Page 1 of Foul Line

1

Bigger. Badder. Better.That’s my motto.

The wind whips my ponytail as I dribble the ball between my legs. Surprisingly enough, the fresh summer heat is held at bay for the moment. I dribble twice more, stop, then jump. Pulling up for the shot in my backyard, I imagine the scene from the Championship game, except instead of Ryan Linc running down the court to score the winning shot, it’s me. I’m the one who has the ball with a couple of seconds left. I pull up way outside the three-point line, arc the ball beautifully through the air, and watch as it swishes through the net.

Iwin the game.

Bigger. Badder. Better.I’m taking them out. Right where it hurts.

The last book we read in English before school let out wasThe Count of Monte Cristo. That entire book is about this guy enacting revenge on the people who wronged him. I smiled my way through the pages of that book from beginning to end, word after word. I went to Alec’s regular season baseball games, sat my ass just outside the Baller box without even being asked, and dreamed of camp. I made a vow to myself at the Championship game that their asses would be mine, and I meant it. I’m playing during Championships my senior year. They’ll be hikingmeon their shoulders, they’ll be screamingmyname.

I just have to figure out how to get from here to there.

Camp is my shot. They’re still the Ballers there, but no one gives a shit that they’re the kings of Rockport High. No one thinks we’re special because we wear blue and gold. Everyone else has pride in their school too. At camp, it won’t be the entire school—including the Baller Bitches—against me. The playing field is even.

It’s my chance.

I grab the rebound and place it back on the basketball rack. Under the basket, my phone chirps, alerting me of an incoming text. Pulling my shirt up to wipe away the sweat dotting my forehead, I head toward it. Smiling, I read the text Dawn just sent.I can’t believe you’re spending your last night before camp with Ryan Linc instead of me. Me! Your friend! Your only friend, I might add.

Dawn thinks I’m crazy for even wanting to go to camp this year, which makes me think she doesn’t completely understand the whole basketball thing. Don’t get me wrong, she’s as pissed as she should be. Every time we pass the Ballers in school, she gives them shit. They give it right back to her, but Dawn isn’t one to back down. If they so much as look at me, she gets in their faces. To be honest, she’s the ideal best friend. Hanging out with her makes me wonder why the hell I was even friends with Tiff to begin with.

Before I can even respond, another text comes through.Wear something slutty. Make him pay.

I’m not sure what that would be making him pay for. Sure, he told me he actually did like me all those years ago. Even recently, I might have felt like there was something there. But the minute they turned their backs on me that day at Ryan’s house, they made their feelings clear. Nothing comes between the Ballers and basketball, and nothing comes between the Ballers themselves. Dawn thinks the best way to exact my revenge is to systematically work my way back into their lives and destroy them, much like the Count did.

I tap out a response. She knows I’d much rather be spending tonight with her…or my mom, but Dad’s insistent on me showing up for dinner at the Linc house. He wants me to play nice with his new family. I know he’s grasping at straws since I haven’t contacted him much after the night I found out he secured the WNBA scout to show up to my game. I don’t want favors from him. I don’t care that he was looking out for me, I thought we had the unspoken rule that he would never use his influence to get something for me. Especially something like that. It doesn’t matter that I deserved the start, it’s forever tainted now.

I want my actions to speak for themselves. Hence my motto:Bigger. Badder. Better.

I drag the basketball rack into the garage, then go out the front, letting the garage bay door close behind me. A figure at the mouth of the driveway grabs my attention, and I stop. I know who it is, I just don’t know why. Ever since school ended, Hayes “Ice Man” Irving has had a love affair with my driveway. He never comes up to the house. He certainly doesn’t say anything. If I happen to be leaving or coming home, he doesn’t even look at me. He just stands there, his bike parked next to the big TD hanging from the stone pillar that frames the blacktop.

Oddly enough, I don’t find it stalkerish at all. As far as I’m concerned, Hayes has the least to atone for. I’ve briefly thought about using him to get back at the other Ballers, but that’s as far as my ruminations go. How to go about doing that is another step all together. Today, though, I’m curious. With as much as the Ballers talk, he must know I’m going to Ryan’s house tonight. Is there a reason he’s here today of all days? It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen any Baller but him. Two weeks of bully-less bliss. No one calling me a Baller Skank. No one sneering at me in the halls. If I said I wasn’t nervous about tonight, I’d be lying my ass off. Ryan Linc…in close quarters…with our parents. It’s a recipe for disaster.

With a deep breath, I take off for the driveway, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Hayes sees me coming and leans against the stone, his back hitting the big, carved TD for Timothy Dale. I asked my mom to get it removed, but she told me to think of it as saying Tessa Dale and left it at that. I think she’s having a hard time believing Dad isn’t coming back. The first thing I would do if I was her is get rid of his stamp on the house.

“Hey,” I say, once I get to the mouth of the driveway. When I look at him, I realize I’ve been hoping all this time that he’s an ally. That’s why I haven’t seen him as a stalker or asked him to leave because he wasn’t wanted. No, I’velikedhim here, which sends a solid brick of cement to the bottom of my stomach. It’s not supposed to be like this.

He looks over at me slowly, taking in my cropped tank top and basketball shorts that I roll at the waist. He nods, then stares across the street to the valley below. The roads up here switchback up the mountain, so all we can see for miles and miles is the tops of other people’s houses that level out into the small town of Rockport.

I lean against the stone pillar on the other side of the driveway, but angle toward him. His chest rises and lowers evenly under a Nike shirt. He’s wearing a pair of plain black athletic shorts, basketball sneakers and cropped socks. He’s a poster child for high school jocks. He’s got the long legs, the height, and the looks. Even though he towers over most people, he’s not clumsy or all limbs either. He’s a force. The fact that he barely talks doesn’t take away from his presence. When Hayes is around, you know it.

I bite my lip. I don’t know what I expected to happen after I tried to talk to him, but words never come easily for Hayes. Was it Sloan who told me Hayes had a thing for me? How could anyone tell? He’s impenetrable, like a towering stone fortress. Ice Man is an apt nickname for him. “You’ve been here a lot,” I say, watching my words slide over him. Despite that I know he’s heard me, he doesn’t react. I tilt my head back against the stone and let my thoughts spill out like Hayes cares. “I’m going to Ryan’s tonight. My dad wants to have this stupid dinner with him and his mom before camp. Almost like a farewell dinner, I guess. Apparently, it was Ryan’s mother’s idea. I’m not sure why I’m being dragged into it. I’ll see my dad while at camp like usual. He was pretty insistent on me coming though.”

Not expecting him to respond, I start as his deep voice coaxes out of him. “You think it’s because things are getting serious between them?”

Lowering my gaze, I catch him side-eyeing me, so I look away, back up to the cloudless sky. I’ve thought about this a lot. One of the reasons I’m nervous about the dinner is that I hope they don’t make this big proclamation of love for one another while I’m there. I hope it’s just that Dad feels guilty we haven’t seen each other in a while. “I don’t know,” I tell Hayes honestly. “Is it wrong to hope they’re not?”

“No,” he says immediately.

I glance back over at him again. He’s still not looking at me. The wind is catching his dirty blond hair the color of caramel and tracking it over his forehead. My lips buzz with the need to ask him what he’s doing out here, what he’s been doing out here since school ended, but something holds me back. Maybe I just like the fact that I can make up my own reasons in my head. I’m going with the fact that he feels like he’s helping. Maybe he doesn’t want me to be alone. Maybe he feels better being close to me. I push away the idea that the Ballers are asking him to do this. It’s a valid reason for him being here, but I just don’t think so. I’m going to see them all tomorrow. I haven’t had any Warrior basketball responsibilities since school ended. There’s no reason for him to be standing out here unless he wants to be.

And I don’t know how to feel about him wanting to be.

“I’m going to be leaving soon,” I tell him.

“I know.” His gaze tracks over the landscape before us like he’s perfectly content.

“Are you going to still be here?”

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