Page 7 of The Perfect Steal

I heard the irritation there and knew Colt’s dad had hopes for him to go to college and make something of himself instead of working in one of the factories just outside of town like he had for the past twenty-plus years.

“True.” I thought about it for a second and went back to my thought train. “I got paired up with Brynn in my new Life Skills class.”

Colt grinned. “Brynn Miller? Good luck with that one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you’re whining about a tougher class schedule, getting paired up with her will be intense. She’s going to make you do the work.” The way he said it hit me in the chest, a little ping reminding me that even my best friend had only a small idea about all the years of studying and test-taking I’d done in the past. It was best to stay that way.

Swallowing my pride, I said, “I think I’m up for the task. And I’d rather work with her than some other random girl.”

Colt slapped my chest with the back of his hand. “I think the two of you paired up is the best option. She can get you to do your homework, and you can help her learn to have more fun.”

“What? You’ve talked to her more than just the few times we’ve hung out?” I hadn’t gleaned that much from those encounters.

Scratching the back of his neck and averting his eyes, Colt said, “Hazel might have mentioned that a bit.”

“Of course,” I said. Hazel had been the new girl at the beginning of the school year, but it seemed Colt had a major crush on the girl. The only thing helping me was that she seemed oblivious to it.

My headache became more intense, even after the medicine Brynn had given me. Had it worn off that quickly?

“I’m going to head out,” I said, nodding to him. “My bed is calling my name.”

“Sounds good. Rest up. We need you for the tournament this weekend.”

On my way out to the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of Brynn. Was I intrigued by her because she’d basically shot me down? I’d have to figure that out.

4

Brynn

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the hem of my t-shirt Friday afternoon, grateful for a drink break. It was the second day of tryouts, what we usually termed as “death day” for the amount of running Coach put us through. I was already worn out, and we hadn’t even gotten to conditioning yet.

Tryouts had started off the day before at a medium level of difficulty and only progressed from there. Coach Adams had worked us hard for the past hour and a half, but the worst part was just about to start. I knew conditioning was good for me, and I had to like it if just for the fact that I knew it would help me get through those final minutes of the important games. I still dreaded it, though.

“What’s the guess on what Coach will torture us with today?” Stephanie Hendricks, our starting senior point guard, asked. She grabbed a drink and walked next to me back into the gym.

We’d already done a lot of running and drills throughout the time, but Coach Adams loved to end with a killer lung-burning type of conditioning.

“Let’s just hope it isn’t timed,” I said, leaning up against the wall. At least she was sweating as much as I was.

A minute or two later, most of the girls had come back from getting a drink and Coach Adams blew his whistle. Someday I was going to break that thing.

“On the line under the basket, in pairs.”

I stepped past the blue line on the basketball court, my heart racing and every part of my stomach tied in some kind of knot. But that was completely normal. This always happened before conditioning and the start of every game. Once I got out on the court and the tip-off was over, I could settle down and play my game.

“First line will go and then the next. We’re doing Brownies today, ladies.”

An audible groan went through the crowd, with confusion on the faces of the girls who didn’t quite understand.

I shook my head, my stomach dropping as I realized we were in the small gym. “Of course, we would have to do this with all the lines.”

Brownies were the worst punishment ever created. They were not the delicious chocolate dessert, but instead, the bane of my existence. Why did we have to do those today? He usually reserved the epic torture for a few practices before our biggest rivals.

“What are Brownies?” one of the girls next to me asked.

“It’s a ladder, where you run and touch the line and come back, then move on to the next one. But since we’re in the small gym, we have to touch every line here,” Josie Star, another senior guard, said.

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