Page 4 of Who's Saving You
I walk the tunnel, banging on the pic of the Warriors asI make my way to the stage. Once there, I hold up my jersey, and the crowd is roaring, but all I hear is static. I’m smiling for the cameras, but I don’t feel it.
I’m grateful.
But I’m also waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me.
Soba’s already in New York. I’m heading South.
And Loving’s still in that damn chair.
~~
Soba and I stand together as Nico walks back into the room wearing his Houston Drillers jersey. He went 11th pick, and as I stand here with the three of them, I can’t help but feel all the things. Relief, gratitude, excitement, and a bit of anger because I don’t know how we ended up like this.
“I guess we’re not the Trickie Nickies anymore,” Soba says.
I shake my head. “Of course we are.”
Loving adds, “Always a trio,” as he throws up three fingers, spreading them apart, then pressing them together, symbolizing the three of us.
We bump fists. It’s not dramatic or emotional. It’s just us and our newfound reality.
A moment later, we part ways, Nicholas in his New York gear, Nico in his Houston jersey, and I’m left standing alone in my Warriors hat. That’s when I feel the weight of it settle in my chest like cement.
We made it, just not together.
And for the first time since I was ten years old, I don’t know what my game looks like without them beside me. We’re left in three corners of the United States. Tonight did not look like anything we had imagined. Not even close. I have no idea how any of it broke apart. And now? The workstarts. We go to camp, we push, we work, and we fight for our spots. And if they’re opposite each other? Well, that’s the way shit falls sometimes. Our dreams have arrived, and now, reality kicks in.
In the grand scheme of things, division sells. Drama sells. And we’re about to find out exactly how much.
After the cameras are off, most everyone has emptied out of the place, and I just want to crash. But before I can sit down, I spot my sister in the hallway.
Eva is flawless in a fitted navy blazer and heels that don'ttip tapelegantly across the floor. No, all night I heard them make a striking sound, reminding others who’s in charge. And she knows it, wearing an expression that says she’s been three steps ahead all night. She doesn’t rush to me; instead, she waits, arms crossed, watching, like always.
“Guess you’re not riding coattails after all,” she says as I walk over and stand next to her.
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you’re happy with this outcome.”
She leans in, adjusts my collar, just as she used to before junior high school dances. “You were made to stand alone anyway.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I mutter, glancing around at the empty room.
Eva tilts her head, studying me. “That’s how life works, but especially this game. Plans shift, and the fields get torn up. But you’ll adjust, and that’s what counts.”
I nod, but something about her tone is weird. I was hoping for a bit of emotion from her. She’s always been focused on business and always in control. She’s ten years older than me, and while I was busy throwing the ball with dad in the backyard, she was stacking fantasy teams, making faux bets, and drawing up plays. She loved footballas much as we did, and always looked to Dad for praise on her accomplishments. She promised him she’d make it to the top one day, a woman in charge, running her own sports management team.
She pats my chest once. “Congrats, Warrior. You’ll do fine.”
Then she walks away to speak with Dane, leaving me alone once again.
LATER THAT NIGHT …
Katerina’s Taverna is a small, Greek restaurant located a few blocks down from where the draft was held. It’s loud, smells of oregano and roasted lamb, and seems to be the happening place. The tables are crowded with families talking and laughing, forks scraping the plates, and wine glasses clinking.
When Mom insisted we eat together tonight, Próta i ikoyénia, my sister had already searched out this place. It’s always beenfamily firstaccording to her, so this feels like home, and it has me missing Dad even more. Eva felt it, too, because the first thing she did was order a bottle of his favorite wine.
Mom leans over the table, filling my plate, even though I told her twice I’m stuffed. “You need to eat, agápi mou. Big day, big food.” She drops another spoonful of roastedpotatoes next to my lamb before reaching for the breadbasket. “Bread gives strength. You’ll need it.”
“Mom.” I laugh weakly, nudging the plate back. “I just got drafted, I didn’t run a marathon.”
