Page 9 of Love me, Maddie Mendoza

It was just a little click. It was nothing, I said to myself.

But it all just took a second. The click was my right knee; the pain radiated up like rope on fire. I stopped mid-action and the world itself paused.

I felt a presence on my back. I couldn’t know if it was Torres of someone else, but I lunged forwards. Why? I stepped, clicked, and lunged. For someone who prides himself on perfection, my last three actions were anything but.

I fell with a loud thump on the ground. A terrifying scream filled the court, chasing away the cheers. It was only when Matt arrived crouching beside me that I realized the scream was coming from my lips.It was me who was terrified.

“Don’t move!” Matt pleaded.

On my right, the ball bounced away from my outstretched fingers. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands going to my knee like I could hold it together by sheer determination. I was stronger than that, wasn’t I? I could finish the game. It was just a goddamn click!

The thoughts piled on in the space of a second. Underwater, that was how it felt. I couldn’t hear anyone. I couldn’t understand what was happening around me.

“Don’t fucking move, King.” It was a growl from someone that wasn’t Matt anymore. I blinked, trying to find the new voice. It called me again. “Don’t fucking move, I said.”

Coach Ford. His face came to light, a tight expression I never saw on him before. His eyes traced my face, and then he looked away like he couldn’t look me in the eye.

Why couldn’t he?

I choked, emotions rolling through me in unwelcome waves. I wanted to flee the scene, but I was told to remain still.

“I can play,” I gritted through my teeth. A lie.

“Don’t fucking move.” Matt repeated Coach Ford’s words.

I gave him a stiff nod. I wasn’t a child. A small tear could turn into something worse if you tried to be the hero. Steps went around me. I heard the coach talking above my head, but I couldn’t make out the words. Language ceased to exist. I only understood pain and fear.

A mass of curls arrived, obstructing my view. She crouched beside me, her hands on my face as she scanned for something.

“It’s ok.” I told her when she wouldn’t let me go. “I’m fine.” Neither of us believed my lie.

“It’s too dramatic,” Maddie said like we were in the middle of a conversation and I missed the start.

“What is?” I croaked out.

“Basketball. When we were little, you asked me why I didn’t want you to play.”

Against all odds, I smiled. Yeah, Maddie made an extensive list of reasons I shouldn’t start on the team. None of them were good enough, though. I still wholeheartedly played as quickly as any team would have me.

“Get out of the way, Ms. Mendoza.” Coach Ford demanded from above.

Maddie didn’t even wince at his tone. She wasn’t easily intimidated.

“I can’t deal with the drama, Z,” she whispered. “Be ok for me, yeah?”

I nodded, even though I never lied to Maddie.

She always got her way. But I wasn’t sure this time around would be that simple.

“One more.”

“No.”

“Come on!”

“Leave me alone.” I said like a petulant child, but my words had no bite.

We watched each other with wary eyes. Her perky stance annoyed the shit out of me. Maddie's fingers reached for my right leg again. I huffed but let her take my leg into her hands, letting her slide toward me in an exercise we practiced too many times.

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