Page 24 of On Merit Alone
I was an athlete on most days. I liked to think I would have caught myself, but there was no need. Strong hands caught onto my shoulders and steadied me easily. A familiar laugh accompanied the assistance.
“Easy, Six,” Ira said. My senses went on high alert.Easy, Six.
“Don’t scare me like that.” I pushed him away from me in whatI hoped to be a playful nudge. He continued to laugh, his stance casual.
I frowned up at him. He was such a weirdo, I was coming to realize. How could someone be so laid back abouteverything?
Noticing my frown, he sobered and raised his hands in immediate surrender. He was always surrendering first, yet such a competitor. “What? Okay, in my defense, I called your name like six times on the way over here,” he said.
“And when I didn’t answer, you decided scaring the life out of me would be your next best option?” I asked.
“I didn’t think you werethatzoned out,” he chuffed. “What were you even doing? I know I’ve been gone for a while, but surely you have other people to follow around when I’m not here.”
Rolling my eyes, I moved to retrieve my ball. “What are you doing here, Ira?”
“I came for compensation,” he said. “Your good luck didn’t do shit.”
“That bad?” I asked.
“You didn’t watch?” he asked back.
I hitched a shoulder. “I did, but you know how it is. There’s always more to the story than just the final score.”
Instead of coming back with an immediate quip like he usually did, he paused for a second, hitching his own shoulders. “Yeah, well.”
And that’s all he said.
I nodded, totally understanding. The Defenders had lost both games on the road to start the final round against Texas in the championship. It was a rough way to begin, even for this team, who had spent the entire tournament pulling off record-breaking wins. It was always rough to start out behind. Trust me, I knew. I think my grimace said as much. “That bad, huh?”
“Yup,” he said, the word trailing off lamely.
I don’t know why, but something like irritation or annoyanceseemed to peek through his evasive tone. Like he’d rather be talking about anything else. I knew it wasn’t about me, though. I could tell. He just hated losing, plain and simple. I understood. Which is why, as I swooped up my rogue ball, I turned right around and passed it to him.
“Wanna play some?” I asked.
He smiled.
And just like that, he was back. Simple, easy, predictable. Like me, when basketball was involved, he seemed all in.
“Actually,” he said, walking toward me as he met me half-court and dribbled absently. “I want to run something with you.”
I paused, my eyebrows climbing my face of their own accord. “Oh?”
“Yeah, line up with me,” he said, pointing at the free throw line. I did. Looking at me from across the court, he continued, “Alright, I'm gonna drive. You defend.”
“Okay.” I had no idea where this was going, but I couldn’t help the excitement that wormed through me at the prospect of it. Other than official team practices, I normally had no one to run drills with. Now, here was Ira out of nowhere, willing to jump in and play with me.
Giving me the ball, I passed it into play for him and that easily, Ira King was coming at me full speed. Letting muscle memory take over for me, I got low, taking a stance I’d known almost my entire life and attempting to guard him as he charged toward the basket.
I guarded. And much like usual lately, going right felt fine, but moving left on my injured side was… off. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t tweak, it wasn’t even bothering me. It just wasn’t the same. I tried to push through it, but what seemed like way too easily, Ira pushed past me on my left side and moved into the basket to execute a layup.
Damn. I screwed my mouth to the side as I watched him make his way back.
Dropping the ball into my hands, he asked, “How’d that feel?”
“Shitty,” I answered. “Why?”
He clicked his tongue and shook his head as he got into the opposite position from before, taking my place. “Not yet. Now you drive this time.”
