Page 80 of Courtside

But even though she felt the pieces of herself returning to their previous equilibrium, there was something different. Seeing Evan had opened up something that she’d previously ignored, something that she’d had to walk away from in order to survive.

That final year of basketball — her senior year — was supposed to be the culmination of something. It was supposed to be the crowning achievement of a career that had started when she was just seven years old, as well as what opened the door to playing at the next level — playing in college.

Evan had been her coach for four years at that point. He’d been young, charismatic, and passionate, and had her entire team hanging on to every word he said.

Sage had set herself apart with her skill and her work ethic, willingly devoting all of herself to basketball, spending every minute of her spare time at the gym. It helped that she’d been tall from a young age — hitting her full height in eighth grade.

Of course she’d developed a crush on Evan. All of them had. The boys around them had acne and hadn’t hit their growth spurts yet. Evan was tall and handsome and drove a new car. What she hadn’t expected was for him to take an interest in her. And when he had, it was a teenage fantasy come to life.

She’d been a sophomore in high school when he first started asking her to stay after practice. Extra drills turned into long, heart-felt conversations and offers of a ride home. He complimented her, while still challenging her to get better. He continuously raised the bar, and Sage chased his praise with a rabid need to earn his approval.

She would have done anything he asked.

The first time he leaned over the center console and kissed her in the darkness, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. This man wantedher. He was choosing her.

It escalated from there. She bailed on friends and teammates to meet him in his car. Sometimes he’d take them to a motel, and on those nights she felt even more special. She kept playing, getting better and better. Coming out of her sophomore year, the dream of a college scholarship didn’t seem like too far of a reach. Her high school coach, who she’d always respected, encouraged her to keep working and focus on staying healthy.

And then that summer, the diet had started. Evan convinced her that it would give her an edge over the other girls her age. That was combined with cardio workouts on the track, running and running until she had to limp back to her car, weak with exhaustion.

She lost weight. Years of hard-earned muscle practically melted away. All the while, Evan reassured her:You’re getting faster. You’ll be able to be more dynamic. You can become a guard and you can score more.

Sage never thought to doubt him. Why would she? He’d chosen her, and had believed in her from the beginning.

And then they’d gone to tournaments in the summer, and everyone expected college coaches to come watch her. She’d tried to be humble about it, but she’d expected it too.

But they didn’t come.

She worked harder, pushed herself beyond what was healthy, because thathadto be the reason. She must not have been good enough.

The pattern carried on. The summer season passed, and she’d played well enough, but not nearly as well as had been expected. Her high school coach began to express concern about her weight loss, and when Sage reported that to Evan, he’d brushed off the comments as a lack of understanding. He was training her to be an elite athlete, something her other coach could never understand.

Fast forward to her senior season. No college coaches had called. Her relationship with her high school coach had fractured, driven by distrust and Sage’s disregard for her input. Basketball, which for years had been the greatest love of her life, had become something she dreaded.

Her eighteenth birthday was at the end of January. Evan had told her repeatedly that as soon as she turned eighteen, they’d be together. They’d stop hiding away in his car and sneaking into motel rooms. He’d told her that the girlfriend who he lived with was just a placeholder while he waited for her.

Fuck, she’d been naive. Her birthday had come and gone, and nothing changed. Evan withdrew, claiming to be busy or otherwise occupied, and Sage was left with the ruins of a final basketball season, playing a sport she hated, surrounded by teammates she’d alienated years ago, faced with an empty future.

Choosing Southeastern had been a welcome relief. She couldn’t stand to stay in Santa Barbara, where her failures haunted her wherever she went.

She missed her tenth shot in a row.

Letting out a sharp, frustrated exhale, Sage chased after the ball and then paused, looking up at the basket. She stared at the vivid orange rim until the image began to blur.

She inhaled. Held it in until the pressure in her lungs ached. Exhaled.

The next shot went in. She chased down the ball, dribbling out to the wing before setting up again, her palms sliding easily over the leather before her finger found one of the seams.

That shot went in, and then the next. All of her focus was on the net in front of her, her body reacting to the exact bounce and roll of the ball each time it dropped through the net. She settled into an almost meditative state, quiet except for the squeak of her shoes on the hardwood and her heavy breathing as she moved around the court.

The gym around her was silent, and her mind quieted.

Sage had no idea how much time had passed before she brought the endless cycle of shoot, dribble out, shoot, dribble out, to a stop. She had to catch her breath; her shirt was wet with sweat and her face was hot, flushed from exertion.

There was a distinct calm that always settled over her when she walked away from the court, unlacing her shoes and peeling off her sweaty socks. And today, with that calm came the feeling that she’d picked up the broken pieces and put herself back together. Maybe, she was whole again.

* * *

“Sage!”

---