Aced (Blocked #2) (36 page)

Bounce, bounce, bounce
. It felt amazing to have a basketball in my hand again, like the ball was an extension of my arm. And playing three-on-three on an outdoor court on the White House lawn? That was special, too. Maddie, Braxton, and I faced off against Lucia, Dad, and Dane, and I was excited to have a Maddie-caliber athlete on my side. As I’d predicted, she had qualified for the national travel team. We were celebrating with one last June weekend together before she traveled to tournaments in Europe, and I started med school rotations.

I watched Maddie dart around Lucia in an attempt to get open, but my sister moved in place to guard her. When Dane reached his long arm in to steal the ball from me, I evaded him easily. But it wasn’t so easy to see around his gargantuan frame. After a couple of dribbles, I looked to Braxton, who broke away from Dad and hustled to the basket. I lobbed my pass above the rim, and he leaped to dunk it. The timing was perfect, and the ball slammed through the basket with a satisfying swoosh.

“Yes!” I pumped my fist. Sweat slid down my back in the June sunshine.

After high-fiving her brother, Maddie panted with her hands on her hips. “That was a thing of beauty.”

Dad wheezed as he retrieved the ball, then glared at Maddie. “I thought you said your brother hadn’t played in eight years.”

“He hasn’t!” Maddie’s grin was cunning. “I just forgot to mention he turned down several basketball scholarships.”

“You turned down money for college?” Dad turned to look at Braxton.

Braxton shrugged. He
did
look like a natural in low-hanging basketball shorts. “Schools make too much money off their athletes. They should pay them.”

“Universities do pay their athletes, with a full scholarship,” Dad replied.

I exchanged a nervous look with Maddie. We’d wondered about the wisdom of passing along Dad’s White House invitation to her brother.

Braxton shook his head. “The NCAA makes millions off their slaves. A scholarship’s a drop in the bucket.”

“For places like Highbanks, maybe,” Dad said. “But so many schools lose money off their revenue sports. How could they afford to pay their athletes?”

“Are we playing, or what?” Lucia asked. “’Cause Maddie’s going down.”

“You wish, freshman.” Maddie’s eyes blazed.

Lucia stuck up her nose. “I’m a sophomore now!” Her T-shirt featured a player jump serving, with the words
Kiss My Ace
.

“Just be careful, everyone,” Mom piped in from the sideline. “Don’t get injured. Especially you, Maddie—your national coach would kill us.” She sat under an umbrella next to Mateo and China, with other Secret Service agents standing nearby. “You too, Adolfo. You’re too old to play with these kids!”

Dad grunted.

Mateo strummed his guitar and sang, “He’s over the hill, he drives a Seville…” He played a lively bridge, and Dane nodded his head to the beat.

“Sing it, brothah!” he hollered.

“But he’s got a strong will, he won’t stop until, his heart will stand still, they’ll have to defill…” His fingers flew over the strings. “…ibrate.”

Dad glowered. “I
bought
you that guitar, traitor!”

When Mom smacked Mateo, Lucia and I laughed. “Don’t sing about your father having a heart attack!” she chided.

“It’s defibrillate, Matty, not defillibrate,” I said.

“But that doesn’t rhyme.”

China shook her head, and I looked across the court to see Allison and Frank smiling at her. Though she wasn’t ready to return to duty, she’d made good progress recovering from her injuries.

“Enough of this.” Dad took the ball and dribbled it down the court with the rest of us flying behind him, trying to catch up. Dane’s loping stride reached the paint first, and he caught Dad’s pass to make an easy lay-up. Dad fist-bumped Dane as I took the ball behind the baseline. I passed it to Braxton and jogged toward the opposite basket.

Braxton executed a spin move that left Dad in the dust, and he shoveled a clean pass to Maddie, who drove for the basket. Lucia was on her like beans on rice, but Maddie pivoted and made a jump shot that found the basket.

That’s my girl
. I winked at her.

Dane received Dad’s inbound pass, and blew by me as I contemplated kissing Maddie.
¡Chin!
I was supposed to guard Dane. I sprinted behind him and was able to reach around to wave an arm in his face as he shot a three. The ball bounced on the rim but careened to the side. “Damn!” Dane said.

Braxton nabbed the rebound, and I backpedaled toward the other basket. He sailed a pass to me over Dane’s head, and I snagged the ball. Dane was on me right away, and I dribbled behind my back to avoid his big paw. Lucia stuck to Maddie too tightly for me to pass to her, and Braxton wasn’t in position yet. However, I saw a sweet lane to the basket. When I drove in for the shot, Dane jumped with me and collided with my right elbow.

Needles of pain shot up my arm but I managed to follow through with the shot, and the ball found net. When I came down, my hand cradled my elbow.

“Alex!” Maddie shouted. She pushed Dane to the side and lifted my T-shirt sleeve to take a look at my scars.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Dane said, his hands splayed open. “Are you okay, man?”

China stood and took a few steps toward me, worry evident on her face. The shaved patch of hair above her forehead hadn’t grown back in all the way yet, making her eyes look bigger.

But Maddie’s warm touch on my sweaty skin had already made me feel better. “Dr. Brooks is on it, guys. Don’t worry.”

Maddie searched my face. “Are you really okay?”

“The surgeon told me the nerves will take some time to heal,” I told her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Come get some lemonade,
niños
,” Mom said. She smiled, but I could hear the tremor in her voice. She was still on edge after the shooting.

To appease her, I said, “Okay, let’s give the other team a break. They’re probably tired of losing.”

“
You’re
the losers,” Lucia said.

Maddie grinned as I poured her a drink.

The fresh-squeezed lemonade went down easy on such a hot day. I had to admit I hadn’t minded eating food prepared by the White House chef the past few months. But I was itching to return to my condo so I could study for boards in peace.

“Alejandro, Alejandro,” sang Mateo, playing a salsa beat on his guitar. He continued, “Fernando…”

I stopped short and looked at China. “
That’s
where you got my code name Fernando? The Lady Gaga song?”

She nodded. “You’re quick, Fernando.”

“And I’m Roberto,” Mateo said, then sang, “Don’t call my name…”

I rolled my eyes.

“What am I?” Lucia asked.

Dane grabbed her. “You’re adorable.” She giggled as he leaned in for a kiss. “And sweaty,” he added.

“You sweat
way
more than I do.” She pushed him toward one end of the court with a smirk.

Maddie and Braxton had drifted to the other end of the court. I had an idea what they were discussing: visiting their mother in Wisconsin. Maddie wanted to go before she left for Europe, but Braxton was still waffling. I noticed Mom sneaking glances their way as she pretended to listen to Mateo’s song.

After meeting Maddie’s mother and learning about Maddie’s own struggle with depression, Mom had identified her platform as first lady: mental health. She’d already started planning an education program for the upcoming school year, in collaboration with the National Alliance for Mental Illness.

Mateo continued strumming the guitar as he shifted into another Lady Gaga song. I brought my glass of lemonade closer to Dad, and we watched him play for a few minutes.

“I can’t believe my youngest is almost done with high school,” Dad said. “Mateo sure grew up fast.”

I nodded. “That
is
weird he’ll be looking at colleges soon. But he’s still a snarky teenager.”

“He has his moments. He’s a sensitive kid, more sensitive than most. Probably helps him as a musician.”

Holy hell, did my younger brother just sing about riding a
disco stick?
I glanced at Dad but he hadn’t seemed to catch the reference. “I hope he finds a girl to take care of his sensitive heart,” I said.

“It’s probably just a matter of time. If he’s like his older siblings, that is.”

We watched Lucia gaze up at Dane, her eyes lit up like firecrackers as she laughed at something he said.

Dad slumped. “My children are growing up—they don’t need me anymore. I feel old.”

“You’re not old.”

“You try playing against twenty year olds when you’re almost fifty, and you’ll see how it feels.”

I chuckled.

He turned to me with a measured gaze. “What do you see for your future when you’re my age?” His dark eyes bored into me. “What do you want, Alejandro?”

I swallowed. “I want to marry Maddie.”

“I gathered that already.”

I smiled. “And three kids would be nice.” I stared at the soft curve of Maddie’s hips.

Dad’s eyebrow lifted. “This should be good—you with three screaming children. What goes around, comes around. And what about your career? Or do you plan to be a stay-at-home dad to all these children?”

I grinned. “Oh right, my career.” My smile faded. “I think I want to be an orthopedic surgeon.” I gauged his reaction. “I’ll do a sports medicine fellowship after residency, so I can work with athletes. Help them through their injuries.”

“That sounds perfect for you.” Dad nodded. “So you’ll be done with your training at age forty, then.”

I laughed. “Just before that, I hope.”

However long it took, I knew it would fly by with Maddie at my side. I turned to see her hand cover her mouth as Braxton spoke to her. She must have felt my stare because she turned and smiled. She said something to her brother, then headed toward me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“Looks like a bright future for you, son.” Dad patted my shoulder.

I know
. Her smile lit up my world.

“Mr. President?” Dad’s chief of staff had materialized on the court, and Dad went to speak to him as Maddie reached my side.

“You look happy,” I said.

She clasped my hand. “Brax just told me Dad might have a girlfriend.”

“Really? He moves fast.”

“Yeah, it only took him twenty years.” She nudged her shoulder into mine, and I smiled.

“Twenty years is nothing.” I leaned in and whispered, “I want to love you for a lifetime,
corazón
.”

Her eyes gleamed. When she kissed me, I felt her love flowing into me, filling my heart.

Excerpt from upcoming sequel

Excerpt from book three,
Spiked
,
coming late 2016

1. Jessica

T
HE
S
TALE
O
DOR
O
F
S
PILLED
B
EER
and unwashed laundry assaulted me as I walked down the humid hallway, confused by the blown-up Disney images of Elsa, Anna, and Olaf lining the dorm walls. Was this a university or a preschool?

Next to me, Mom wrinkled her nose. “I wish Highbanks had placed you in one of their newer dorms.”

“No, this is perfect,” Dad said, behind me. We’d piled my stuff into a cart that he now pushed, and it was difficult to hear him over the squeaking wheels. “The quintessential college experience: fifties architecture, no air conditioning.”

I pursed my lips. Why had I wanted my parents to stay together again? They disagreed on everything.

“Guys,” I said, “we already went over this. Canfield Hall is where most of the freshman swimmers live, ’cause it’s close to the pool.” I rolled my wheeled suitcase to a stop in front of room 220.

From our online chats over the summer, I knew my roommate had planned to arrive on campus yesterday. She’d said she’d need time to adjust to a new time zone. Australia was a long ways away. I knocked on our door, but there was no answer. A thrill zinged up my spine when I extracted my key from my pocket.
My new home
. The key signified freedom and fun.

When the door opened, the contrast between the two halves of the room startled me. My side was ugly, sterile, plain. Mackenzie’s exploded with color and energy. She’d lofted her bed frame to provide more space, and posters of shirtless men covered every centimeter of wall below and above the mattress. A fan on her desk rotated, pulsing the warm air.

“Well.” Mom set down her handbag and approached a muscled sportsman with a critical eye. Despite the heat, she looked perfectly put together in a pale pink silk blouse, black pencil skirt, and beige pumps. “Alex Rance, Richmond Tigers,” she read. “From the AFL. What’s that?”

“Australian Football League.” I heaved my suitcase onto the naked mattress. A bead of sweat slid down my spine. “Mackenzie’s a huge sports fan. She wants to become Australia’s equivalent of Erin Andrews.”

“Who?” Dad asked.

“She’s an ESPN reporter,” Mom said, her eyes still on the poster. “I met her once at a fundraiser.” As a US senator, Mom attended plenty of those. “We discussed the challenges of working as a woman in a man’s world.”