Page 44 of Survival

I shook my head and lowered my tone, needing him to hear me. “You’re kissing it goodbye by trying too damn hard. Quit trying to show me and everyone else up. You’re a fucking ball hog out there, and no scout is going to want to add a guy to a team if he can’t playwitha team. Justplay the game, and they’ll see that you’re good because youaregood. You’re the best player out there after me when you get out of your head.”

Mateo just scowled, and I rolled my eyes as I stood.Can’t say I didn’t try.“That’s my advice. Take it or leave it, but, so far, your method doesn’t seem to be working.” I gestured to the bench. “So, maybe it won’t hurt if you try mine.”

I walked off then, leaving Mateo stewing, and went to join the rest of my team in the huddle before the next half.

“So nice of you to join us, Pierce. I’m sure your teammates are thrilled to see that you’re taking an interest in the game.”

“Sorry, Coach.” I held back a wince.

“Well, isn’t that just peachy for the rest of us? Now, since you’re through playing mommy and kissing Sanchez’s booboos, here’s what we’re gonna do…”

I brushed the sarcasm off as Coach started his pep talk, knowing I had to get my head back in the game, and Mateo joined us a minute later, focus and determination replacing the frustration in his demeanor.

“Hands in,” Coach directed.

“Go! Fight! Hustle! Win!” we yelled before running back out onto the court, and just like in the first half, my adrenaline pumped, fueling me as I raced back and forth down the court, but the other team had picked up their game and our lead was slowly slipping, the pressure of trying to pick up the slack falling on my shoulders.

Coach called for a timeout, giving us a chance to revamp, but when I heard the assistant coach tell the others to get the ball to me as much as possible, I was pissed.It wasn’t a fucking one-man show, but sure enough, the ball made it over to me as soon as it was back in play, and when my teammates fell back, I knew it was on me.

I raced down the court, dodging other players, and I made two more baskets before one of the other team’s players came out and managed to glue himself to me in a way I couldn’t shake. I turned and backed into him, inching my way to the basket as I looked for someone to pass the ball to, for one of my teammates to step up, but no one was open.

Pivoting right then left, I managed to hold the guy at bay along with my frustration. I hated it when a coach told the team to rely on me like this. It was like code to the other guys to back off and let me handle the show, five against one.

Get the fuck over it and deal.Stewing wasn’t going to help anything. Keeping my mind in the game would. Finding my zone would.

Focusing on my surroundings, I searched for a loophole, needing just a few inches of space. The guy behind me seemed to favor my right side, so I faked a move that direction and darted to the left instead, stepping around and jumping to make the shot. My eyes stayed on the ball, but I didn’t get the chance to see if it went in. Something jabbed hard into my stomach, sending air gushing from my lungs as I went flying backwards onto the floor of the court, straight into another player’s legs.

The guy lost balance from the impact and stepped back, directly onto my fucked up hand. I yelled as my fingers screamed and yanked them from under the other guy’s foot, throwing off his balance again. He toppled overme, managing to knee me in the stomach as he crashed to the ground.

Whistles blew, and the crowd roared in outrage as the refs rushed in to clear the scene. I was doubled over, clutching my fist as I struggled for air. It took me a minute before I could breathe enough to make it over to the sidelines, and I watched from my spot on the bench as the guy that had jabbed his elbow into my gut got reamed out by the coach on the other team.

Pulled from the game, the guy sat on the bench once his coach was done yelling and looked over at me. I glared at him for taking a cheap shot just to get me out, but he just smirked with a shrug before looking away.

What the actual fuck?!I was fuming, barely registering as the trainers looked me over, removing the tape from my knuckles to inspect my hand.

Coach Larson hovered nearby, waiting for their verdict. If his star couldn’t play, he’d have to replace him, and Ineededback in. This was the game I’d worked up to for years, maybe even my last high school one ever. My lungs burned, air still struggling to get through, and my knuckles throbbed. I winced when one of the trainers pressed against them.

“Well?” Coach asked.

The trainer that had my hand looked up. “Nothing’s broken. He can play, but I’d let him sit out a bit. His breathing is still off, and it wouldn’t hurt to ice his hand.”

Coach nodded and looked over at the players he had left on the bench. All I felt was relief that I wasn’t fully pulled.

“Put me in, Coach!” Mateo jumped up. “I’ve got this!”

“Yeah, I’ve seen how you’ve got this tonight, Sanchez. Sit back down.”

“No, really. I’ve got it under control now. Let me play,” he pleaded, standing tall and staring Coach straight in the eye, determination covering his features.

Coach hesitated.

“He’s got it, Coach! Let him play,” I called out, sucking in a gasp of air.

Coach looked between us, assessing, before he finally nodded. “Alright. Get in there! Prove me wrong!”

Mateo bounded out onto the court, but I caught his wrist as he passed. “Just play the game.” He nodded, running out to join our team.

Izzy caught my gaze as the game got back underway, surprising me at the level of concern across that beautiful face, and I gave her a reassuring smile, letting her know not to worry. I wouldn’t be out for long. She gave me a small one back, and I felt my tension start to ease as I watched hers do the same.

---