Page 1 of Don't Let Go

1

Tyler

Blood.

Blood dripped onto the shiny wood floor, and the LED lights reflected in the growing scarlet pool. A few people gasped when the basketball impacted Malik’s face. He always had butterfingers, and if he cost us this game…

A whistle blew as Coach Jackson rushed to Malik’s side with a rag. “Pinch your nose. It’ll help stop the bleeding.”

Malik gave the crowd a thumbs-up as he stumbled to the sidelines. People clapped like he had just done something amazing.

“Calm down,” my best friend, Quincy, muttered as he stood beside me. “You know the guy’s a ham.”

“If he wasn’t the coach’s nephew, you know he’d never be on this team.”

“Keep your damn head in the game. We gotta win this.” He nodded toward his cheerleader girlfriend. “You know the ladies love winners.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I waved him off.

After a quick mop-up of the blood, the game resumed with one minute left on the clock.

We have to win this game to advance to the championships.

The gym fell under a hush after I stole the basketball from the other team. My heart pounded in my skull while the ball bounced underneath my hand as I ran down the court.

An opponent tried to cut me off as he towered over me with his arms, ready to steal the ball back. The guy was well over seven feet tall—a perfect wall for my defeat. I stopped dribbling and had five seconds to decide whether my move won or lost the game. I could either shoot from where I stood, a mere nine yards away from the basket, or I could chance tossing the ball to Quincy, who had a guy covering his every move like a fly on honey.

Screw it.

I jumped as high as possible without a running start and shot the ball forward.

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Senator!”

I looked over and froze.

My father slipped inside quietly. Nice to see he finally made it to a game when it was over. The man never came to my games. I take that back—he came to my games when I played in grade school, but since he became a state senator five years ago, he never made an appearance. At least not until tonight.

The buzzer sounded, cheers echoed off the walls, and fans stomped their feet in the bleachers. The announcer yelled, “That’s it! The Lincoln Mountain Lions have won the game!”

My teammates gathered around, smacking me on the back while smiles flashed on their sweaty faces. It took my brain amoment to realize what happened. I made the shot. We won the game.

But my attention fell on my father again. He clapped his hands along with the crowd and gave me a nod of approval.

I wanted to make my way over to him, but we had to line up and high-five the other team for a good game. Rules were rules.

Iron Gate High mean-mugged us as we shook hands before leaving the floor for our locker rooms. I couldn’t blame them. We knocked them out from qualifying for the state championship. Iron Gate High and Lincoln High were neck and neck with stats, but now we were in the top five. We planned to finish this season strong and bring home another trophy for our impressive glass case. Since football season had been over for a while, boys’ basketball had taken over Lincoln High. After this game, we’d be top dogs. Anything we touched would turn to gold.

My team hollered our fight song as we ran past the cheerleaders. Quincy went out of his way to run past his girlfriend, Jessica, who giggled and waved one of her blue pom-poms at him.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching my father shake hands with another man and lean in to talk privately. I bet the guy was another voter that my father felt the need to impress with his speeches and promises for a better Arizona.

Of course, my father had to find an opportunity to talk politics. He finally showed up to a game, ended up being super late, and then turned around and made it all about his career—a classic James Winston move.

I shook my head and followed my team into the locker room.

Our coach’s assistant, Levi, was in his usual spot in front of the locker room door. He high-fived us as we ran inside to shower and change.

My blood boiled. I couldn’t enjoy this win with my father out there gaining more fucking votes because he always had to think of the next election.

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