A Game Worth Watching (17 page)

“You
okay?” Riley asked.

She
held the ball at the top of the key, crouched in triple threat position. “I’m
fine,” she said coldly.

“Why
don’t I believe you?”

“I
don’t know. That’s your problem.” Okay, so that was a little harsh, but it was
for the best to ward off any weird feelings between them, especially with the
freshman watching. “You going to guard me like a girl all day or are you going
to give me something to work with?”

He
frowned. “Em, what’s wrong?”

Like
she was going to rehash Ashley’s ridiculous assessment for him. “Nothing. Let’s
play.” She resisted the urge to apologize to him. Ashley and everyone else
needed to know nothing more than friendship existed between them.

She
wouldn’t let it.

Emma
glanced at Riley’s profile. It was best to observe him when he was distracted
by driving and wasn’t aware of her staring. The thought of Riley and her being anything
more than friends was absurd. Sure, his gaze lingered on her longer than any
other guy she knew, and he was more affectionate with her than the other guys
were, especially after the kissing on the cheek incident, and her stomach
fluttered at the prospect of seeing him sometimes, and her heart ached when
they were apart. But so what? This behavior was typical for friends. Best
friends. Nothing else existed between them. Nothing else could exist.

Rain
poured from the sky. Even with the windshield wipers thumping back and forth on
full speed, the road to school was barely visible. Leaves and debris clogged
the street drains, causing water to partially cover the roadway. Not ideal
weather to travel in for an away game.

Riley
hunched over the steering wheel, as if being six inches closer to the road
would allow him to actually see the lane.

“Stop
breathing so hard.” He adjusted the vents. “You’re fogging all the windows.”

She
took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and exhaled, adding an extra layer of fog
to the interior of the car.

“Do
you want to walk to school from here?”

“Only
a crazy person would walk to school in these torrential rains,” she said.
“Besides, you’re too nice to cast me out of the car without an umbrella or a
decent rain coat.”

He
laughed at her. “Yeah, you’re right. I am nice. Unlike some people I know.”
Despite the road conditions, he risked a glare in her direction to emphasize
his point.

See?
Nothing but healthy best friend bantering.

They
pulled into the school parking lot where dozens of kids darted from their cars
to the school building. Riley parked the car and switched off the engine. They
watched the downpour, hoping it would let up for a minute or two so they
wouldn’t get drenched on their dash into school, but the black clouds overhead
weren’t going anywhere. Rain pelted the roof of the car like bullets, causing
them to shout above the noise.

“You
ready?” he yelled at her.

“Ready
as I’ll ever be!” she yelled back.

“One.”
They grabbed their backpacks from the backseat and secured them over their
shoulders.

“Two.”
Hands on the door latches for a quick evacuation.

“Three.”
They hopped out of the jeep, slamming the doors behind them, and raced to the
school building. Days like these didn’t make the parking lot’s distance from
the school convenient. Sure, it would have been smart to bring umbrellas or
raincoats, but wet stuff was a pain to store in lockers. Their feet sloshed
through the puddles, the rain soaking them by the time they took refuge inside
the school.

“Well,
that was fun.” Riley shook his head so drops of water splattered Emma’s face.

She
pushed him against the lockers in retaliation and he laughed.

“I’ll
see you in second period.” She left him to stare after her. Her shoes squeaked
against the linoleum floor as she weaved her way through the hall. She spun the
numbers on her locker, shook water from her backpack, and transferred books
from her locker into her bag for her morning classes. Everything was wet. The
thirty-second sprint from the parking lot into school was enough time to dampen
everything in her bag. Hopefully, teachers took into account the current
weather conditions when they asked for homework.

“Hi,
Emma.”

The
voice didn’t hold the deep tone of Riley or one of the guys. Emma turned toward
the girl’s voice and froze. “What happened to you?”

Yes,
Emma was wet, but Ashley was soaked from head to toe like she’d been dunked in
a swimming pool with her clothes on, the basketball in her hand glistening with
water. She had a silly grin on her face. “Nothing.”

“Why
are you so wet?”

Confusion
registered on Ashley’s face. “What do you mean? It’s Tuesday. I walked to
school like you told me to. I’m not good enough to dribble and hold an umbrella
at the same time.”

Did
freshmen not have a shred of common sense? “I didn’t mean you had to walk in
the torrential downpour,” Emma said, keeping her distance from the waterlogged
kid. Water continued to drip from Ashley’s clothes, creating a puddle on the
floor around her.

Ashley
shrugged. “It’s not so bad. It’s just a little water. Besides, I think my
dribbling is awesome.” Her face lit up, and she spun the ball in her hands. “I
dribbled the entire way and only lost control of the ball three times. Pretty
good, don’t you think? I even tried some of your fancy dribbling moves to avoid
the puddles. They didn’t work out so well, but I’ll get there. I think I’m
ready for the game tonight. Do you think I’ll get to play so I can show you? I
have a good feeling. We’re definitely going to win tonight.”

“That’s
great.” For once Emma wasn’t interested in talking basketball. Ashley stood
dripping water all over the floor with a basketball clutched in her hands like
she hadn’t just walked a mile in the pouring rain. What was with this kid? “Do you
have a change of clothes?”

Ashley
shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You’re
fine until you have to sit through six hours of classes. Trust me.” Emma knew
from experience what it was like to sit through school in sopping clothes,
which is why she was always prepared. She dug into her locker and pulled out a
pair of sweats and a t-shirt. They didn’t smell fabric-softener fresh, but they
didn’t smell like mildew either. “Here,” she said, offering them to Ashley.
Despite her lingering irritation from her last conversation with Ashley, she
couldn’t let the kid suffer. “They’ll be huge on you, but at least you won’t
freeze.”

Ashley
grabbed the clothes with her free hand. “Thanks.”

Emma
gave her one more look-over and shook her head. “And from now on, no more
walking to school in the rain, got it?”

Ashley
smiled. “Got it, Coach.”

“I’m
not your coach,” Emma said with an edge to her voice. “Don’t ever call me that
again.”

Ashley
giggled. “Whatever you say.”

The
kid weaved through the bodies towering above her as she made her way to the
bathroom to change. Emma shook her head again. It was the only thing she could
do when she watched Ashley. Even as a freshman, Ashley was the most pitiful kid
she’d ever seen, but Emma couldn’t help but smile at the image of her dribbling
down the street, dodging raindrops and puddles to improve her basketball
skills. No, she didn’t like Ashley—it went against her no-girl
policy—but something about the kid was difficult to ignore.

She
hoped the freshman was right about them winning tonight. They’d won their first
game of the season, but they’d lost their two games since then. More than
anything, Bradshaw needed a victory, especially against their cross-town rival.

***

Bodies
slammed against each other, elbows hammered to find a way to the basket,
fingernails drew blood. The battle between Bradshaw and Evergreen High School
gave new meaning to the concept of cross-town rivalry. Even Emma, with no
history on the girls’ team, could feel how the game against the number one team
in the league was about so much more than basketball. The snide remarks, the
unnecessary fouling, the smug grins. Evergreen didn’t want to beat Bradshaw;
they wanted to humiliate them.

Having
figured out Emma was the star player, Evergreen attacked her from all sides.
She couldn’t just shoot or drive, she had to jab, fake, spin, and fight her way
between two and three defenders for every shot. No matter how good of a player
she was, Emma couldn’t play this game alone. Her teammates, focused more on
avenging fouls than winning, threw up random shots, forced their way through
two or three defenders only to lose the ball, and lagged behind on defense.
Despite how much Bradshaw needed a victory, this game wouldn’t be the one for
them.

Halfway
through the second quarter, Bradshaw down by twenty, Ashley subbed in to give
Emma a rest. From the second the freshman stepped onto the court, the Evergreen
players targeted her, knowing she was the weakest player on the team. She
couldn’t take two steps without being bumped or fouled. Ashley spent more time
on the floor than upright, but she was a fighter. The kid pushed her bruised
body off the floor every time and resumed the game at a sprint. Whatever she
did during her mile walks to school every day, the kid was right, she could
dribble. She kept the ball low, close to her body, weaving through defenders,
and dribbling down the court to set up each play just like Emma had taught her.
When fouls resulted in shooting a one-and-one shot, Ashley stepped to the line,
spun the ball in her hands, and sunk two shots like a pro. Emma couldn’t help
but smile.

“Emma.”

She
heard Coach call her name, but she held up a finger, indicating she needed
another minute, and snatched a water bottle off the floor to give the kid some
extra playing time. No matter how much the freshman improved, Coach didn’t let
her play longer than a minute or two before plucking her out and sentencing her
to the bench. Emma felt Coach’s eyes on her for the signal to sub her back in,
but she kept her eyes on Ashley.

“Emma.”

Coach’s
impatience escalated as the freshman got smashed between two defenders and fell
to the floor, so Emma finally nodded and trotted down to the sub-in table. The
buzzer sounded and Emma intercepted Ashley coming off the court. She placed her
hand on the kid’s head and said into her ear, “Plant your feet and don’t let
them push you around. Use your speed and agility to fight back, all right?”

Ashley
nodded and Emma smacked her on the back and rejoined her team on the court. By the
time the second quarter ended, half the team was on the verge of fouling out
and Bradshaw trailed by over thirty points.

Coach
held the door open and ushered the girls inside the locker room for their
halftime pep talk. Some of the girls found a seat on the one wooden bench in
front of the chalkboard while the rest of them leaned against the lockers. The
place smelled like stale perfume and body odor.

Coach
Knowles took her place in front of them. They waited for her to dissect the
first half and draw the plan for the remainder of the game, to give some
awe-inspiring speech and tell them to fight back, but her eyes only scanned the
clipboard in her hands. Did the woman know half time was only ten minutes long?
The silence stretched way too long before Coach cleared her throat. “You girls
are doing great out there. We just need to…refocus a bit.”

Seriously?
After the extended silence, Coach’s only advice was to refocus a bit? They
needed to focus period. Too many of Evergreen’s points were earned from the
free-throw line. Wide-open shots with no defenders? Who could miss them? If
Lauren and her groupies didn’t foul them every five seconds, maybe Evergreen
wouldn’t get so many free shots.

“Let’s
watch the fouls. Lauren. Shiloh. Madison. You each have three. Two more and
you’ll foul out. And we can’t afford that.” Coach’s demeanor wasn’t one of
strictness or authority. She had resorted back to her old let’s-just-be-friends
self.

“It
would help if the refs didn’t make such lousy calls,” Lauren muttered.

“Or
maybe they could try calling fair for both teams,” Shiloh added.

Emma
almost choked. “Are you kidding me?” She couldn’t help it. The words popped out
before she could swallow them. If Coach was going to act like a wallflower,
someone needed to speak up. Did they even understand what constituted a foul?
“From what I’ve seen, I’m surprised you all haven’t fouled out already.”

“Oh,
here we go,” Lauren said, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you to
speak only when spoken to? Oh, wait. I guess she wasn’t around long enough for
that.”

No
one spoke as Emma’s hands clenched into fists. She took a deep breath, trying
to remain calm. As much as she would’ve loved to teach Lauren a thing or two,
Emma let her comment slide and plunged ahead with the real issue. “Newsflash!
Your strategy of fouling every chance you get isn’t working. Evergreen is
shooting ninety percent from the line, which means for every ten shots they
take, they make nine. As in nine points.” Emma looked at each of her teammates.
“You guys want to win? Play smart. Stop fouling. Let them run into you and draw
the foul for a change. Make them send you to the line and then sink two shots
like it’s the easiest thing you’ve done all day.”

Madison
and a couple others exchanged glances before looking at Emma, their brows
creased in doubt. Coach Knowles stood in the front of the room, arms crossed,
watching the team, but not intervening. Big surprise there. How had a woman who
hated conflict ever get signed on to coach a girls’ basketball team?

“In
other words, we need to be like Ashley and let them clobber us,” Lauren said,
unconvinced Emma knew what she was talking about.

Emma
looked at Ashley who bowed her head, her cheeks flushing. “Yes, like Ashley,”
Emma said. “They may be fouling her, but at least she’s not handing them the
ball and giving them wide open shots. If you haven’t noticed, Ashley’s had a
few opportunities to score from the free-throw line and six of our points are
from her.”