Page 303 of Ruthless Court

I smile at the memory.

“I could play.”

“How old?”

“Seven when I started hanging around. Ten when the older guys stopped automatically kicking me off.”

“That was your credibility.”

“Exactly.”

Not grades.

Not money.

Not clothes.

Not whether I could solve a worksheet before everyone else.

Put a ball in my hands and people wanted me there.

“I got bigger around thirteen. Faster. Started beating guys who used to destroy me.”

“You were a late bloomer?”

“More like puberty finally decided to contribute.”

She laughs.

“Then one summer this coach shows up.”

I can still picture him standing behind the fence.

Khakis.

Polo.

Sunglasses.

Watching.

“He coached at this private school across town. Expensive place. Kids showed up in cars that cost more than my parents made in a year.”

“What did he want?”

“Point guard.”

I shrug.

“They were trying to build a championship team. He saw me playing and asked where I went to school.”

“What did you say?”

“None of your business.”

Hannah laughs.

“I was thirteen.”