Page 43 of Don't Let Go

It sounded like I would be joining a cult. I didn’t want Paolo to be my teammate, regardless of how much I missed the game and the roar of the crowd.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know, Coach Grant.”

He patted my shoulder. “Sleep on it and let me know Monday, alright, son?”

I nodded.

“We have practice tomorrow so if you join, bring something to wear. I’ll arrange to get you a proper uniform before the next game.” He strolled off to wherever he came from.

I walked to lunch and got my burger and fries fast since everyone was already halfway through their food.

Do I want to join South Ridge’s team? Help them to the finals?

Lost in my thoughts, I forgot about the fry I put in the ketchup. It was soaked and soggy when I shoved it into my mouth and took another bite from my burger. It was hard to eat with a growing knot in my stomach.

Three guys approached my table. If I remember right their names were Bryce, Christian, and James. People enjoyed saying their names when talking about past games. This school didn’t have much breaking news.

They were all tall, and for a moment, they towered over me. Did they wanna fight? I was about to stand when they took a seat at my table. I clenched my jaw, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I thought I could place the black guy sitting across from me, Bryce something, from the game. He could run the court pretty fast and did some sneaky passes.

“What’s up?” I asked, breaking the silence. I needed them to stop staring at me like I was an alien.

Did they want to scare me so I didn’t join their team?

“Coach told us about you,” James replied, reaching across the table to steal a fry from my tray.

I licked ketchup off my thumb. “Yeah? So?”

“We looked up some of your games at Lincoln,” the boy with short brown hair said. He reminded me a little of Justin Timberlake back in the day, but he had more of an athletic build than Justin. I think he was Christian. His nose wrinkled as if he smelled something foul after saying the name of my old stomping grounds.

“What’s the point of you disturbin’ my lunch?” I broke a fry in half and dipped it into the ketchup.

“Our best player is benched if you didn’t catch that in third. We need another player who can get a ton of points in a limited amount of time.” Bryce looked over his shoulder and then leaned in closer. “We need you on our team.”

I glanced around and laughed. “Am I beingPunk’dor somethin’?”

James shook his head. “I’m the team captain, and without a strong player, we’re sunk. We need someone who can kill the scoreboard, and you are one of those players. Don’t you miss it?”

“Of course I miss it,” I said, wiping my salty fingers on my jeans. “Been playin’ ball since I was able to walk.”

Bryce snagged my tray away. “You done?”

I grabbed my soda, taking a quick sip. “Go for it.”

He dug into the rest of my fries like he’d never seen those fried cut potatoes before.

Christian cleared his throat and slapped a piece of paper in front of me. “This is when and where we meet for practice. We hope to see you there.”

They moved to get up.

“Wait.”

They settled back down.

“What about Paolo?” I whispered, stealing a glance behind me for a second. “That guy despises me.”

James hit the table and stood. The others followed suit. “Leave him to me. I’m not going to let him keep us from having a good player and not allow us to finally be in the finals.”

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