Carter Miller, is a freshman at UNC. Attempting to run away from her small town in New Hampshire with her best friend Tori by her side isn't as easy as she suspected. With family troubles and her own, she has enough trouble already. That is until sh...
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I blink away the sweat dripping into my eyes focusing on the play Coach called. My head has been completely fucked all damn day. The whistle blows and Michael tosses the ball against the backboard. I make my move to receive the rebound with Robbie as a guard. The ball meets my fingertips and I am about to pivot to shoot but trip up. The ball slips through my fingers. Jeremy takes it with some hesitation as the whistle blows again. I groan loudly throwing my head back.
I can't get this fucking play right.
"Fletcher, where's your head?" Coach asks with arms crossed. I shake my head at him taking another breath of air. He studies me again before speaking, "Suicides until I say stop."
I can feel the tension running through the entire practice gym. I have fucked up one too many times for Coach's liking and now the whole team has to pay for it. Jeremy rolls the ball to the side as we all jog to the end of the court.
"Pull it the fuck together," Robbie says. I roll my eyes at him even though I know he's right. My so called father should never be in my head. I know this yet here I am letting him get to my head.
Fuck, does he know how to piss me off.
My Father has no idea what I plan to do with the NBA and that drives him crazy. He wants to know just so he can have more money off of me. The only reason I give him any is because of my Mom.
The team posts up at the end of the court ready to run again. The entire practice I have been fucking up and I hate that. I am never off my game but I can't seem to get out of my head today. Coach blows the whistle and we start our long grueling suicides. My lungs and legs are tight a telltale sign that I am going to be sore tomorrow. We have been running all damn practice and I don't think Coach is stopping us anytime soon.
Especially if we don't get the play rightX
He finally makes us stop, five minutes before practice is over. Multiple freshmen have thrown up. Trey is honestly looking like he's right behind them. We all are exhausted and ready for this hell practice to be over. Coach is surveying us one by one. He glances harshly at me before turning around and heading into the locker room.
Fuck, that's never good.
I know I fucked up today's practice. That kills me. Basketball is how I release my stress and all the bullshit with my Father. Now, he's even fucking that up too.
"You guys go, I'll meet you at home," I tell the boys as they walk to the bench. They nod their heads in response. I grab a basketball and start shooting threes. If anything can get my mind away from something it is basketball. Well, it's supposed to be basektball.
Everyone clears the court and I am alone. Nothing but me and the basketball hitting against the wooden panels on the floor. I go to shoot another ball. The ball hits the backboard and bounces back to me. I reach out my hand and catch it.
