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“I’m fine, Dad,” I interrupt. I don’t need a pep talk, at least not from him. I just need to stay in my head, stay focused.
I open the front door and freeze momentarily. There’s a single, sad looking balloon hanging off the porch railing. Bright orange, like the team colors. And written in black marker, a large #3, my jersey number. I notice more writing on the other side, and so I flip it between my hands and take a closer look. A laugh erupts from deep in my throat. BOO!
* * *
My back squeaks against the hardwood as I slide a few feet, leaving a trail of sweat in my wake. The crowd that’d been deafening all night is suddenly quiet. I start to raise my hand to shield my eyes from the bright gym lights, but Rhys stands over me, blocking them. He offers me his hand, and the crowd goes crazy. His grin matches mine when I use his hand to help me get back on my feet. “They’re going to keep knocking you down until you can’t get back up!” he shouts into my ear.
I make my way to the free-throw line, hands out for the ball. “They can keep trying,” I yell back. “But I can go all damn night!”
I sink both shots without even trying.
“All damn night, baby!” Rhys whoops, ruffling my hair.
From the sidelines, Coach Sykes calls out to me, “Are you done?”
“Not even close!”
My opponent stands beside me, hands on his knees. He’s the sixth one to cover me tonight, and he’s done. Roasted. Me? I haven’t even warmed up yet. He turns to me, shaking his head. “Where the hell did you come from, Ledger?”
I shrug. “Florida.”
“Well, go the fuck back.”
* * *
“You killed it tonight, Ledger,” Oscar, a sophomore says, punching my shoulder while I sit in front of my locker.
“Thanks, man.”
“Yeah, way to show us up,” Mitch calls.
I ignore him, but Rhys doesn’t. “Last I checked, basketball was a team sport. Go run track if you want to get noticed, or I don’t know… up your fucking game.”
Mitch scoffs. “You cup his balls while you’re down there kissing his ass?”
Rhys laughs. “No, but your mom does.”
I grab my phone from my locker, the post-win adrenaline spiking when I see the text from Ava:
Ava: Triple double on your first game? Way to show off, #3.
Connor: Stalk much?
Ava: What can I say? I’m a fan.
Connor: I pretended you were there.
Ava: :( I wish I were.
Connor: You kind of were.
Ava: How?
Connor: I popped that balloon and shoved it down my shorts.
Ava: Gross.
Connor: Yet endearing, right?
