“Watch it,” I warn. “Practice might be over, but I doubt Coach Paulson or Principal Reyes would appreciate you speaking to any teacher like that.”
Carter snorts and rolls his eyes.
“Teacher? I don’t see a teacher. I see a sorry excuse for an assistant coach and a failed pro baller.”
I wince.
“Straight for the jugular, as always.” He kicks the bleacher in front of him, but doesn’t storm off like he usually would. “Not that I don’t love being eviscerated by someone barely old enough to vote, but you seem particularly touchy today. Wanna talk about it?”
Carter rears back for another burn, and I raise my hands to hold him off.
“Now, I know you’ve got plenty of sick burns locked and loaded, some of which I’ll definitely be thinking about on the long ride home tonight,” I say with a rueful smile, “but maybe we could skip all the super fun banter and you just tell me what’s wrong.”
He stays quiet for a moment, considering my offer. I hold my breath. I’d give anything for a truce. My skin has grown pretty thick after years of grown men talking shit, trying to get in my head, but going back and forth with him every practice is exhausting, and preseason startsnext month.
“My dad lost his job.”
Wow.I would’ve guessed he was being pissy for entirely selfish reasons, not because he was worried about his dad. He certainly doesn’t give a shit about anyone on the team.
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “That must be tough. But I’m sure he’ll find something soon.”
Running the clinics over the past few summers, I’ve had to talk with plenty of kids whose personal struggles were affecting their gameplay. Being out of work might not be as bad as a family member getting incarcerated, drug addiction, or even neglect, but it can still rock a kid’s foundation. I was lucky to come from a stable, supportive home, but for so many in this city, that’s not the case.
“That’s just it,” he responds, looking at me directly for the first time since I sat down. “He’s been out of work formonths, and I just found out. They’ve been dipping into my college fund to make ends meet.”
Fuck. I don’t say the word aloud, but it must be written on my face, because he snorts again.
“Exactly. So now there’s even more pressure to play my ass off, because the only way I’m going to college is with a scholarship.”
He turns away, and we both go silent, looking at the now empty court. That kind of pressure is bound to fuck with anyone’s game. Thankfully, I know a thing or ten about dealing with pressure. I nudge his shoulder to get his attention.
“Hey. I’m really sorry about what’s going on at home.” He just shrugs. “How about I show you some techniques to help you be at the top of your game?”
He flops back against the bleachers behind him and throws one arm over his eyes.
“Not more drills!” he wails. “Between you and Coach, I won’t be able to walk by the end of the week.”
I chuckle.
“No more drills. I’m talking about mental techniques to help compartmentalize the bull—” I clear my throat and he smirks. “Thenonsense, so you can focus on the game. I mean, I know I’m just a washed-up basketball player, but I’ve helped a few teammates get their heads back into the game.”
“You’d do that?” he asks, clearly suspicious.
“Why wouldn’t I? You think I can’t handle a little ribbing?” I raise an eyebrow. “Plus, I’m not doing it for free.”
He glares at me.
“I tell you my family is having money problems, and you turn around and try to charge me for…what? Counseling?”
I hold up my hands again.
“I’m not charging you in money,” I insist. “I want a truce. Ease up on me during practices, and on Coach and your teammates, too. You do that, and we can work on some tips. It’s definitely not counseling, but they’ve helped me.”
He eyes me up and down, then extends his hand.
“Deal.”
I shake it and mentally jump for joy.Thank God!I couldn’t take much more of this kid’s jabs. I reach for my phone.
