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I hope I didn’t ruin sixteen years of friendship.
Devon throws me a wide-open dunk, and I don’t see it. Just watch it sail over the rim, thinking about my best friend who’s basically ignored me for days, complaining that she needs to study and train.
Coach Cappitano blows his whistle. “What the fuck was that, Greathouse?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, Coach.”
“Get your head in the game.”
“Yes, sir.” But Lettie is still in the forefront of my mind. She’ll be gone training and competing for the next month, so her professors have provided her work in advance.
It’s not how I thought our senior year would start—with a nonexistent kiss and our good morning texts. Usually, Lettie and I go to Winchell’s after the first Monday of class to eat lunch, then to see a movie and a trip to our favorite ice cream shop, Nibbles, where they mix in little pieces of your favorite candy into the ice cream.
Instead, it ends with Hannah texting, asking me out on a date. I decline, not wanting to give her the wrong idea. She seems to buy the excuse of having to concentrate on basketball. The fans have high expectations for the Stallions basketball team, and I can’t afford to have a down year. My life goals are wrapped up in this season.
If I would have put my name in the proverbial hat for the NBA draft, I was projected to go in the top twenty. Two reasons keep me in college. Lettie and my dad’s campaign. Well, my reason is Lettie. My dad’s reason is less romantic, needing me to help him win the senate campaign.
Being the captain, after practice, I wind through the halls to the coach's office. Tapping on the door, he waves me inside. After a few seconds, he hangs up the phone.
“I just wanted to apologize for getting lost in practice today. It won’t happen again.”
“Dane…” He pauses. Coach leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees and rubbing his fingers together. “You don’t have to be perfect, but you do have to be paying attention. Is your dad’s campaign weighing on you?”
I lift my shoulders and let them fall quickly.
“You do know that it’s his job to get elected, not yours. Your job is to play basketball and make grades.”
As much as I want the full story between my dad and Coach, I realize he’s a great coach and cares about me, so I say, “Yes, sir.”
He blows out a breath. “How are things at The Stable? It seems the guys are pissed off at Nick. Is he fighting over someone’s girl?”
I know the question is directed at me about Lettie. She’s come to several of the unofficial practices where we scrimmage each other, so even the new coaching staff knows her.
“No, sir. He made an ass out of himself at Timber Thrills, but he apologized to the team.”
He nods. “Well, let’s not let girls distract us this season. We have all the pieces for a national championship, and I would hate for that to get derailed before the season starts… over a girl.”
I’m fairly sure he's alluding to Lettie like there’s some love triangle going on between us. There’s no triangle. I love Lettie, and Lettie loves me, just not the way I want. Nick isn’t even in the same conversation.
“No worries, Coach.”
“Get out of here. I changed practice to Saturday morning. I know you have an important campaign event that night.”
“Thanks.” I’m my dad’s big draw right now and wish I weren’t. What I need is to fix what I’ve broken.
Coach’s phone rings, and he waves me out with his hand.
I go back into the practice gym and call Lettie, getting her voicemail.
“Hey, just wanted to make sure you’re still attending the campaign event with me on Saturday. Can’t wait. I’ve missed you this week.”
Grabbing a ball from the bin, I shoot twenty-five shots starting in the left corner, going 17 for 25. I move around the three-point line, hitting about the same average all the way around the horn. I’m the only one here, trying to work out my shit. But what seems to help the most is driving down the court, crossing over, before throwing down a monster dunk.
“You’re My Best Friend” by Queen, which is Lettie’s ringtone, sounds, so I tuck the ball under my arm and jog over to the phone.
“Hi,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Hey, ummm… I don’t have anything to wear to the fundraiser, and I need to study,” Lettie’s voice trails off, and I know what she’s going to say.
