Page 16 of XOXO, Valentina

“Gabriella, what’s wrong?”

I bolted out the door without answering and flew down the stairs as fast as my injured knee would allow. I wasn’t Gabriella nor my sexy alter ego, Valentina. I was Gabi. I was safe, responsible, predictable, Gabi, and I should have fired Fernando Morales a week ago.

8

Chapter 7

Gabi

The bleachers trembled as we stomped our feet, cheering in one loud voice echoing all the way to Main Street three blocks away. Only two minutes remained in the championship basketball game, and Mossy Oak was down by six points. Our best player, a senior headed to UNC Chapel Hill, fouled out, and they brought Shane off the bench.

“Go, Shane!” my mom yelled so loudly in my ear I thought my eardrum would split.

“Drop the hammer, Shane!” my dad yelled in my other ear.

My parents were the two loudest people on Earth, and I was trapped between them.

“Go!”Mom screamed at the top of her lungs and clutched my arm.

I winced when her fingers dug into my injured elbow. “Ow! Mom, watch out.”

My dad stomped the bleachers hard enough to make them shake. “Kill them, Shane! Bury the bastards!”

I elbowed my dad in the ribs. “Dad!”

He glanced down at me, his eyes shining with pride. “What?”

“It’s a high school game, not a battlefield.”

He pretended not to hear me and raised his fist in the air. “Drop the hammer, boy!”

“It’s not just a game,” my mom said. “It’s THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME!” Her voice boomed louder with each syllable until it could shatter glass.

The winner of this game went on to compete in the North Carolina state championship game in Charlotte next week. This was the biggest game of Shane’s life. He’d barely touched the ball all season. As the youngest member of an all-conference team, Shane hadn’t had many opportunities to play.

Now was his chance to shine.

Harding High had the ball and was trying to run as much time off the clock as possible. My focus was trained on Shane while he guarded the kid with the ball. Tension hung thick in the air as the boy stepped back to shoot a three-pointer. Shane jumped up as the boy shot the ball, slapping the shot wide. The crowd went wild as the Mossy Oak guard grabbed the ball and sprinted down the court. The center dashed under the goal and positioned himself perfectly to catch it and slam an easy dunk, which tightened the score to a four-point spread.

The bleachers shook again when my dad jumped up and down beside me. I was so nervous, I could hardly watch when Harding took possession again. I glanced around at the other spectators, feeling a sense of community. We were all in this together, holding our breath, biting our nails, cheering our hearts out for our teams.

Then I saw him. Mr. Morales was standing a few rows over, cupping his hands to his mouth as he yelled at the court. He wore jeans and a green-and-gold Mossy Oak T-shirt. The T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders and clung to his biceps, and the jeans did wonderful things for his butt.

“Yes!”Mom screamed in my ear.

“Air ball!” Dad yelled.

I tore my eyes from Mr. Morales’s butt and looked at the court. Mossy Oak had the ball again. They passed. They shot. They scored. We were two points away from tying the game, with only thirty seconds left on the clock.

Harding had the ball again, but I couldn’t watch. It was too nerve-wracking. My eyes strayed to Mr. Morales again, and this time, he happened to be looking right at me. Our eyes met and held over the cheering crowd. He nodded his chin at me and smiled brightly. I remembered how he’d taken care of me after my fall, how gentle he’d been, and how easy things had been between us until I spotted Kaitlyn’s swimsuit top.

Annoyed, I jerked my attention back to the court in time to see Mossy Oak get another steal.

With twenty seconds left, the team bounded down the court and set up for the final shot. Shane hustled down to the far edge of the court, and my heart-beat kicked up speed. He’d spent hours shooting from his spot. It was exactly where he needed to be to make a three-pointer to win the game. But would his teammates trust he could do it? He was the youngest kid on the team. The only freshman.

The clock ticked and his teammates passed the ball back and forth, running out of options. Finally, one of them saw Shane was open and threw him the ball. He set his feet behind the three-point line, squared up to the net, and released it.

The ball soared in a perfect arc, hanging in the air for an ungodly long time before swishing through the net.

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