Chapter 7

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Rachel’s days were consumed by basketball and school. Her commitment to basketball included fall and spring leagues in addition to the winter season with Eastbrook’s practices and games. Her hours outside of a gymnasium were spent at home catching up on sleep, doing homework, or hanging out with Brent. She rarely had time for friends or family, but Rachel didn’t mind her hectic schedule; she liked being busy, and she loved playing basketball. She wished she hadn’t drifted away from her friends, but she understood her commitment to basketball meant giving up free time with friends and a “normal” high school life of parties.   

But Rachel did have Lillie. Lillie Gable was Rachel’s closest friend; she was a year younger than Rachel. Rachel and Lillie played together on a tournament basketball team for the past four years and now on the Eastbrook squad together.

Lillie was a starter on the junior varsity team and had played as a guard most of her life. She had hit her growth spurt in the last year, catapulting her three inches between grades eight and nine, and she was now 5’10” and still adjusting to her newfound height. She was left-handed, had a beautiful three-point shot, and could handle the ball extremely well for her height. Lillie was on the verge of being a breakout player; she simply needed more time and practice with good competition. 

The friendship between Rachel and Lillie blossomed during the many basketball games they played together. Rachel was drawn to Lillie’s outgoing personality—she was the opposite of Rachel—but the love of the game drew them close, and their differences in personality kept the friendship grounded. Lillie was one of the most popular girls on the team despite being a freshman. She loved being the center of attention and always had a smile on her face. She cracked jokes and made people laugh; she spent her weekends party hopping with upperclassman. And somehow, in the midst of basketball, parties, and boyfriends, Lillie and Rachel always made time for each other. 

Lillie invited Rachel over to her house after school before the second basketball game; they would work on homework and share dinner before the game. Lillie lived a few minutes from the school, whereas Rachel lived twenty minutes away. After a half hour of homework, Lillie closed her math book and started making dinner: a grilled chicken salad, the perfect light dinner before a game. Lillie moved effortlessly through the kitchen, cooking chicken and chopping vegetables.

“Do you cook often?” Rachel asked, putting her homework away.

“Almost every day,” she said. 

“What about your mom or dad?”

“My mom doesn’t like to cook and doesn’t get home till late most days. My dad is a good cook but is away on business most of the weekdays. So I end up doing most of the cooking,” Lillie said. Rachel had met Lillie’s father several times over the years at basketball events, but rarely saw her mother, who was a nurse at a local hospital and worked long hours. 

“I guess I am spoiled by Nana being home all day and cooking. One of the benefits of being raised by your grandparents.” Looking at the photographs of Lillie’s family in the dining room, Rachel realized she would have a hard time recognizing Lillie’s mother if she ever ran into her. Lillie had long brown hair to go with her height, but her mom was short and stocky with a pixie haircut. 

“It would be nice to have my dad home all the time.” Lillie paused, and a look of guilt broke across her face. “I’m sorry, Rachel, I didn’t think about what I was saying. I should be lucky that my dad’s around at all.”

“It’s okay. No worries,” said Rachel. “Are you ready for tonight?”

The game that day would be against Auburn High School. Eastbrook was expected to win big, but Rachel and Lillie knew the dangers of a predicted blowout. The predicted victor can become careless, and the team doesn’t play their best basketball. The underdog sticks around in the game until all of a sudden they make a big play. The momentum shifts, and an upset occurs. The Badgers were determined to not let that happen.

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