Hoops and Dreams

[31.1] The coach doesn't play

"This is a bad idea."

"Yeah and you've reminded us all of that for the entire drive down here," I spit back.

"Because it's a bad idea!" Micah says.

We stare at each other. Him frowning at me from the front passenger seat and me glaring at him from behind the driver's side. The fact that he gets to sit in front is a point of contention for me but he called shotgun. And if there's anything I respect in this world it's shotgun.

I look back down at the notebook I'm scrawling down offensive plays into. I try to think back to what I know about Marco as a player. Tall, incredibly quick on his feet with a strong throw from his left arm. Nothing I've jotted down during the course of the day can effectively outplay him. But if all goes according to plan then it doesn't have to.

I flip my pencil and use the nub at the end to erase the arrow I've drawn.

"Mmmh, that's not going to work." Sam leans down and points a finger at the crosses moving in from the left corner of the page. "You'd never cut through their defense like that. Their no. 11 won't let you through."

"Well, no. Not unless you pass and double back around him."

"No one moves that fast. I wouldn't even make that shot."

"Yes. You can. Would you just let me work on this for a bit?"

He scoffs, "White girl thinks she knows basketball. Cute."

"Oh come on, you wouldn't know a good offensive play if it crawled up your—"

"We're here," Darnell announces putting the Tesla into park and switching off the engine.

It isn't hard to tell by now that the car ride thus far has been packed with tension. Everyone's mad at me even though they half-heartedly agreed to help. And I'm irritated that no one will leave me alone for five minutes to work on our strategy. It's a network of misdirected anger and annoyance. It doesn't matter that if this goes well, we're practically off the hook for everything. Every few minutes Micah still shoots me death glares and Darnell raises a questioning eyebrow.

But I ignore them, if I ever needed time to think without distractions now would be it.

I'm the last to step out of the car as I have to shove my pencil back into my tote bag. Even though we're technically skipping basketball practice I still have my sports kit on me. Call it an old habit dying hard.

The address Marco sent me doesn't match up with the location we're at now. Since this game violates several of the junior basketball league rules, it can't be held on school grounds. Instead, we're in a public park a few miles away from the suburbs. In a less well-served community. You can tell from the run-down chain fence, the vandalized sidewalks, and the overflowing trashcans.

That much I expected.

What doesn't bode well is the crowd. The basketball court is packed with people. In the stands on, on the actual court. There's even a truck parked a few steps away. Tijuana's food truck is dishing out what looks like healthy helpings of Mexican food. We can smell the spicy chilies and sizzling ground beef from all the way in the parking lot. Reminding me that I skipped lunch to furiously triple text Marco and design more plays.

It also helps me realize that Marco decided to invite a crowd to our game. We'd be playing for an audience.

"Great," Micah says, "A crowd to witness first hand our crushing defeat at the hands of seniors."

"That's the spirit," Darnell mumbles.

As we walk closer to the court, Marco weaves his way around the crowd and makes a beeline for us. He's balancing a slushy in one hand.