by E. M. Moore
Not that I should even be thinking about that right now. Tryouts are tonight. Dad’s been talking to State about Ryan and me. If both of us make the team, the scouts for the mens’ and womens’ team have promised they’ll come check us out. The only thing is, I need to make the team first. I’m even more nervous than I was last year. Last year I was confident despite all the shit the Ballers pulled. This year, I feel as if I’m coming into the season rusty. I’ve let my workouts slide because of the lack of range of motion in my arm. I haven’t gone running as much. All that has changed now in the week before tryouts, but I still feel like I could’ve done more, that I should have done more.
With the guys out on Trial things over the last week, Dawn even volunteered to go for a run with me. When we finished, I had to politely tell her she shouldn’t come with me anymore. Her response: “Oh, thank fuck. That was one of the most miserable half hours of my life.” Now, she’s been meeting me at the track before school. She lays back on the grass while I do my workout. When I run by, she yells, “You got this, Dale” or “Woot, run faster, bitch!” or my personal favorite, “Wow, I really fucking hate you, but keep going. Wooo.”
I decided to end my laps early with that cheer, diving into the grass, clutching my stomach because I was laughing too hard. “You’re ridiculous,” I’d called out.
With my mind preoccupied with these thoughts, the rest of my classes for the day fly by. Like last year, the first day of tryouts is open to the public. Dawn accompanies me in the girls’ locker room while I change into my practice jersey. She braids my ponytail for me, then wraps the elastic around the bottom. My mom and dad are both out there sitting in the stands. So are Leslie and Ron, who I’ve met a couple of times now. He seems really great, and I can tell how infatuated he is with my mother, which makes me like him even more. He doesn’t know a thing about sports though. He’s a business guy. The kind that goes to work in a suit and tie and looks weird in jeans and a t-shirt. I’m okay with that though.
Dawn snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Tessa.” She motions toward the locker room door.
I look up to find Coach waiting there. “Tessa, can I come in?”
I stand so fast I nearly knock Dawn back a step. “Yeah.”
Coach Bradley walks in. He’s wearing an RHS polo that has Coach under our Warriors symbol. “Just wanted to tell you that your urine sample came back fine this year.”
I smile at that. I told him I wanted to take it solo, on a different day than the rest of the guys, and even through a different firm. I was not going to let anything ruin this year for me. He was happy to oblige. “That’s great,” I tell him.
Dawn scoffs. She is one hundred percent behind the theory that Lake messed with my sample last year, and I haven’t even told her he’s hooked on pills. Though, from what little I’ve seen of him lately, he looks fine. Ryan says that doesn’t matter and that he’s excellent at hiding. I only hope he’s brought his A-ball game, and not his A-cheating game. I want his actual game skills where he treats me like any other guy out there on the court.
Fucker.
“Do you mind giving Tessa and I a minute, Dawn?”
Dawn nods, smiles for me, then leaves out the same door Coach just came through. He sits on the bench, and I sit next to him. “How’s your wrist?”
“Doing good,” I tell him. “I think it’s healed up as best as it could in the time I had.” What I’ve said is true, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared that the same thing won’t happen again. Now that I’ve broken that bone, it’ll be easier to injure the same wrist again.
Coach looks down at the floor then back up at me. “Myself, and a couple of other assistant coaches, are going to be watching Lake today. I’ve already made him aware of this. I told him to keep his shit to a minimum because no one’s spot is assured. I mean it. I wanted to tell you that because if I asked you to tell me if something happened during tryouts, I don’t think you would.”
I shrug. I honestly don’t know what I would do. I certainly won’t let Lake get away with anything anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’d go to Coach first. It probably means I’d call him out in front of everyone. I’m not messing with my future anymore.
He pats my back. “I’m rooting for you, Dale. I’m not supposed to say that, but I want more than anything to put another number nine jersey on your back. You got me?”
He gets up and leaves after that, leaving me smiling. I know part of the reason why he’s saying all this now is because he feels like he let me down last year. And, the truth is, he did. He did, along with a bunch of other people, but I’m still here. I’m back and determined now more than ever to play in that Championship game and beyond. There are a few months between now and then, but this is it. This is the first major hurdle I have to get over.
After a deep breath, I stride toward the locker room door and pull it open. Timothy Dale Court is alive with activity. The stands are filled to the brim with media, family members, and students. When I look into the stands, I spot Rhonda and her crew, but I look away, swallowing a lump in my throat. Last year will not repeat itself. I have more people on my side now.
“Let’s go, Tessa!” I hear Dawn yell. It takes me a minute to find her in the stands, but all I really had to look for was David, her huge jock boyfriend. I wave at them both and they wave back.
I’m walking toward the rest of the team when someone catches my eye. Well, I saw a nearby flailing hand first, but who catches my eye is sitting right next to Christie Fisher who’s enthusiastically waving at me. It’s her brother, Chase. I pivot and run up to them. They both give me quick hugs, and I thank them for coming to watch. Chase texted me a few times after he heard about my wrist. This time, I responded, but the texts were short and to the point.
“Glad you’re feeling better,” he says.
“Are you kidding me?” Christie asks, her chin in the air, her gaze eyeing the court in front of her. “She’s about to lay the smack down on all these boys.”
Chase rolls his eyes at his sister, but she makes me smile. That’s exactly what I plan to do.
Coach calls out behind me to round everyone up. I give them a short wave, turn, and jog back to where I’m wanted. Hayes lets me in next to him. All of us are attuned to Coach and even though none of the guys are looking at me right now, I know they’re one hundred percent behind me and that does a lot for my confidence. I shift from foot to foot as Coach gives us a rundown of what to expect. We’re doing warm-ups first, and then, we’re going right into basic skills to pick out who has it and who doesn’t. Sometimes it’s the rudimentary stuff that sets people apart from the pack.
Shawn’s back to tryout this year, as well as Matt. Every one of the bodies surrounding Coach have serious game faces on. I’ve heard about other schools where players just walk on and can play for the team regardless of their skill level, but that’s not the case here at RHS. Coach builds the team expecting to win Championships. The spots are earned. Every one of them. This is exactly why I wanted to push myself and tryout for RHS in the first place.
We run suicides first, and to my surprise, I still finish in the top three. Then, we work passing and dribbling before a bout of rebound drills that Hayes crushes, of course. They’re kind of his specialty. Matt and Shawn have both improved from last year. This is the first time I’ve seen Lux play, and he’s pretty good too. River looks like he’s going to pass out from how nervous he is. It’s difficult for Freshmen to even make the team. He’s good, there’s no denying that, but he also has some of his older brother’s show-off tendencies without the game to back it up. For instance, when we move to shootarounds, there’s a couple of times when River is so eager to show what he’s got, that he doesn’t wait his turn. He throws everyone off, and even though he makes the basket he takes, Coach Bradley has to constantly say shit to him to follow the drill and to stop acting like he’s a solo act.
At the end of Tryouts, Coach calls us in and gives us a big speech about teamwork. H
e’s been touting that recently, and I love the sentiment. Right after he tells us he’ll see us all tomorrow, Sloan drops his arm around my shoulders. “Didn’t we tell that guy he’s not allowed back here?” He thrusts his chin in Chase’s direction.
I smile, deciding to mess with him. “I just figured it would be easier this way. You know, that way he didn’t have to drive all the way out to my house to pick me up for our date.” Sloan blanches. He turns toward me slowly. When he does, though, I’m smiling from ear-to-ear. “Don’t be a douche, Ivy. It doesn’t suit you.”
He shakes his head, his lips are slow to slide into a smile, but they do eventually. “I don’t think that was very funny.”
I shrug. “I thought it was hilarious.”
“You’re lucky your boyfriends are all big and tough or else I’d try to make you toe the line.”
I laugh at that. “You going to beat yourself up now?”
Ryan breaks in after having a conversation with Lux. “Good practice, Tess. You too, dick,” he says to Sloan.
Sloan gives him the middle finger, but when he sees my mother and Ron approaching, he hides it right away. “Hi, Mrs. Dale. It’s so good to see you again.”
“Sloan,” she says with a big smile. “You all did wonderfully. As usual.”
Mom takes note of Sloan’s arm around my shoulder. We talked about him the morning after he spent the night. She asked if we were dating, and since I didn’t know exactly what to say to her, I told her ‘Sort of.’ For some reason, she took that answer and hasn’t asked me about it since. Dad joins us as well as the rest of my Ballers.
“Great first day. You guys looked awesome. Not as awesome as my girl though.” He holds his hand up, and I have to stand on my tiptoes to give him a high-five. He chuckles to himself like he’s told the best joke ever, which only make me smile wider.
Dad continues giving out individual advice to us. He’s taken notes while the practice was going on. For me, his only note is that I seem timid about my shots. I’ll have to improve on that next time.
When he’s finished telling each of the guys something to work on, my mom pulls on Ron’s hand. “We’ll see you at home, Tessa.”
Before she can leave, though, I give her a hug and tell her I’m glad she came to watch me play.
Only three more hardcore tryout days left. Now that the first one is out of the way, I can settle in and just do what I do best.
28
The next few days are some of the hardest fought in my life. Despite the fact that my wrist injury is always in the back of my mind, I throw myself into tryouts. I’m up early running every morning. Dad and Ryan join me. School is a blur of teachers talking and papers being handed out amidst me figuring out how to up my game, worrying about what tryouts will hold, and what Coach Bradley will decide. I know he wants me on the team, but I also know that I have to earn it. He’s not going to just give it to me, nor do I want him to. I want there to be no question when they hand me that jersey that I fucking deserve it. That’s why I’m pushing myself so hard.
The guys give me a wide berth. All of a sudden, I went from having four boyfriends to essentially having zero. I’m living, eating, and breathing basketball. With the added pressure of it being the last year to prove myself in high school, I’m really feeling it. So, when Friday rolls around, and I know I’ve done every single thing I can do to make the team again, I’m wound up in knots. Sloan has helpfully, or not so helpfully, told me he’d help take care of my nerves for me right in the middle of the cafeteria.
“You should take him up on that,” Dawn says, lifting her eyebrows. “You’ve been like a rabid dog this whole week.”
“Like an adorable rabid dog,” Sloan butts in.
I’m under no illusion that I was an adorable anything this week, but it’s cute for him to try.
“You’re in,” Hayes says. “I wouldn’t even worry about it.”
I bite my lip. I hope he’s right, but they also don’t understand making the team isn’t just about that for me. It’s about making sure that everyone else agrees with the decision Coach Bradley’s made. I have to give it one hundred and ten percent because that’s what it takes for people to sit up and take notice.
“I agree,” Alec says. “You’re in. They’d be stupid not to.”
All this talk is doing is making me more nervous. “I’ll be back,” I tell them, then I get up, toss my tray out at the tray return, and walk to my locker. I wish there were some place to be alone right now. Some place I could think without having people just talk me up. I love my Ballers, and I’m glad they want me on their team again, but the thing is, I know they have feelings for me now. Feelings can overshadow their true thoughts. I won’t believe anything until Coach hands me a jersey…or I’ll have to hold my chin up high and fight back the tears because I didn’t make it.
I’ve been making a Plan B since last season. If this season takes the same course, I can always go to State without a scholarship. I can go and try to get on the womens’ team as a walk-on. My forehead leans against the cold metal of my locker. Even though I think those thoughts in my head, I’ll hate that. I’ll hate every freaking second if that’s how I get on the team. Now that I know the Ballers want to go to State, too, it’s the only thing I can think about. I want the scholarship that means I have an automatic spot on the team. I want it all.
Hands wrap around me from behind. Hot breath caresses my neck. The hands start at my thighs and pull up. It’s so familiar, I don’t even flinch. I know who it is. “Do you know who you are?” the breathy voice says.
I swallow.
“You’re Tessa fucking Dale.” His hands move to the insides of my thighs and creep upward. My core clenches at his touch. “You’re amazing. You don’t need anyone to tell you that, so stop with this pity party bullshit. You’ve played with the boys for years. You dominate over them in more than just skill. You’re fucking talented, and you know it.” His hands sweep over the apex of my thighs, just a tease. “You know that. Get out of your own fucking head, and I’ll see you at the court where we’ll both be wearing our deserved jerseys.”
His teeth skim over my shoulder, matching the bite to his words. Then, his hands are gone, a ghost of a touch. Despite breathing heavier, I don’t turn around to watch Ryan go. Instead, I pull my head off the locker, grab my books, and head to my next class just as the bell rings.
Two hours and a lot of replaying what Ryan breathed into my ear earlier, I’m on Timothy Dale Court again. My father’s in the first row of seats. My heart beats hard against my chest like it wants to escape. It can’t take all the pressure, but like Ryan said, I know a lot of that is self-induced. I’m too hard on myself. I’m too everything on myself.
I’m Tessa fucking Dale.
Once again, Coach wheels the cart out with the big box of jerseys in it. My heart flutters like the butterflies in my stomach have taken flight, beating their wings against my chest. There’s nothing to be gained from staring at Coach’s face. He’s a closed book. He goes through the same spiel as last year and tells us this year will be known for being all about teamwork. If we don’t act like a team, we aren’t playing as one. And teams win Championships, individual players don’t.
I shift from foot to foot, my gaze rising to my father’s in the stands. He nods once, his knee jumping up and down. I have no idea if he knows who’s on the team or not. He’s never said. I rub my hand down my temples, but Hayes puts a comforting hand on my back. “Relax, Tessa. You got this.”
I close my eyes as Coach starts to call out names. I clap for Ryan, Sloan, Alec, and Hayes and then wait for the long list of names to continue before I hear mine. Last year, Coach called me last, so I settle in, determined to keep some sort of running count in my head, so I know how many players have made the team and what my chances are. Taking a deep breath, I wait.
“Quintessa Dale.”
My eyes fly open. Coach is staring at me. “Yes?” I ask. Clearly, he needs me for something. Maybe he wants m
e to watch as everyone else is called up. I probably looked stupid for closing my eyes while the first names were called.
A smile pulls at Coach’s lips. He holds a jersey up and shakes it out. Dale. Nine. “Come get your jersey.”
My mouth drops. It’s then that it sinks in. Finally. I admit, I’m really freaking slow right now. He wasn’t calling my name because he wanted me, he was calling my name because I made the team. And he called it right after the Ballers.
Hayes elbows me forward with the arm that’s already holding his jersey, so I fall out of line and then halt again. I feel like such an imposter. I’ve been down this route before. I’ve made the team, made my dream possible—or so I thought—only to have it blow up in my face not a month later.
Applause rises up around me. I turn slightly to see that the Ballers, barring Lake, of course, are clapping, but it’s not just them. It’s all my past teammates and everyone else who tried out with me this year. They’re not just clapping, they’re shouting things, too.
“That’s right!”
“Yeah, Tessa!”
“Get it, Girl.” I’m pretty sure that was Sloan.
A loud whistle brings me back to reality. I turn my head to still find Coach standing there with my jersey. He holds it out to me, and I finally traverse the short distance between my new jersey and me. Coach smiles. “Never a doubt.”
Vindication swallows me into a hole of pride.
When I turn, Lake is scowling at me, but I don’t expect anything less nor do I give a fuck about what that douche thinks. I quickly look past him to my Ballers and see reflected there what I feel inside.
When the last name is called, I barely have time to think before my dad runs up from the stands and hikes me into his arms. He pats my leg, fist bumping the air as the rest of the team celebrates. While I’m up that high, I happen to look the O’Briens’ way. River’s face is smashed into Lake’s chest. I suck in a breath, replaying everything I just heard.