Page 74 of Game On

When I make my way out there again, it’s more of the same. I have fifteen points, two rebounds, and three assists in the second half. Counting my stats is a habit I’m going to have to stop. The coaches keep track of all that, but I like to know for me.

After I attempt my fourth three-pointer and get fouled, the opposing team’s big man follows me on my way to the foul line. One of their players says, “Sounds like you’re the school’s favorite player.”

I don’t even engage, but that doesn’t stop them from talking.

“Are you really a skank?” another asks, his brows furrowed.

I know they’re just pissed they’re getting their asses handed to them by a girl. The guy who’s guarding me is frustrated and his teammates are, in turn, getting frustrated with him.

The referee bounces the ball to me. I dribble three times and then jump for the shot. The ball goes in. I can hear my dad yell for me in the background. I try to tune him out. I shouldn’t be hearing what anyone is saying right now.

When I turn back toward the foul line to take the next shot, all the guys are staring into the stands. I follow their gazes even though I tell myself not to. I know it’s headed right where the Baller Bitches sit. When I see what’s gotten everyone’s attention, though, I freeze. Rhonda Kyle is wearing a crown with blue panties stretched over the top. The crown says Baller Skank. She’s loving all the attention she’s getting. She laughs and then steps out onto the court stairs. She takes the crown off her head and throws it. The crown hits the court and skids. As it gets closer, my heart stops. Those panties are mine. I blink, not believing what I’m seeing, but I’m not wrong. Those are the panties I left at Sloan’s house when his mom almost caught us on the air hockey table.

My gaze flicks to his. His mouth is wide open.

Rhonda puts her hand around her mouth, “You suck, Skank!”

The referee blows his whistle. He then walks up to Coach, pointing in the stands. The guys on the opposing team all laugh. The ref though, is furious. “It’s been like this every freaking game here. Is someone going to do something about these unruly kids?”

Coach’s jaw ticks. My dad comes up behind them, his face a mask of fury. I turn away.Oh, fuck.

When I turn, I stare right into Hayes Irving’s chest. “Don’t look,” he says. The other guys huddle around me now, but it doesn’t matter. I’m so attuned to what’s going on out there that I can’t stop from hearing anything. Rhonda’s getting kicked out as well as the other Baller Bitches. They’re allowed to say whatever they want, but throwing something onto the court in the middle of a game is a no-no.

Then, I hear one of the guys on the other team say, “Wait, is that her dad picking up the crown?” Then, he laughs hysterically.

I cringe and look up to find Sloan. He’s staring down at the court. Not one of the Ballers can meet my eyes except Ryan. His eyes are challenging. I stare right back at him. If he thinks I brought this on myself, he’s wrong.

Finally, the referee walks back onto the court and blows his whistle. The commotion is gone, but it’s still in my head. It’s with every thump of my heart. He throws the ball to me. I dribble three times and shoot. Miraculously, it goes in the basket, but that’s muscle memory. I’ve had this ingrained in me since I was a little girl.

However, I’m sure when my dad started teaching me how to play the game, he never imagined a moment like this.

36

Despite playing a decent second half, my first ever start will always be tainted by what happened. My parents meet me at the buzzer and want to take me straight home, but Coach orders everyone to the locker room. I trudge in, head low. Immediately, Coach throws his clipboard. It rips through the air and slams into the royal blue lockers. “I am absolutely disgusted! To those of you who are laughing, who think this is funny, shame on you. Do you even understand how bad wealllooked out there? Not just Tessa. Not at all. If anything, she looked the most heroic out of the bunch.”

“It’s not our fault,” someone says. “We didn’t do it.”

I sit on a bench and lean my head back against the lockers. Hard footsteps sound. I peek over and find Coach in Gary’s face. “Didn’t do it? No, but I see you guys snickering. You think it’s all a fucking game. Have I not taught you anything about teamwork? You think I don’t know this shit happens to her at school, too? I have eyes and ears.”

“This wouldn’t even be happening if we didn’t let a girl on the team,” Lake says. He’s sitting lazily on the bench seat, his hair still perfect, his jersey dry.

“What we did, O’Brien, was allow a hell of a good shooting guard on the team. The end. Period.”

He bypasses that comment. “Doesn’t it matter that everyone else is laughing at us? That’s the embarrassing part.”

“Spoken like someone who’s nose is broke because he didn’t start. Might I remind you that it was one fucking game.”

Coach turns away, but Lake whispers, “It’s still bullshit.”

Ryan stands. I watch, leery. His eyes land on every single one of us. “We played a good game. Teamwork needs a re-focus, but it was good.”

Really? Those are his words after the game. I shake my head and look away.

“I want everyone out of here except for Tessa,” Coach says.

“But what about—” someone starts to ask.

“Out!”

---