The Profile Match

by Jill Williamson

I didn’t do much dancing. Dancing was not my favorite. I did take one turn about the floor with Grace, but only after I had first danced with Arianna, Kaitlyn, and Samantha.

  Didn’t want her getting any ideas.

  Mary found me alone at the table while everyone was bopping to some new T Swift song. She was wearing a dark red satin dress that went to the floor but had a lot of folds in the skirt. Not pleats, but wavy folds. She looked like a princess.

  “You’re really going to dance with everyone but me?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Didn’t want to push my luck.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Boys.” She pulled out the chair beside mine and sat down. Her hair was mostly up, with loose curls falling all over on purpose, I thought. “You okay?” she asked, nodding toward Grace, who was dancing with Dan.

  “Sure,” I said, then narrowed my eyes. “I’m not getting back together with her, am I?”

  “Not . . .” She closed her mouth, then said, “No more spoilers from me, Spencer. From now on, you’re going to have to wait and see what happens.” She patted my hand, then got up and started to walk away.

  I grabbed her hand. “Hey.”

  She turned, her dress sweeping around her legs, and studied me. “Yes?”

  “How about that dance?”

  She twisted her lips and motioned over her shoulder with her free hand. “My date is waiting.”

  I glanced behind her and saw Luke Williamson standing there, watching us. “El McWilly?”

  “His name is Luke.”

  “You’re not going to marry him.”

  “I’m not marrying anyone today. You and me, we’ll dance another time, okay?” She squeezed my hand and pulled away.

  “Okay,” I said, watching her go.

  A few songs later, they called up the prom court, and I had to pose for a ton of pictures. Then they announced the king and queen, and guess what?

  I won.

  And so did Trella the Troll.

  In all honesty, she didn’t look so trollish tonight, but then we had to dance together, and she actually said she felt like she was dancing with King Kong.

  Then, after our royal dance, we had to pose for pictures in our crowns, and the camera guy didn’t like our height difference.

  “I can’t get your head in the shot without zooming out,” he said. “And then we see the cafeteria walls.”

  “Maybe you should kneel,” Trella told me.

  “I’m the king,” I said. “I’m not kneeling.”

  “Not even for your queen?”

  “Especially not for my queen.” Because it was Trella. Enough said.

  “I could find a chair and sit on your lap,” she said.

  Again, I vetoed.

  The photographer finally came up with a fix. Since the picture display was a little bridge the couples were supposed to stand on, he had me stand beside the bridge, in the “stream,” which was made of blue butcher paper and was a foot and a half lower than the bridge.

  Cheese.

  After that I went back to my friends. They all wanted a group picture, so I ended up in the stream again, but this time I was surrounded by friends.

  “You know why you won, don’t you?” Arianna asked.

  “You rigged the votes?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, Spencer. It’s because you’re more than a basketball player. You’re nice to everyone. The jocks, the bookworms, the preppies, the science geeks, the gamers, the nerds, the musicians, the stoners . . . They all voted for you. The others only had the popular kids to vote for them.”

  “Just call me king of the nerds,” I said.

  “King of the school, Spencer,” Arianna said. “You proved that a person doesn’t have to be defined by one label.”

  “I’m sorry the vote didn’t go the same for the girls,” I said. “It should have been you, Arianna. A hundred times over Trella.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. But she beamed.

  REPORT NUMBER: 36

  REPORT TITLE: Where the Dream that I Wished Does Come True

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Grandma Alice’s House, Pilot Point, California, USA

  DATE AND TIME: Monday, May 20, 4:21 p.m.

  Monday after school Grandma had me addressing a million graduation announcements. I didn’t even know half these people. I messed up the numbers on one of the addresses and scribbled it out before thinking it through. I dropped the pen and sat back, distracted. Grandma had gotten on my case to be careful with these, but I was too busy thinking about the decision I had to make by this Wednesday. Coach had worked hard to get me last minute offers from a couple D-2 schools. Azusa Pacific and Point Loma.

  Both were offering a full ride. Both were decent Cinderella schools that played some D-1 schools and had made the NCAA tournament before. They weren’t bad options at all. Something had me hesitating, though. I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I was trying to wait and pray until a clear answer came. Or the deadline. Whichever came first.

  Mr. S had asked me about my college plans that afternoon, so I’d told him what had been going on. “I’d been holding out for anything from a D-1 school, but I guess this is what a closed door looks like,” I’d told him.

  Then he’d shot me one of his quotes. “ ‘When one door closes another door opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the ones which open for us.’ ”

  “Who said that?” I’d asked.

  “Alexander Graham Bell.”

  “The telephone guy?”

  He’d smiled. “That’s right. The telephone guy.”

  As if sensing what I’d been thinking, my phone rang. It was a California number—one I didn’t recognize. I’d been getting a lot of spam calls lately and moved my finger to decline the call, yet for some reason I answered it.

  “Yeah?” Ten bucks said it was Kyle with free trip to Maui.

  “Is this Spencer Garmond from Pilot Point Christian School?” a man asked.

  Okay, not a recording. “Yeah. This is Spencer.”

  “My name is Tyus Edney. I’m a recruiting coach for the UCLA Bruins basketball team.”

  My mind went blank. And my heart might have stopped.

  “Spencer? Are you there?” Edney said.

  “Yes! I’m here.”

  “Well, I just happen to be up in Pilot Point visiting my nephew and wondered if you might have a few minutes to chat? I could come by your house. Or I could meet you somewhere, if you prefer.”

  Tyus Edney come to my house? “I’m home if you want to stop by,” I said, then gave him my address.

  “Great. I’ll see you in about ten minutes.” He hung up.

  I jumped into high gear. I tidied the living room, changed my Lakers’ shirt to a Bruins one, combed my hair, put on some deodorant, and straightened the John Wayne picture on the Wall of Fame.

  He still hadn’t come.

  Longest. Ten. Minutes. Ever.

  So I prayed. Somewhere during the prayer, I got distracted at the sound of a car and wondered if it was Edney. I got up and looked. It wasn’t. I started my prayer over and tried hard to focus, but I ended up pacing the living room, tossing my basketball from hand to hand.

  Until I saw a silver Lexus pulling into Grandma’s driveway.

  I put down the ball and went back to addressing invitations until the doorbell rang. I tried not to run to open it.

  Tyus Edney had spent the last eight years with the Bruins. He played for them too, back in the early 90s—had an incredible college career as a point guard, helping lead them to an NCAA Championship in 1995.

  As he extended his hand, I noticed he wasn’t wearing his championship ring.

  “Nice to meet you, Spencer,” he said.

  “You too, sir,” I said. “It’s an honor.”

  “Nice shirt,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  We just stood there, looking at each other. My manners finally kicked
in. “Would you like to sit?” I gestured to the couch, the chairs. “I could get you something to drink. I think we have orange juice and some iced tea. Milk.”

  Tyus Edney took a seat in the middle of the couch. “No thanks, I’m good. I see you’re addressing graduation announcements. My mom made me do the same thing when I graduated from high school.”

  “Long Beach Poly,” I said, perching on the edge of Grandma’s chair.

  “That’s right. It was a long time ago. Goes by fast. You made any decisions about college yet? I heard what happened with Arizona State.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to pretend my hands weren’t shaking. “I haven’t decided. I’ve been accepted into UCLA and was thinking I might take some classes there, even if I can’t play. But then Coach worked up some offers from Point Loma and Azusa, so I’m trying to decide what to do.”

  “When you got to let them know?” he asked.

  “Wednesday.”

  He grinned. “Then I’m cutting it kind of close, aren’t I?”

  “Are you?” I asked.

  This time he chuckled. “What do you feel is your role on a basketball team?”

  “To do what the coaches ask of me. If they ask me to play defense, then I’m going to play defense. If they ask me to score, then I’m going to do my best to score. I’m all about trying to make my team better. I’m not interested in proving myself or making any statements.”

  “It’s not about you. It’s about the team. That what you mean?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You don’t have any goals of your own?”

  “Sure I do. I want to help my team become the best it can be. And I want to do well in school and graduate.”

  “You picked a major?”

  “Computer science with a minor in linguistics.”

  “What you hope to do with that? Law enforcement?”

  “C.I.A.,” I said.

  His eyes bulged. “That’s ambitious.”

  I shrugged. “There’s a lot of bad guys out there. I’d like to help bring them down.”

  “You sound pretty determined.”

  He had no idea. “Yeah. I’m actually going on two trips to Venezuela this summer. One is to work with an organization that’s helping fight human trafficking.”

  “You’re a brave man,” he said.

  That sobered me. “Everyone deserves to be free,” I said. “If I can help make that happen, I will.”

  “I’ve been watching you this season. We all have. Our whole coaching staff.”

  Oh, mama. I fought back a whimper. “I didn’t know.”

  “That’s how I like it. Less pressure that way. I was impressed how you helped your team after your injury last spring—despite what you went through.”

  “I made some bad choices.”

  “We all do that. But not everyone learns from them. You did. Your YouTube channel is an inspiration. And you came back this year and led your team to a state championship. I like players who have character. Players who know what it means to work hard. Who’ll make the team their highest priority.”

  “Wouldn’t everyone, sir?”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised. Some of these boys have been told all their life that they’re going to play pro ball. They believe they’re entitled to it, Spencer. Think they deserve it. Those types of players hurt teams. Know why?”

  “They make it all about them.”

  “That’s it exactly. They don’t know the definition of the word team. You do. I’ve seen it.

  I didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, sir.”

  “We’ve had a few surprises in the past couple weeks. An unfortunate injury, a last-minute NBA draft, and one of our incoming freshmen took another offer. We feel strongly that the injured player will recover in time for next season, but it will leave a hole in our practice lineup—especially since the other two were also shooting guards. We need an outside shooter to take that scholarship, Spencer, and your name is at the top of our list.”

  I grabbed my head and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. It morphed into a dry laugh. “No joke? Is this an offer?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I couldn’t help it. I cried. It was only for three seconds, I promise. I quickly wiped the tears away and grinned wider than my face. “I would love to play for UCLA,” I managed to say. “You guys have always been my first choice.”

  Another chuckle. “I’m glad to hear that, Spencer. Very glad.” He pulled out his card and handed it to me. “Think you and your grandma could come down to the Pavilion tomorrow after school, say, 3:00?”

  “Yes, we can.” She’d find a sub.

  “Excellent.” He stood up, extended his hand again.

  I jumped up and shook it. “Thank you, sir. I’m so excited about this.”

  “So am I, Spencer. It’s going to be good.”

  Tyus Edney left. And the moment his car rolled away, I ran through the house, whooping with my fists in the air.

  I was going to play ball for UCLA.

  God was so good to me. He really was.

  ● ● ●

  The next day, Grandma and I went down to Pauley Pavilion, and I signed an offer letter to play basketball for the UCLA Bruins. Sue Adams called the next day for a statement. I handed the phone to Grandma.

  A week and a half later, I graduated from high school. My dad was there, sitting with Grandma. He’d been cleared of all charges and had rented an apartment in town. Director Moreland was going to give him a job but hadn’t decided where to use him yet.

  Kimbal was in the hospital, under guard. As soon as he was better, he’d be arraigned on several charges, including conspiracy to murder Lisa Halvorsen.

  I’d be going to Venezuela in a week with the Pilot Point Mission League and had signed up for that extra two weeks to work with Isabel and the human trafficking ministry there. After the horrors I’d seen in Phnom Penh, I was more than happy to help rescue people from such a prison.

  The Saturday afternoon before we left for Venezuela, Kip and I met in Alameda Park to shoot hoops. He might not be the greatest friend, but I still cared about him. And I figured, as long as we met in public places, things would work out fine.

  While we were playing, C-Rock and some of his guys from his local gang showed up. It had been years since I’d seen him—I’d been trying to steer clear—but here he was, in all his gangsta glory.

  “Hey, Rojo,” C-Rock said. “I know I told you not to play ball in King’s Coats territory.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said. “Turns out it’s a free country and a public park.”

  He approached me with that swagger of his. “That so?”

  I spun my ball on my finger, keeping an eye on his gang, who were keeping an eye on me. “Sure is.”

  C-Rock put a hand on his hip and slouched. “I hear you gonna play for UCLA.”

  “That’s right.”

  “He got a full scholarship,” Kip added.

  C-Rock scratched his soul patch. “You going to live down there? Join a frat or some white-boy thing?”

  “I’m not going to join any fraternities, no, but I’m going to live in the dorms to save on gas. I’ll be down there a lot for classes and practices.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. I guess that piece-of-junk car of yours wouldn’t last so long if you was driving back and forth all the time.”

  “Probably not,” I said.

  “A couple years,” Kip said, “when the endorsement deals start rolling in, he’ll be driving a Corvette.”

  “A yellow one,” I said, grinning.

  C-Rok ran a hand over his hair and palmed the back on his neck. “Hey, man. You think you could get me and Paco into a game down there sometime?”

  Paco was C-Rock’s little brother. Kip and I had been friends with him back in middle school. “Yeah, I could probably work something out.”

  C-Rok grinned, a happy expression that I’d never seen on the guy all the years I’d known him. “Then pass the ball, R
ojo,” he said. “I’m falling asleep waiting for you to start this game.”

  I passed the ball and got ready to play.

  THE END

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  I wrote a few stories as a child. I also started a novel in high school, but I never wanted to be an author. Back then, I was consumed with my dream of becoming a fashion designer. It wasn’t until after I had left the fashion industry and started writing, that I met Spencer.

  The year was 2004. In my new quest to become a novelist, Spencer Garmond was the first character I ever created. It took me four years to learn how to write fiction. The first book I sold in 2008 was the sixth book I finished. (It was called By Darkness Hid.) The New Recruit would not be published until 2012. By then, Spencer had been with me for eight long years, and I was eager to see his story in print. But with other book contracted, other stories to be written, and life to be lived, I had to squeeze in Spencer’s books where I could. Now here I am fourteen years later finally finishing his tale.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about Spencer as much as I have enjoyed writing about him. Thanks, readers, for all your emails, fan art, encouragement, prayers, and support over the years. This book was for you.

  Jill

  Will you help?

  Thanks for reading The Profile Match! Will you please leave a review?

  If you loved this book, please write a book review and post it on Amazon and/or Goodreads. I’ve love to know what you thought of the end of this series, and other readers will too. Online book reviews are so important to the success of a book and its author because they help others decide what to read next. Thanks for your help!

  Please review The Profile Match here: http://jillwilliamson.com/review-the-profile-match

  The Mission League series

  The New Recruit, book 1

  Chokepoint, mini-mission 1.5

  Project Gemini, book 2

  Ambushed, mini-mission 2.5

  Broken Trust, book 3

  The Profile Match, book 4

  Join the Club

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