I’ll never earn anything on my own.
As Rue reaches me, my stomach sinks in despair with the realization that I’m not getting that scholarship. There’s no way, not after I fell and had to lie low the rest of the game. After I blew that winning shot by pushing through my opponent. Not only will my insecurities be confirmed, but I’ll have no confirmation that I’ve done something in my life without my parents’ help for once.
“You did amazing out there, Davis,” Rue breathes. Her face is practically glowing as she wraps her arms around me.
For a minute, I’m frozen in surprise, but I thaw quickly and hug her back. With her in my arms, it’s hard to remember what I was just worrying about. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”
She laughs as she untangles herself from my embrace. “Does that sound like something I would do? Lie to spare your feelings?”
“No. But I messed up bad. There’s no way I?—”
“Davis,” Coach barks at me from across the court. “Locker room. Now.”
I deflate. “See? I’m about to get an earful about how badly I just messed up my entire future. I’m not good enough. Not for that scout, Rue.”
She looks appalled as she rears back with a frown on her face. “Good enough? Ez, of course you are. Whether or not you get the scholarship, you’re good enough for your team and good enough for me.”
My heart swells. “For you?”
Rue blushes. “That’s what I said.”
“Davis, I’m not gonna ask you again,” Coach yells.
“Go,” says Rue. She giggles and gently pushes my chest. “We can talk when you’re done…about everything.”
“I’d—I’d like that.” I barely manage to get the words out. My heart is beating triple speed, and my palms are sweating.
“Go,” she says again.
I walk backwards toward the gym, so I don’t have to stop looking at her right away before turning back around and limp-jogging to where Coach and the rest of the team are waiting. As I go, I say a small, silent prayer.I know Rue says I’m good enough, but it’s not true. I haven’t trusted You enough. I’m going to try to do better, and whatever happens, I know it will be Your will, and that’s good enough for me.
When I enter the locker room, everyone is quiet. Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepare for Coach Dresden to rip into me for that foul.
But he doesn’t rip into me.
Instead…he’s smiling. And a man with a clipboard is there with him, and he steps forward to shake my hand. “Ezra, right? I’m Coach Stevens from Harbor University.”
My stomach drops.
“I’ve been watching you and another player this season,” he continues. “And tonight, even with the injury, I saw what I needed to see.”
Hope rises in my chest. “You did?”
He nods. “We’re still in the evaluation process, but I’d really like to stay in touch. Talk to your coach, review some film, go over academics. You’re definitely on our radar.”
On our radar.
I think I black out, or maybe hallucinate what happens next: me thanking him, my team cheering and whooping, and Coach Dresden’s fist bump of approval. It all happens in a blur. I can’t believe it’s real.
But it is.
I didn’t ruin my chances. The fact that I even have a chance tells me everything I need to know. My parents had nothing to do with this.
Staring at the ceiling, I can’t help but smile through the emotion burning in my throat.
Thank you.
It’s weird to be in the audience on opening night for the musical. Up ’til now, I’ve been up in that box above the audience with Rue. But now I get to see the full impact of her work for the show.
