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“Layne, you can spit it out.”
“Just what happened the other night,” Layne said, taking a step away from her. “Sorry. Never mind.”
Shay sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just need to focus on the game right now.”
“Right. Sorry, again,” Layne repeated. “I’ll just go shoot.”
“Layne!” Coach yelled. “And Shay.”
“We’re being summoned,” Shay said to Layne, hoping that might make the quiet woman laugh or, at least, crack a smile.
It did, but Shay could tell that it was forced. They walked over to their coach and waited for instructions.
“Martin’s starting.”
“I know, Coach,” Layne replied.
“But I want you to be ready. She might only be able to handle two minutes at a time.”
“Okay. I am.”
“Shay, you need to be ready to shift. If I want Layne bringing the ball up the court, you need to–”
“Yeah, Coach. I know. We’re ready,” she interjected.
She didn’t know why her coach was telling both of them things they already knew, but since Coach had her fingernails bitten to the quick, Shay guessed that the woman might be a little nervous. She’d never taken a team this far before, either.
“We’ve got it,” Layne confirmed.
“Good. Okay. Well, let’s get everyone together.”
With warm-ups over, the team huddled up. Then, starters were announced, and Shay felt the nerves that had already hit their coach, hit her, too. She tried to breathe through them like she’d been taught to do in her yoga class, but thinking about how this would probably be her last game, if they lost, was getting to her more tonight than it had with every other recent game. Shay swallowed hard and took her spot on the court, trying to keep her heart from racing, but that seemed like an insurmountable task.
The team they were about to play had only lost two games all season. They had the top two players in the conference, and both were All-Americans. Shay would be guarding one, and Martin would have the other. Shay looked over at the bench, and for the first time in all four of her Dunbar basketball seasons, she wished silently that Layne Stoll was on this court, taking Martin’s place.
Layne met her eye at the same time, and before Shay could look away, pretending like that hadn’t just happened, Layne gave her a shy smile, and Shay felt a little better for some reason. Then, the ball was tipped, and it was time to play.
???
“Coach, I’m good,” Martin argued during a time-out.
“Your ankle might be, but Layne’s going in. Have a seat, Martin,” Coach replied. “Layne, they’re switching on their picks, so when they do, take advantage of it. You’re taller and faster.”
“Got it,” Layne replied and removed her warm-up stuff.
“Check-in,” Coach said.
Layne nodded and jogged to the score table, where Shay watched her check in for Martin, who was sulking off to the side of the huddle.
“Am I point, or is Layne?” Shay asked.
“Layne,” Coach replied. “Have a seat, Shay. Roy, you’re in for Shay. Layne’s point.”
Shay nodded and looked down at the floor. She hadn’t been playing well, and she knew it. She only had two points and had as many fouls. Jameson was also in foul trouble, so Lisa Ledger had come in for her because she was a better match for the player Jameson was guarding, whether or not they were playing zone. Martin had played the whole first quarter, and things had started off well for her, but she hadn’t yet scored and had slowed down substantially. She’d also just gotten her first foul and was having a hard time on defense. Shay knew it was the right thing to bring Layne in, but Shay hardly ever sat during games. Short breaks here and there, yes, but she’d been averaging thirty-four minutes a game and had no problem with that. Her game hardly suffered, even when playing so many minutes, but tonight, she’d sit on the bench, and she wouldn’t complain, despite wanting to scream into the void.
“This is fucked up,” Martin said once the game started back up. “We should be out there.”
“You need a break, Martin. And maybe I do, too.”
