A Game Worth Watching (7 page)

“Hey.”
Coach stepped between them, her arms spread wide to prevent a full-on attack.
“What’s going on here?”

“She
started it!” Lauren shrieked. “All I did was try and talk to her when she
freaked out and pushed me.”

Emma
rolled her eyes. Great, just what she needed, to be responsible for the imprint
of a basketball on the forehead of a girl who couldn’t catch a simple pass and
for starting a fight with the team bully. And people wondered why she hated
girls.

Not
a fan of conflict, Coach waved Lauren toward Madison and pulled Emma aside.
Here it comes, Emma thought.

“Emma,
you’re an amazing basketball player, and you’re looking great out there,” Coach
kept her voice down so others wouldn’t hear, “but I need you to tone it down a
few notches.”

Emma’s
eyes narrowed into slits. “What?” If she toned it down any more she’d be moving
in slow motion and lobbing passes to the moon.

“These
girls aren’t used to your,” Coach paused, searching for the right word, “well,
let’s say, your enthusiasm.”

“My
enthusiasm?” Emma spit out. Enthusiasm was a word to describe cheerleaders and
little kids on a soccer field. It was not a word to describe basketball talent
and an ability to pass the ball to a fellow teammate.

With
a slight flinch, Coach nodded.

Emma
had never heard of a coach asking a player to dumb down her skills for the
betterment of a team. Unbelievable!

“You’re
kidding me, right?” Emma caught sight of Lauren’s smug grin from a few feet
away and snapped. “So, instead of having them step it up and actually catch a
decent pass, you want me to stoop down to their level and play like a girl?”
She didn’t care about keeping her voice down. It wasn’t like their lack of
talent was a secret. “In case you missed it, at the level we’re playing, we’re
going to get slaughtered in every game we play this year.”

Coach
winced at Emma’s bluntness, but Emma didn’t care. The woman needed to know the
truth. Emma hadn’t signed up for this girl-infested team with a goal to carry
out the losing tradition. What would be the point?

Coach
held up her hands, trying to calm Emma down. “I know. I don’t like it any
better than you do, but we’re in a rebuilding year. What we need to do is take
the team where it’s at.”

“A
rebuilding year,” Emma repeated. “In other words that will be our excuse for
playing bad and losing, is that it?”

Coach
didn’t respond. Her eyebrows pinched together, and her eyes voiced a wordless
apology.

Emma
threw her hands in the air and took a step back. Apology not accepted. “Sorry,
Coach. I can’t play that way. Come find me when you’re ready to play some real
basketball.” She walked out of the gym, feeling the stares on her back as she
pushed through the door and slipped into the night without looking back.

***

In
no mood to go home, Emma found herself at the neighborhood court staring at the
hoop from the free-throw line, looking for answers about what to do next. With
no ball, and only the moonlight to accompany her, she couldn’t even play away
her frustrations.

Stupid
girls’ basketball team. She should’ve known playing with them wouldn’t work.
Unqualified coach, stuck-up girls, and a losing mentality—not something
she wanted to be a part of. She’d made her decision to sever ties with the
girls team as soon as she walked out of the gym—she was set on her
decision—so why did it feel like she’d walked out on more than a
worthless team?

She
could act tough with Riley, she could lie to Coach, she could ignore just about
anyone, but now, with no witnesses, Emma couldn’t escape the truth. Was it
wrong if a small part of her wanted it? To be part of a real team, to wear a
real uniform, to play in a real game and feel like she belonged? Riley had said
she wouldn’t get a scholarship to play on a boys’ basketball team, so would it
be so horrible to get a scholarship to play on a,
gulp
, girls team? Would she even have a
shot at the whole college thing? Was she delusional to think her future could
possibly hold something other than living at home and working a dead-end job?
She knew better than to let her thoughts drift in alignment with Riley’s,
knowing it would only set her up for disappointment, but she couldn’t help it.
A part of her wished and dreamed for the impossible, but it didn’t matter.
She’d just walked out on any chance she’d have to know.

Emma
sighed. The team would be better off without her anyway. Less team conflicts,
less injuries. They’d probably throw a party now that she was gone.

She
sat cross-legged on the free-throw line, trying not to notice how the darkness
crept closer. It always crept closer. Over the years, she had spent too many
nights trying to ward off the darkness as she waited in vain for her mom to
come home, listened to her dad and brothers fight, and tried to understand why
bad things always happened to her. Even now, she couldn’t manage to keep the
darkness—the guilt, the resentment, the unsettling truth—away. She
should have been relieved to finally be done with the girls and the team, so
why did her body tense and her teeth clench together at the thought of Coach’s
this-is-a-rebuilding-year speech?

Before
she could formulate an answer, headlights ripped through the darkness and
illuminated her before going black. She heard a car engine cut off, a door open
and close, and the shuffle of footsteps across the pavement.

“Em?
Is that you?”

She
should’ve known Riley would find her. He must have a tracking device on her or
something. Was it wrong to prefer loneliness and darkness to her best friend?
Riley would want answers—answers she didn’t want to defend right now.

“What
are you doing here?” he asked, his tone thick with concern. “Did you get out of
practice early?”

“Nope.”

“You
okay?”

“Never
better.”

“Then
what’s going on?”

She
stood so they’d be at the same level, and he wouldn’t tower over her when she
broke the news to him. No matter what words she used, he wouldn’t like what she
had to say. She took a deep breath, her head tilting to the side, feigning
indifference. “I quit.”

“What
do you mean you quit?”

She
crossed her arms and held his gaze. “I mean, I quit.”

Quitting
the team had been the right thing to do, she knew it, but facing Riley and
seeing the anger and disappointment twist his face was too much.

He
grabbed her arm as she started to turn away from him. “Why?”

She
shrugged, determined not to care, determined not to let him make her
second-guess her decision. “It wasn’t working out for me.”

“How
about you break it down for me a little more than that?” His fingers tightened
around her arm, so she couldn’t pull away. Even in the dark she could see his
eyes narrow and his face harden. After all the effort it took for him to
persuade her to actually join the team, and now he learned it had all been in
vain. He hated failure.

“It’s
a rebuilding year.” A death sentence for any team. Riley knew that. Merely
saying the words brought a sour taste to her mouth. “No one expects us to win;
no one even expects us to play well. Coach Knowles told me to tone it down.
She’s put training wheels on every single player and refuses to take them off.
She’s enabling them to be losers, and I refuse to be a part of it.” Despite her
effort to keep her tone light and uninterested, she heard the harshness in it.

His
head tilted to the side and he looked at her through squinted eyes. “Did she
actually say that?”

“Pretty
much.”

He
frowned and exhaled through his nostrils. “Well, she’s in a tough position, and
she’s probably trying to figure it all out.”

She
jerked her arm out of his grasp and stepped away from him. “Why does it not
surprise me that you’d defend her?”

“I’m
not defending her, I’m just—”

“I
just smacked some girl in the face with a ball because she couldn’t catch a
standard pass!” she shouted, knowing he didn’t understand the full extent of
her situation. He’d glorified her role on the team and never stopped to gain a
clear insight into what she endured every day she played with the stupid,
untalented, good-for-nothing group of girls. He could play full out at practice
and not have to worry about holding back because the guys on his team could
actually catch the ball. Emma refused to spend the entire season capping her
ability in fear of hurting a girl who couldn’t catch the stupid ball. It wasn’t
worth it. “The team is a joke. None of those girls want to be there. If they
did, they wouldn’t treat practice like some social event. I promised you I’d
join the team to play basketball, not to humiliate myself and waste my time.
I’m sorry, Riley,” she said coldly. “It’s over.”

He
shook his head and exhaled a laugh of disgust. “You sure this isn’t just an
excuse for you?”

She
jutted out her chin in defiance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He
closed the distance between them and when he spoke, his words came out low and
harsh. “The Emma I know isn’t a quitter. So the team is worse than you
thought.” He shrugged. “Big deal. You have so much to offer them, and if you
took a step back and stopped being so selfish, you’d see that and wouldn’t be
trying to run away. They need you, and you know it. You’re not mad, you’re
scared.”

“I
am
not
scared.” Annoyed, yes. Frustrated, absolutely. But scared? Not a chance. Riley
didn’t believe her. One look at his face, and Emma’s temper took over. “What do
you know about anything?” She shoved him away from her. “You say I have so much
to offer them, but I don’t. So what if I can play basketball? Those girls
despise me more for it. If anything, the team is better off without me.”

“Emma—”
he said, reaching for her.

“No.”
She held up her hand to cut him off and reinforce the invisible barrier between
them. “I don’t want to hear it. I know you had big dreams for me on this team,
but I’m done. You can’t make me go back.”

He
didn’t respond. Sometime in the last five minutes the night air had turned cold
and chills sprouted on her skin, but she didn’t move to dig her sweatshirt out
of her bag or suggest they continue their argument indoors. She just stood
there, staring at him, staring at her.

What
next?

Her
answer came when another car pulled into the parking lot beside Riley’s jeep.
The headlights illuminated the court before shutting off.

Now
what? Emma wanted to scream. Since when did people congregate at night on an
empty court? Was nowhere private?

They
broke their staring contest to focus on the new intruder crossing the court
toward them.

“I’m
sorry, is this a bad time?”

Emma
groaned. Coach Knowles. The last person she wanted to see. “Actually, it is.”

“No,
it’s a fine time.” The kindness in Riley’s voice cancelled Emma’s bitterness.
“In fact,” he glared at Emma to tell her to behave and play nice, “I was just
leaving.”

“No,”
Emma and Coach Knowles said together. Emma grabbed his forearm and pulled him
back beside her. He may drive her crazy sometimes, but no way was he going to
leave her to face Coach on her own.

Coach
held up a hand to stop any further plans of his retreat. “Stay, please.” She
turned her focus on Emma. “I came to apologize to you, Emma. You were right.”

“She
was?” Riley asked in surprise.

“I
was?” Emma repeated. She had opinions. Lots of opinions. She could voice them
all night if she wanted, but no one ever listened to her, and no one ever told
her she was right.

“When
I took this job, everyone told me I was crazy. They said the team was beyond
help, and I was setting myself up for failure, but I didn’t care. All I wanted
was to make a difference. I thought I could come in here and be this amazing
coach and change everything around like you see in the movies.” Coach Knowles
shook her head and laughed. “The truth is, I’m in way over my head and have no
idea what I’m doing.”

“I’ve
noticed,” Emma mumbled.

“Emma,”
Riley snapped, elbowing her in the side.

“What?”
Coach’s confession confirmed Emma’s assumption that Jen Knowles had not been
hired because of any outstanding qualifications. The woman had probably been
the only person to apply for the job. “You’d notice too if you spent an hour at
our practices.”

“Look,
I know I’m not your ideal coach, but I do care about this team.” Coach raised
her eyebrows knowingly. “Based on how you walked out today, I know you do too,
which is why I need your help.”

What
was this crazy woman talking about? Emma walked out because she
didn’t
care
about the team. She cared about basketball, and she wasn’t about to rejoin the
team as Coach’s little helper. “You don’t need my help. You just want a star
player for your team.”

Coach
nodded. “You’re right.”

Those
words again. Emma wished she’d stop saying them. They just didn’t sound…right.

“But,”
Coach said, her best-friends-forever attitude forgotten, “What you call a star
player, I call a leader. If we want any chance to win this season, I need
you
to be the
team leader.”

Emma
remembered Mr. Ledger voicing similar words two weeks ago, but coming from Jen
Knowles they sounded more like a cry for help than a rallying of the troops.
Regardless, Emma didn’t want to be the team leader, she just wanted to play.

Coach
Knowles took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “I’m here to ask for your
patience and for your trust. You keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll do my
best to bring the team to your level.” She smiled at Emma. “You’re ten times
the player I ever was, so if there is anything you can do to help the team, I’d
appreciate it. And if you gave the girls a chance, I’m sure they’d appreciate
it too. It can’t be easy on them either, playing with a girl as talented as
you.”