One Last Shot

chapter ten: an insane plan

• • •
Noah

     I don't have many pictures of me as a kid. My dad was never one to try and capture 'special' moments between the two of us, and I'm sure that's pretty damn easy when there never really was any to begin with. Honestly I have no problem with not having any, I'm not one to be sentimental in that way, pictures don't always capture the memory anyway.

Everett's parents have a picture of the two of us in 10th grade framed on the mantle of their fireplace. It's next to a bunch of other family photos of them all. It's a nice gesture, they always point it out when they have those big cheesy Christmas parties to their friends. The picture is us hugging right after the semi final game that season. We have these huge fucking grins on our faces, our hair all messy and uniforms both drenched with sweat, and it's just us, my brother and I, highlighted and the rest of the world around us becoming a fucking blur.

But like I said, pictures can be fucking deceiving.

That specific game was to determine if we would make it to the final basketball championship game, and our team was fighting to win that second place spot. Our stats were tied with our rival team for second at that point, so if we won we would be ranked second in conference and moved to the championship and if we lost we would get third and our season would come to an end.

The game was neck and neck the whole time. We came out with a strong offensive, but slacked the second half of the game, which unfortunately allowed the opposite team to sneak their way in and catch up. It was the fourth and final quarter and we were down by three, with 30 seconds left and the ball in our possession, it was now or never. We passed the ball between each other, waiting for the right moment to shot. With only a few seconds left, Everett lobbed me the ball and I raised my arm up to shot a three at the final second.

     The ball hit the rim, slid off, and missed. I lost the championship for my team.

     Obviously the team was fucking pissed while our opponents all jumped on each other and celebrated their win. I stood there frozen, my feet plastered to the gym floor. I couldn't believe that I missed my fucking speciality in the game I was devoted to more than anything. I ruined it for my team and I could tell as they all glared at me and hung their heads in defeat.

     Everybody but Everett. Instead he came up to me and gave me a shove to knock me out of my trance. When I zoned back to reality, we looked at each other in the eyes for what felt like minutes before we burst out laughing and he encased me in a hug.

     "Well shit dude. I really fucked my big moment didn't I?" I said, hugging him close. Our bodies sticking together from the buckets of sweat we formed.

     "Yeah Hayes." He patted my back consoling me. "You messed up pretty fucking bad there buddy."

     "My dad is literally going to slit my throat for this one." I laughed.

     He pulled away from the hug but continued to grasp onto my shoulders. "Oh yeah for sure. I'll be planning your funeral by tomorrow." We both let out insanely loud ridiculous laughs and once we settle from them he speaks up again. "Oh well. Funeral plans are for tomorrow. Tonight is for drinking."

     And fuck yeah we did. When I arrived home I was met with my dad waiting for me by the door. He didn't yell at me that night, no that conversation would be for the morning and the next morning and the next and so, it would be something he would never let up. But that night he just looked at me disappointedly and shook his head, before going to his room and not saying a word to me. As soon as he went to sleep, Everett drove over bringing a case of beer and a bottle of bourbon, which he most definitely had to buy off of an upperclassman, and we went outside and drank till we could drink anymore.