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“I told Coach not to put me out here,” I mumble as we head out the door.
“And I told you to play nice.” Coach Turnrose walks in behind me and is in my face the second I walk into the locker room. “What the heck was that?”
I shrug him off.
“Hey. Hey.” He steps around me, face to face. “It was a valid question.”
I hesitate before finally turning to face him. I know the other guys are listening. I can practically feel their eyes on the back of my head. I stare past him, off at nothing, making it more than obvious that I don’t want to be here.
And there, at the back of my mind, is the loudest voice of all—my dad’s.
You’re worthless, Gray, you know that? You don’t make those shots, those easy shots, you might as well pack it up and go home. You’re wasting everyone’s time.
If you’re not the best, what’s the point?
WHAT’S THE POINT?
“Are you ever going to start being a part of this team?” Coach asks. “Are you ever going to quit whining? Philadelphia was going to trade you whether we wanted you or not.”
My eyes flick to his.
“Yeah. Sorry to let that little nugget out, but a trade was going to happen,” he says. “No matter what. You were gone.” He points at Dallas. “This guy saved you from ending up in Carolina.”
I look at Dallas, and he shrugs.
Turnrose is hot. “You’ve been lucky to be in the same place for a few years, but trades happen. It’s a business. It’s part of the game. So, figure it out, get on board or you’re on the bench. I don’t care how good you think you are.”
He storms off, leaving me standing there staring at the slammed door of the locker room.
I grit my teeth. Everything I’m doing, or not doing, or saying, or not saying is just making things worse.
I punch the heel of my right hand against the locker. Hard.
In the haze of my anger, there’s an image that breaks through everything else.
Eloise.
Why her? Why now?
She said I want to make this work. That Dallas and I could be great together. That I’m sick of being the guy no one wants to be around.
She’s right. I am sick of it.
She’s right about all of it, but I don’t have the first clue about how to change.
I walk over to my locker, avoiding everyone’s stares. I yank my bag off the hooks, grab the rest of my stuff, and walk out without saying a word to anyone.
I don’t say a word on the way to the airport, as we board the plane, or the whole flight home. And everyone is content to leave me alone. I watch as the guys interact with each other, fresh off of what is arguably a successful road trip. We won two of the three games. The guys played great, but they did that despite me—not because of me.
If you’re not the best, what’s the point?
It’s late when we land in Chicago. I’m grabbing my luggage when Burke walks up to me, the only one stupid enough, or brave enough, to try to talk to me, I guess.
“Not going to give you some big speech about how we need you,” he says.
I don’t respond.
“But the thing of it is . . . we need you.” He’s got a large bag slung over his shoulder, and he sighs. “I meant it when I said I think you’re the key to this whole thing. I guess I just need to figure out how to convince you.”
