the locker room to get ready.
My first day starting. I can tell people are checking me out, even the staff, as I walk through the arena. Seeing how I’m reacting to the shift.
The locker room is the same way, my teammates watching me, not really talking. Sarah squeezes my shoulder, but no one says anything otherwise.
I get it with the team especially, because Katrina is right here too.
I’ve never “taken” someone’s starting spot before—I’ve just had it from the beginning of the season. Now that it’s a reality, at the highest level possible, I feel self-conscious about it and the weird energy it can create on a team.
Coach Anker comes out of her office about five minutes after I arrive, and clears her throat.
“I know we’re making a change today. We are a team though, and we all have the same ultimate goal—winning the championship. We’re only going to get there together.”
“That’s right,” Wendy says.
“So let’s keep playing as one,” Coach continues. “And kick Sacramento’s butt today.”
“On it, Coach,” Amari says.
The chatter reaches a more normal level after that mini–pep talk. But I don’t quite settle my edge, still feeling a little off kilter about how to act with Katrina around.
Surprisingly, she’s the one who sorts that out.
As I lace my shoe, I see her coming toward me.
Oh hell, I really don’t want to deal with this.
Instead of making a nasty comment though, she extends a hand.
“I know I’ve been…it’s been weird between us, but you earned that spot, Parker.”
It comes out of her mouth like she’s been rehearsing it. Who knows if she really means it?
But, yeah, if this “truce” is going to correct the vibe I’m feeling, I’ll move past this thing between us. Forgive, if not forget.
“Thanks,” I say while I take her hand. “Like Coach said, we’ll do this together.”
She nods before dropping her hand and retreating to her bench. I drift my eyes to Sarah, who’s watching. Catching that she’s in my line of sight, Sarah shrugs.
Yeah, same. Shrug. But I’ll take Katrina at her word, if cautiously.
Thankfully the drama is broken up a minute later, when Dylan texts me.
DYLAN: Here.
My excitement rears up again in response. I’d asked Kayla to help him with VIP parking, courtside seats, and an escort in the building so they don’t get mobbed. Dylan and Wells can handle fans, but it’s for the best for Hazel here.
I go to Coach’s office. “Is it okay if I duck out for five minutes? My family just got here.”
“Yes, but don’t be late.” She’s smiling, not stressed.
I scoot down the hallway where Kayla brings guests, and yup, there they all are.
“Hiiiiiii,” I say as they scoop me up in a group hug.
“Aunt Avewee, I lost my first tooth,” Hazel declares from within the embrace.
“Definitely the priority conversation topic right now,” my brother whispers to me, laughing. As I said, only his daughter gets his cheerful side.
“That’s amazing, Hazel.”
I take a closer look at the two “boys” as we break apart. Dylan has our black hair, and at twenty-four, his six-foot-eight frame has fully filled out. None of the scrawniness from our teenage years left.
Wells, on the other hand, is still a ginger, though his hair has darkened a tad from childhood. That red comes from his dad’s side. At nineteen, he’s slightly shorter and thinner than my brother.
“I’m so”—Wells looks to Hazel—“fricking excited we get to be at your first start, Aves.”
“Me too, me too.” I turn to my niece. “And here’s a present for your birthday, Hazel. Sorry it’s a couple of weeks late.”
“Awwww, yay!”
Dylan takes the wrapped gift off my hands.
“I’ll talk to you guys more after the game, but I should probably get back to the locker room.”
Dylan nods, and Kayla speaks to them next. “I’ll take you all to your seats.”
We part, and twenty minutes later, when I and the rest of the team come out on the floor, they’re courtside.
My big brother wears a slightly protective expression now that they’re seated publicly. It’s a reflection of not just his natural demeanor, but also his reality. He’s been famous for much longer than me, and cameras everywhere are honed in on him.
He’s placed headphones on Hazel to protect her ears from all the noise in the arena, and she’s playing with the toy I gave her in her arms.
Wells, predictably, is talking to a beautiful woman in a seat above them. She looks around his age and has a Tolliver University shirt on—potentially a student there.
My cousin may have been the one who told me about Topher four years ago, but he’s an unapologetic player himself, especially these days. He’s not a liar about it, mind you, unlike my ex. He’s transparently out for a good time.
I notice that he takes the woman’s phone and seems to type something in it. Presumably his number. Sheesh, that was fast.
I don’t begrudge Wells for being this way, as long as he’s honest about it and doesn’t hurt anyone. But it’s exactly the type of behavior that turned me off from athletes for good. Why I have the rule in place.
It’s all too easy for them.
Pulling my sight from my family, I concentrate on our warmups, grabbing a ball to take as many shots as I can get in the remaining time.
When we go back to the bench, Sarah whispers in my ear, “You ready for the best part?”
I don’t know what she means until the lights dim a split second later and spotlights start racing across the floor, instrumental music with heavy beats blasting.
NOW LET’S MEET THE STARTERS FOR YOURRRRR ORLANDO SURGE, the announcer blares across the arena.
Oh yes, THIS.
At guard, please give a round of applause for number twelve, Amari Whitleyyyyyyy.
Amari runs up on the floor, waving to the fans, spotlights following her.
I start getting goose bumps as the announcer introduces Marisa, Wendy, and Sarah next. I guess she’s saving me for last.
Then I’m the only one left.
And finally, let’s give an extra special cheer for GUARD AND FIRST TIME STARTER, NUMBER EIGHT, AVERY PARKERRRRRR.
The crowd goes wild as I run up to my teammates, who all give me high fives. I turn and wave to all the sections of the arena, like they did.
This may be my first time, but I’m making sure it’s not the last.
That’s in my hands now, because with the intros over, it’s time for real ball.
“Starters, get in position,” I hear a ref shout out.
All five of us walk to our places together as Wendy goes to the center of the court for the tip-off.
I twist my head toward Dylan before the whistle blows, and he shoots me a wide smile.
I guess Hazel isn’t the only person who can make him happy after all.
Wendy wins the opening tip-off, deflecting the ball to Marisa, who brings it into our side of the court.
She passes it back swiftly to Amari, who calls the play. As I execute my part of it with a backdoor cut under the basket, the ball lands in my hands.
I shoot and swish.
An easy two.
We’re in rhythm quickly and I forget that it’s my first game starting, all the drama with Karina, any of the press nonsense.
I just play hoops.
And when the clock runs out after the full forty minutes of game play, what do you know?
I have twenty-two points and eleven assists.
A double-double.