Page 84 of Don't Let Go

I nodded, accepting the water.

He looked at Christian as if to have it confirmed. “He’s good,” Christian said.

James looked at me for a second. “Alright. Let’s win this. That trophy is screaming our names!”

Everyone in the locker room howled and banged their locker doors. It’s time my head was in this game. I pounded on my locker and joined in.

We jogged in place, waiting for the South Ridge Mustangs to be called out onto the court. The doors opened fifteen minutes ago. Fans were ready to watch a make-or-break game.

Our team was called. We all ran out in a single file line. Christian stopped me from leaving by holding his arm up. “If you don’t feel like you’re in the right headspace, I get it. Just pass the ball. Don’t try to be a hero and screw this up. Got it?”

The band played our fight song. “I’m good.” Christian nodded and hit my arm. We ran out onto the court. I looked at the bleachers and couldn’t find Rory with the band. Her seat was empty.

The bleachers were full, and excitement radiated from the crowd. A few people were standing by the back walls to get apeek at the game. The gym was divided by colors: black and gold for Lincoln on one side and purple and white for South Ridge on the other. People held banners and posters sporting their school pride. Right off the court were the TV crews.

I scanned the side where Lincoln had their fans and found Iris on the first bleacher in a gold dress with her long legs crossed. In her hands was a glittery sign reading:I love #52. That number belonged to Malik. They deserved each other. They were both backstabbing assholes. Iris leaned over to whisper something into Anne’s ear. Her eyes found me, and she froze. Anne glanced over her shoulder, and she, too, stared at me like I had a second head, but I turned my back on them.

I did a quick scan of South Ridge’s side and found Rory sitting on the bleachers next to her friends. She wore a purple shirt, but that’s where her school spirit ended. Chloe held her hand, but it was more like she was holding a leash, keeping Rory from getting up and running away. Rory looked enraged with her forehead pushed together, a sharp glare that could kill a man, and her lips pulled down into a frown. We locked eyes for a moment. She looked away, using her hair to shield her face.

I couldn’t worry about her right now. I needed to keep my focus on the game.

Lincoln High came out, and South Ridge’s fans booed and someone threw popcorn onto the court. A teacher got up and shouted at the troublemaker.

All I heard was my heart pounding as we stood in our positions. I refused to choke on my pride. I needed to win this for my team and myself so I could prove to the world I wasn’t broken or defeated.

By the flip of a coin, Lincoln got the ball first. The referee took center court and blew his whistle, starting the game. Malik tossed Quincy the ball, and he ducked and weaved his way to the hoop, making the shot.

Damn, that happened fast.

When I got the ball, Quincy blocked me, matching every move I made like he was my shadow. “You’re a damn Mustang now? Fuck, you really have fallen, playing with these trailer trash kids.”

I licked my lips and side-eyed Christian. He was open. “Like being a Mountain Lion is any better? At least here I know who my friends are, and my girl doesn’t cheat on me.”

Quincy looked doubtful. He snorted and continued his jab, “You slingin’ dope now, too?”

I faked moving to the left and leaped to the right, tossing the ball over Quincy’s head to Christian. He caught it and ran down the court, making the perfect shot, nothing but net.

Quincy flared his nostrils, and I laughed, saying, “Dude, you’re off your game. You’re getting rusty.”

Moments later, Quincy hit my shoulder with his hand, trying to steal the ball. The referee blew his whistle, calling it a foul.

Christian hit my arm, nodding toward the basket. “This is where you show them.”

I nodded, walking over to the free-throw line. Lincoln booed, and I heard Iris scream, “Winston, you’re nothing now! Give it up!”

I licked my lips and tuned them out; it was nothing but me and the ball. I jumped up and shot, scoring two points.

It wasn’t long until I was facing off with Malik. He bounced the ball between his hands and spat at me, “Who did you beg to join this crappy team? This school won’t get you into college ball. You’ll be giving me fries when I cruise by McDonald’s.”

I blocked out his voice and watched the rhythm of the basketball bouncing from Malik’s hand back to the floor. I found the flaw and took advantage, stealing the ball, I ran down to the net, scoring more points.

The crowd cheered, chanting, “Go Mustangs!” and “South Ridge!”

I shouldered past Malik. “You forgetI’mthe best, and South Ridge is in the finals right now if you haven’t noticed. Maybe you should take that foot out of your mouth.”

He stared daggers at me, muttering as he jogged back to join his team.

Now, we were tied twenty-seven to twenty-seven at halftime.

---