“Was she okay?”
“Would you be?” he snaps back. He reaches into his back pocket, taking out a wad of paper and handing it to me. “I collected these from the guys’ locker room.” He slaps the printed photos into my hand and my gut turns. Wow, Luke wasn’t kidding when he said they were everywhere. He glares at me, searching for something.
“The photos are fake, Alex.”
“You really expect me to believe that? I’m sorry, but you’re such a hypocrite. After that lecture you give me New Year’s morning, and you did this that exact night?” He scratches his nose. “How am I supposed to…”
“What, dude?”
His eyes meet mine again. “Nothing. I can’t believe you gave me growing up advice about self-image, drinking, and sex when you’ve been doing this stuff with Lucy.”
“Okay, first of all, Lucy is it for me. I’m not with a new girl every other week like you’ve been doing. Second of all, I respect Lucy. Third, the photos are fake.” I take him by the shoulder. “I’d own up to you if they were real, Alex. I promise you that. And fourth, I’m eighteen. You’re fifteen. Comparing the two is not the same.”
“They’re really fake?”
“Yes. Fake. Some creep Photoshopped these. I swear.”
“Looks like you.”
“Argh. It is me. They edited her back to look bare.” I take a deep breath, then explain the entire scenario to him. How many times will I have to tell people about one of the most private but best moments with Lucy ever? It sucked that it isn’t ours anymore.
“Okay, well, if they really are fake, then you should know Lucy spent the afternoon hiding in the janitor’s closet with Marissa.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I saw them both sneak in at different times of the day.” He shrugs. “Ever since Lucy told me about that closet at the end of the summer, I’ve watched it.”
“Why?”
“Something to do. It gives me a chance to play hero and encourage other kids when everything else I did felt wrong.” He stares at the plain wall in front of us. I wait for more, but he doesn’t offer anything up.
“Why would she be with Marissa?” I ask out of curiosity, but also to help him through his thoughts. Lucy never told me much of what happened the night with Marissa after the party, but I can’t imagine they bonded. Not with what Marissa did to her this summer.
“Dude, I saw Lucy’s face today. You didn’t. She’s pretending to be strong, but she’s a mess. Marissa’s a total mess. Misery in company.”
“I can’t believe she’s with Marissa when she won’t even answer my calls.”
“Maybe she’s trying to hide how bad it hurts?”
“Why would she hide that from me?”
“Because you’re perfect?”
“I’m not perfect.”
“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “You know you are.”
If only he knew how much stuff I’m trying to juggle at the same time to keep everyone happy. Or if he knew how I resist my natural impulse when asked a question to snap and tell people to go away. Well, everyone but Lucy. The only thing that stresses me out with her is how much I suck with finding time to be near her.
“I’m far from perfect. I could and should be much better.”
“Nah,” he sucks in a deep breath. “That’s your flaw, man.” I cock an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “You’re trying your best for everyone else. You want to meet everyone’s expectations but your own. Where are your priorities?”
“Where they’ve always been,” I say, frustrated. “Family—Lucy included—school, and work.”
Alex’s eyes drop to study the carpet. “You never asked me about when Sally and I broke up.”
My gut sinks and my heart smacks to the floor.
Family. My priority.
His eyes meet mine, moist. “You haven’t called me in ages, man.” He shakes his head. “The only time we’ve spent together this year is when you dragged me to your house last week when I was drunk.” He holds up his hands. “I’m not blaming you for my stupid decisions. I knew what I was doing when I made them. It was easier than trying to live up to your life. It sucked when you stopped caring about me. I know Jackson’s gone, but you’re a brother to me and it sucks that it’s not the other way around.”
The impact of his words hits me like a freight train. I failed him. We sit together silent for a while. Finally, I find my voice. “Alex, I’m sorry. You’ve always been my younger brother. I’ve never dragged anyone drunk home from a party before and stayed up all night cleaning up their puke.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I elbow him, “and you’re probably the only guy I’d ever care enough about to do it for again. Don’t try to live a life like mine. Be yourself. That’s all I want for you.”
He smiles back at me, and I know we’re good.
“So, Sally? What happened there?”
“She broke up with me because I got a big head.”
“So, you just continued to let it inflate?”
He stretches his arms across his chest. “It was a lot easier than trying to correct my mistakes. But easier isn’t better, we both know that, right?” Alex says and for the first time all day my heart feels hope. The weight that’s been between us the past few months lifts a bit.
“Yes. Definitely.”
“So,” he nods towards the front door on the other end of the hall. “Are you going to stick with Uncle Jeff’s agenda tonight? Or ditch it for Lucy?”
Now, that’s Alex. When he’s himself, he’s simply awesome. He’s right. It’s wrong that I’m still here. Why respect my dad when he doesn’t respect me? No wonder Lucy hasn’t responded to my texts or calls.
He kicks my shoe. “You’re eighteen, man. You don’t have to be here.” He nods back to the door. “Hell, no one in that room wants you around anyway. Just go.” He stands up and extends a hand, pulling me off the ground. “Be the guy you want to be. Not the guy everyone else wants, okay?”
“Thanks, Alex,” I say as I take off down the hall. “I owe you a future reality check.”
“Consider it even, man. Now run!”
Chapter Nineteen
Lucy
He’s not here. Marissa rolls her eyes at me as she catches me looking for him at the South door. We didn’t say much in the closet after I turned the light back off. There was mostly silence and a lot of tears. She followed me to the game though, making sure I made it. Nice, I guess? I still don’t know what to make of it.
McKenzie passes me the ball. The gym door opens as I release it from my hands. Is it him?
No.
Brick shot, off the backboard.
Someone boos from the crowd. Jaclyn wraps her arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Lucy, you’ve got to get over today. Please, get your head in the game. We need you. We’re dying here.”
“Right, sorry.” I rub my eyes, hating myself for being so weak. I used to be able to play basketball with my entire team hating me. Now, I can’t even sink an easy jump shot. Being called a slut isn’t new. I’ve played with those names sneered down my back before. Without Justin here, it’s like I can’t function.
And that scares me. It’s not right.
A ball flies toward my head and I duck. Crap. That was supposed to be a pass.
“TIME OUT.” Coach T’s voice booms from the sideline. “Zwindler, outside, now.” He steps through the gym door that leads to the locker room. I follow, though I’d rather drink shards of glass.
“What’s wrong out there?” he says with a brash tone.
“Bad day.”
“Well, your bad day is ruining us. I’m well aware that you’ve had bad days before, but that’s never stopped you.”
“I know.” The cracks in the steps below my feet look like spiderwebs.
He yanks at the whistle around his neck. “Don’t lose this for us, Zwindler. It’s the division championship game. Don’t you want to go to State?”
&nb
sp; “Of course I do.”
He steps toward me and the stench of his BO is overwhelming. “Then don’t let the fact you’re a slut ruin everything.” His words sting my cheek as he steps out the door.
Everything in my writhes. I hate him. He’s the worst coach and human being I’ve ever met. Why the heck am I even playing for him again?
Because Justin made me.
No, he didn’t make me. He just helped me see how much I missed basketball. I was delusional to think playing with Coach T again would be worth it. He called me a slut! I’m such an idiot. With Justin and Alex, sure, basketball was fun. Why did I think this year could be different? Over the summer, Justin and Alex always made basketball a blast. It’s not like they are ever around when I play now.
Wait, who am I doing this for?
Screw Coach T.
I’m done.
I fly down the stairs to the locker room. I plow through the door, tearing my jersey off.
“Hey, watch it.”
I jump, turning towards the voice. Marissa pulls my sweaty jersey off her head.
“Nice,” she says, tossing it back at me.
I turn my back to her. I know we had a moment in the closet, but I can’t deal with her right now. Not with everything she’s done to me. My fingers struggle to remember my locker combo with Marissa’s eyes on my back.
“Lucy.” Marissa taps her toe on the concrete floor.
“WHAT?” The word flies harshly out of my mouth. That toe tap ruled my life last year. I’m so over being treated like that.
Marissa holds her hands up. “Sorry,” she says, which receives a huge eye roll from me. Yeah, right.
“Where are you going?”
“Home. Where I belong. I’m done with this.”
She leans against the locker next to mine as my fingers finally remember the combo. “Lucy, I think you’re making the wrong decision. You belong up there.”
An absurd laugh flies from my mouth. “I belong up there? Marissa, you were the one who convinced me to give up basketball.”
“I was wrong,” she says quietly, which makes me stop and actually look at her. “Come on. Obviously, I was wrong. Look at my life right now. It’s horrid.”
I nod; no use arguing that.
“If I could do what you do up there, I’d never give it up.”
“Marissa, I don’t play basketball for the attention.”
“I know. It’s not that. You love it. You’re passionate about it. I’m not passionate about anything but myself and that landed me topless, posing for stupid guys, and plastered all over Tumblr. Somewhere between June and now, I lost myself. I claim to be a photographer? I quit yearbook class. I don’t even know how it happened…”
Is she trying to relate to me? “The photos of me were fake, Marissa.”
She laughs lightly. “Lucy, you wouldn’t even change your bra in front of me. There’s no way the photos of you and Justin are real. I’m not saying you’re a skank. I’m saying I am.”
“Okay?” What is she getting at here? I pull on sweats over my shorts.
“Don’t give up what you love for anyone. You’ve made it through an entire season before with a team who hated you. You can make it through one more game with a few people in the stands who don’t respect you. Who cares what people think? Your friends know they are fake, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then go play. Don’t let crap stand in your way.”
“I can’t.” I slam my locker shut. “I just can’t.”
“Why? You’re stronger than that. Why do you think I worked so hard to keep you less than me? Keeping you hidden was impossible… Obviously, it didn’t work. Justin saw you for you.”
Justin. Hearing his name is like having a brick thrown against my chest. Why isn’t he here? Sure, I never texted him back. But what was I supposed to say? I’m fine. I’m not fine. I can’t even grasp how this happened to us. Just because I didn’t return his text doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be here. He promised he wouldn’t miss the game.
I can’t believe he’s not following through. Do I matter to him? Heat drains from my face. That’s just it—he can’t care about me the way I do for him. Wouldn’t I be higher on the priority list? He should be here, especially after today.
“You’re not playing because Justin’s not here, huh?” Marissa sits down on the bench, crossing her legs.
I gaze up at the ceiling, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Lucy, don’t define yourself by a guy. Trust me, you’ll become less than nothing.” The whistle blows above us, signaling the end of the third quarter. “Go do your thing up there. If Justin doesn’t show, who cares? It’s your thing, not his. Go do it.”
She stands then and leaves, without even a goodbye. I turn back toward my locker, the squeak of the door letting me know I’m finally alone. The back of my knees find the bench and I sit, contemplating the person I’d just met. The real Marissa. Weird. I don’t know if I think she’s mean or honest or… I dunno? The important thing is something extra is tugging at my gut. The truth. Whoa, she’s right. How is it possible the only person making sense to me today is Marissa? I’ve let Justin define me, just like I let Marissa do last year.
I’ve got to get back up there and play. Coach T probably won’t let me back on the court, but I’ve got to try. He owes me. I yank off my sweats down to my shorts and pull my jersey back over my head. If he doesn’t let me on, so be it.
And Justin? Maybe he’s up there now and maybe he isn’t. It doesn’t matter. I’m throwing all of the weight of this lie and Justin’s messed up priorities back onto the court.
The light from the gym blinds me for a second as I yank open the door. I gulp, literally swallowing my pride. Coach T meets me at the end of the bench, hands on his fat hips.
“I want to play.”
“I knew you’d come around.”
“No, I’m not playing because of you. I’m playing for me. Got that?”
“Whatever. Just win.” He calls Kiley off the court right before the ref blows the whistle. “You’re in.”
I step on the court and dart between the opponent’s pass, swiping the ball from the air. I drive toward our basket. Easy lay up. Two points. The other team grabs the ball to toss in from the baseline. There’s no way I’m running all the way back to the other side to wait to defend.
Jaclyn nods to me, understanding my game plan. “PRESS,” she yells. Coach T slams his clipboard on the chair. He only likes to press for the last three minutes of a game but I totally don’t care. We’re doing this our way.
Jaclyn steals the ball after two passes then tosses it to me. Their redhead center is on me so I bounce it back, finding my sweet spot on the three-point line. Hands up and, smack, the ball’s back in my hands. Lines aligned in my palm before I let go.
Swish.
Three more.
As I fly down the court, nothing matters anymore but my teammates and the game. The bleachers disappear and the doors don’t exist. Coach T’s shouts fade. Good, glad to get rid of his toxic boom. The only thing taunting me is the scoreboard. But, no matter how hard I fight against it, there’s just not enough time.
Not enough time to repair all of my mistakes from earlier in the game.
The final buzzer rings, solidifying the score. Eighty-seven to seventy-nine. My feet halt at center court. I lost the game. We’re not going to State and the season’s over, all because I momentarily forgot how to be myself. My teammates join me. Jacyln wraps her arm around me.
“I’m sorry, guys.” My head hangs as the noise and the bleachers come back into view. It all crushes in on me. “I’m so sorry. I suck.”
“No,” Jaclyn taps me, “this isn’t your fault. We’ve all had bad days. What do you always say when we attribute a win to you?”
“We win as a team, we lose as a team,” Chelsey says for me. “There’s always next year.”
“But not for some of you,” I say, fully aware of the seniors in the group.
Jacyln and McKenna look at one another. “Honestly, I’m glad it’s over. Coach T’s a nightmare.”
“As evidenced by the fact he just left the gym. The only good thing about the season being over!” Chelsey chimes.
“All right, girls, let’s go congratulate the other team.” Jaclyn puts her hand in the circle and we yell “Eagles!” before breaking away. The gym fills with applause. No one’s yelling slut or booing anymore. They are all cheering for us, louder than the fans of the team who won. Is it possible I imagined that many people cared about the photos? To think I believed I was above caring what people think. I’m just as shallow as before.
We clasp the hands of the new division champs. A blond woman in a blazer hangs out near the baseline, waving me over. My heart skips a beat as I recognize her again, the coach from the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers.
“Quite a game,” she says.
“Yeah,” I sigh, “I…”
“Bad day?”
“You have no idea.” …Oh God. Wait. What if she has an idea?
“We all have bad days. But in the two seasons I’ve followed your playing, I’ve only seen you have one. That’s forgivable.”
“Thanks.”
“Your last quarter was amazing. The stats…Wow.”
“I don’t even remember what happened, honestly.”
“Good, then I won’t throw numbers at you. I don’t like my players having big heads.” She winks. Her players? “Here’s my card. You’re a junior, correct? Give me a call this spring. I’d love to talk to you about a future as a Golden Gopher.”
I gaze at the card in my palm, hesitating like an idiot. “Thanks, I… Wow. Thank you. I’ll definitely give you a call.”
“Good. Keep those grades up.”
“I’ll do that.”
She reaches out and pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry about all the media stuff. One glance at you on the court, and the world will forget it. We’ve got PR reps and stuff. You’re history from today would disappear if you choose us.”
My heart falls through the floor. She knows about the photos and, worse, thinks they are real.
“They’re…” I stop myself. There’s no use telling her they aren’t real. It’ll just look weak, like I’m lying to her. I don’t want that to be her impression of me.
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