Dad covered his face and ducked out.
Toby spun slowly, holding out his phone. “Yep, there’s her closet, her dresser, her trophies, her—whoops, don’t mind those undies on the floor there—Lizzy! Lizzy Legend! How we feeling this morning?”
I glared.
“Obviously, she’s a little tired after her record-breaking performance. That was a long flight home, wasn’t it? Hey, let’s take some questions from the comment section. @fame_game_99 asks: ‘Hello, sir, I see you recently googled “how to get really really really famous and”’— Whoa boy! That’s not a real question. That’s some Instaspam. Ha-ha. Not sure how that got there. Nothing to do with my search history, I’m sure. Let’s get to a real question, from @aussi_jenn: ‘Lizzy, how do you feel being such an inspiration to so many girls out there?’ ”
“Um, it’s nice, I guess. I don’t know. I just play basketball.”
When the “interview” finally ended, twenty minutes later, and it was just the two of us, I said: “What the heck, man?”
“What?”
“You can’t just walk in and ambush me like that.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“I just woke up.”
“Sleeping in now, are we?”
I hadn’t even realized.
It was almost noon.
Normally, I would’ve been up for hours.
Practicing at the playground.
But what was the point?
“I have a big game tonight,” I said. “I need to get ready.”
I peeked down at my phone.
He caught me.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re being weird.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“I was just looking back at that old—”
Tink!
“What the—?”
A pebble hit the window.
Outside, a swarm of reporters were fighting for space in the street.
News vans, far as the eye could see.
The Press Monster had found our house.
The local guy, Chad Stephens, was clinging to a telephone pole.
He was the one who’d thrown the pebble.
“LIZZY!” he yelled, microphone extended. “LIZZY, CAN YOU TELL US—”
I backed away.
Closed the blinds.
Crossed my arms.
“Whose side are you on?” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you with them?” I nodded toward the media. “Or with me?”
“With you. Of course.”
“Good. Then I need you to do me a favor.”
I have a unique set of skills,” Toby was saying, eyes narrowed, paraphrasing one of his favorite movies. “And for this task, I believe I am—”
“You sound like Batman holding in diarrhea,” I said.
“Ha-ha.”
“Well, whatever. Just make sure it works.”
“Please. I’ve been training for this moment my entire life.”
It was true. He did have a special skill that would finally be useful—drawing attention to himself. I needed two minutes to think without rocks hitting the freaking window or some reporter breaking down the front door. He opened the window and stuck his head out.
I mean, he tried to stick his head out.
But his flat-top wouldn’t fit.
So he tilted his head and stuck it out sideways.
“Hear ye! Hear ye!” he said. “I have an important announcement, er, proclamation to make on behalf of . . .”
While he was reading from my social studies notebook in a Shakespearean accent, I closed the door behind me and sat on the steps, where it was quiet.
I took out my phone.
I reread the old text.
[RESTRICTED NUMBER]
Thank you.
Please keep this for your records.
Wish #39765488335251 has been granted.
Term Reply X – 01
The last line caught my attention.
Term Reply X – 01
Deep down I think I’d known it all along.
It could only mean one thing.
I had one credit left.
One wish.
Crazy as it sounds—
Part of me wanted to use it to unwish my wish.
To put myself back in control again.
To win or lose on my own merit.
But that was stupid.
Reckless.
No.
Instead, I would use it to wish for more wishes.
Like I should’ve done all along.
Like Toby had said.
That way, if I decided I wanted to selectively relieve myself of the power, I could. And if I decided I wanted it back, no problem.
Ultimate control, right?
My hands were shaking as I thumbed in my reply.
I wish for more wishes.
I closed my eyes.
Hit send.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
No response.
I typed it again.
Hit send.
I wish for more wishes.
Still no response.
Nothing.
Curious, I typed in just what the robo-text said after the word “Reply.”
X – 01.
I deleted it.
Typed it again.
But this time just the X.
I hit send.
The phone rang immediately.
I jumped up.
It worked!
The mechanical voice.
“Hell-o.”
“Hi it’s me I don’t have much time I need to—”
“Hell-o. How are you, to-day?”
“I’m fine, but I really don’t have—”
“Your re-ver-sal has been re-ceived.”
“Reversal? What re—”
“Thank you.”
“I want more wishes!” I yelled. “I wish for more wishes! I wish for more wishes!”
“Thank you. Good-bye.”
I moped back into my bedroom.
Toby pulled his head back in and shut the blinds. “How’d it go?”
“Um, not so good.”
“What do you mean?”
My hands were still shaking.
“You choked?” he said. “You choked under pressure?”
“I didn’t choke,” I said. “It just didn’t let me make any more wishes.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “It just said, Your reversal has been received.”
“Reversal?” He paced around the room, shaking his head. “Whoa boy. Whoa boy. This is bad. This is bad.”
“What?”
“It did occur to me.”
“What?”
“But not until—”
“What?”
He tore a page from my social studies notebook.
“Hey!”
“Oh, now you’re worried about your social studies quiz?”
I glared.
He crumpled the paper and offered it to me. “Shoot.”
“Huh?”
He nodded to the trash can across the room. “Shoot.”
“This is stupid.”
“Just do it. Let’s see.”
I shot.
Perfect form.
Arm extended.
Wrist tipped down like the head of a swan.
Clank.
The paper ball hit the side of the can and fell on the carpet.
“Lemme try that again.”
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Swish.
“There,” I said. “See. It’s fine. Right?”
But I knew it wasn’t.
Toby held up his phone. “You know when you get those spam texts, and you can, like, reply STOP or whatever to unsubscribe?”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking about that las
t line in the text. Term.”
“Term?”
“As in terminate.”
Oh, god.
I couldn’t believe it. Just hours before the biggest game of my life, to be played on national television, and streamed live all over the planet—against Sidney freaking Rayne—I’d canceled the power. I’d voided the wish.
Dad poked his head in. “Hey, you guys ready to go?”
4th Quarter
CLEVELAND V. PHILADELPHIA
Lizzy Trudeaux
[Is handed the famous photo of her final shot. Perfect form. Arm extended. Wrist tipped down like the head of a swan. The ball is falling toward the hoop.]
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
[Is handed the famous photo of Lizzy’s final shot.]
Lizzy Trudeaux
To be totally honest? I don’t remember it very—
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
Man, I’ll never forget that day. Never ever ever. Aliens could come down and zap me with a ray gun and I’d still be like, Uh, the day my best friend went toe-to-toe with Sidney Rayne? And I watched from the front row? Yeah, man. I remember that.
Lizzy Trudeaux
[Sighs.] What I mean is, the memories are there . . . but I’m not sure they’re fully mine. Does that make sense? It’s like—you know how when you read a book you have an image of the characters in your head? One that’s totally yours? But then you see the movie and suddenly their faces are replaced by the actors’?
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
I think what Lizzy means is it’s like the public memory of the game—all the tweets, articles, interviews, and YouTube videos she’s seen since—has overtaken, or at least blended with, her personal—
Rick “The Wizard” Trudeaux—Lizzy’s Father
Something was a little off that day. I sensed it on the ride down. Lizzy had her big headphones on, like always, but she looked worried. I’d never seen that.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
So we get to the locker room, right, and there’s this huge mountain of sneaker boxes waiting for her. I mean, there must’ve been like two hundred boxes. Nike. Adidas. Reebok. And1. Under Armour. Every brand you can think of. It was crazy.
Alou Achebe—Bells Center
Her friend was like—
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
Dude, do you see this? It’s Christmas! Ha-ha! And she was like—
Lizzy Trudeaux
[Genuinely confused. Lifts tattered sneakers.] What’s wrong with these?
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
She was oblivious, man. [Laughs.]
Mike McCall—Bells Marketing Department
About an hour before tip-off, her friend—the big black kid with the flat-top—corners me. He’s like—
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
“Listen, dude, I need a half-dozen bottles of Wite-Out, stat.”
Mike McCall—Bells Marketing Department
And I’m like, “Wite-Out?”
Alou Achebe—Bells Center
It gave her something to do before the game, I guess, painting those sneakers, getting in the zone. No one talked to her. It was like she was meditating.
Harry Hawkins—Bells Guard
I’d never seen someone so focused, so calm.
Lizzy Trudeaux
I was freaking out. I was pretty sure everyone could tell, too.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
Lizzy got tickets for the whole middle school team. Everyone, even Coach Gulch and Tank. We were all in the front row, right behind the Bells’ bench.
Jim Gulch—Ardwyn Middle School Boys’ Basketball Coach
I leaned over to Sykes during warm-ups: “What’s wrong with Lizzy? Why isn’t she warming up?”
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
[Raises eyebrows.] Uhhhhhhh.
Jim Gulch—Ardwyn Middle School Boys’ Basketball Coach
“Why isn’t she shooting?” She was just sitting there on the bench by herself.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
And I’m like, “Everything’s fine, man! Don’t worry about it!”
Alou Achebe—Bells Center
I can still see it. [Closes eyes.] The pregame clock hits zero.
Harry Hawkins—Bells Guard
The horn sounds.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
The PA announcer leans into the microphone.
Kevin Casey—Bells PA Announcer
“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the national anthem.”
Alou Achebe—Bells Center
The singer waddles onto the court in high heels.
Tad Wexler—Bells TV Announcer
She brushes the hair from her eyes.
Mark McClaine—National TV Broadcaster
She lifts the microphone.
Jimmy Mack—Bells Head Coach
[Puts hand over heart. Lifts chin. Squints.]
Mike McCall—Bells Marketing Department
The players take the floor.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
Lizzy’s finally got a uniform that fits. Her sneakers are bright white.
Lizzy Trudeaux
Sidney Rayne, the guy from in the poster on my wall, is immediately to my left. He leans in.
Sidney Rayne—Basketball Superstar
“Good luck, rook.”
Mark McClaine—National TV Broadcaster
And out of nowhere, this fan runs onto the court.
Bill “Chalk” Rasner—Nationally Syndicated Sportswriter
He had on one of those full-body spandex suits. A green one.
Mark McClaine—National TV Broadcaster
The guy must’ve been three hundred fifty pounds.
Tad Wexler—Bells TV Announcer
The guy’s prancing around, preening, pretending to do his hair, obviously taunting Trudeaux, the only girl on the court.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
Everyone starts booing the guy.
Jim Gulch—Ardwyn Middle School Boys’ Basketball Coach
Security’s chasing him around the court. But he’s quick for a big dude.
Bill “Chalk” Rasner—Nationally Syndicated Sportswriter
And then bam, he turns right into a left cross from Jimmy Mack.
Kevin Casey—Bells PA Announcer
Eighty-year-old Jimmy Mack.
Tad Wexler—Bells TV Announcer
The guy goes down.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
Hard.
Emily Murray—Philadelphia Sports Columnist
He’s unconscious. He’s like this big green blob, a human loogie, on the court. Jimmy knocked him out cold.
Alou Achebe—Bells Center
They drag him off the court by his legs.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
Within seconds, it’s trending on Twitter. #humanloogie
Lizzy Trudeaux
There was a fan on the court?
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
See what I’m talking about, man? This girl? She’s in her own world.
Lizzy Trudeaux
I was talking to Sid. I’d had this conversation in my head a million times. I was like—
Sidney Rayne—Basketball Superstar
She told me she had a poster of me on her wall.
Lizzy Trudeaux
I told him that I looked up at that poster every night before bed and I thought, Man, Rayne’s a punk. If I could just get one shot at him . . .
Sidney Rayne—Basketball Superstar
[Laughs.] I said, “Well, here’s your shot, rook. Don’t blow it.”
Jim Gulch—Ardwyn Middle School Boys’ Basketball Coach
Sidney was laughing about something. I’m sure Lizzy was talking [trash].
Alou Achebe—Bells Center
They final get
the big green dude off the court. The horn sounds again. The ref comes forward with the ball.
Harry Hawkins—Bells Guard
The centers bend their knees, lift their arms.
Toby Sykes—Trudeaux’s Best Friend
Everyone lifts their cell phones.
Emily Murray—Philadelphia Sports Columnist
Philly won the tip. It was hard not to with Alou Achebe as your center. He could reach up and change the lights if he wanted to. We were all curious to see who would be guarding Trudeaux. We were all hoping it’d be Sidney—and it was.
Tad Wexler—Bells TV Announcer
Oh man, that first possession. She weaved through a half-dozen screens, like always, but Sidney fought through every one of them. She couldn’t shake him. He was the best pure athlete—by a long shot—that she’d ever faced.
Mark McClaine—National TV Broadcaster
Coach Mack called a time-out. He was all over the refs about Sidney’s defense. He wanted them to call a foul. He was screaming like a baseball manager who’s just charged out of the dugout. Spit was flying everywhere. The refs crossed their arms and ignored him.
Jim Gulch—Ardwyn Middle School Boys’ Basketball Coach
I actually remember what Jimmy said. He limped back to the bench, stopped, and said over his shoulder, “Hey, Tommy”—Tommy Michaels was the head ref—“hey, Tommy, I can’t get a T for what I’m thinkin’, can I?” Tommy rolled his eyes. “No, Jimmy, you can’t get a T for what you’re thinking.” And Jimmy said, “Good. Because I think you suck.” All the refs broke up laughing. That was Jimmy.
Alou Achebe—Bells Center
Lizzy was frustrated in the huddle. She looked like she was gonna punch someone. No one knew what to say, not even Coach Mack, and then out of nowhere this guy—he looked like one of those dudes you play pickup basketball against—this goofy dude behind the bench tears this piece of paper from a notebook and passes it into the huddle.
Jim Gulch—Ardwyn Middle School Boys’ Basketball Coach
I had this idea—a play—I saw it in my mind, this flash like an X-ray—so I drew it up real quick and passed it to Lizzy.
Jimmy Mack—Bells Head Coach
Yeah . . . I remember that. I nearly blew my lid. But then I seen what was on it. And I thought: Hey, that just might work!
Bill “Chalk” Rasner—Nationally Syndicated Sportswriter
Coming out of the first time-out, the Bells lined up in this bizarre formation. Alou was at the top of the key, just beyond the three-point line, and all the other guys were lined up along the sideline, like they were cheerleaders. Trudeaux started at the far foul line, opposite Alou, about sixty feet away. They inbounded to Alou, and Alou just stood there with the ball high above his head. Trudeaux got down like she was in the starting blocks and sprinted forward. Everyone held their breath as she got closer and closer. Just before impact, Alou lowered the ball. She took it like a handoff and went straight through his legs. [Laughs.] Sidney was too big, of course. He had to slide around. Lizzy came out the other side and was wide open. She jumped to shoot—
Lizzy Legend Page 11