8

Marcus played hard in practice that afternoon, but he couldn’t seem to find the sweet spot. During warm-up he kept trying his go-to, the three-pointer, but nothing was working. His shots kept clunking off the rim. And then he tried a baseline jumper that soared over the basket completely.

Tyler caught it on the other side. “Air ball!”

“What’s up, superstar?” Taj said. “Lost your touch?”

Taj might have been teasing, but his words stung. Marcus glared at him but secretly worried that he was right. What if that was just a lucky shot the other night? He didn’t want to let the team down—especially not at Districts.

Zac overheard the jab and shot back, “Hey, at least Marcus made the shot when it counted!”

“What are you saying?” Taj’s grin vanished. “That I choked?”

“That’s not what I—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marcus tried to grab his arm to calm him down, but Taj shook him off and stormed away.

The rest of practice, it felt like nothing went right. Marcus couldn’t seem to get the ball moving. Passes that looked totally open led to steals. It was like he had lost all sense of how long it actually took for the ball to get from his hands to another person’s. Every time he thought someone was open, the other side would materialize out of thin air to steal the ball. Or the teammate that he thought was looking for his pass turned out to be moving away from the ball, and Marcus’s pass went right out of bounds.

“Oh, come on! Stay alert,” he yelled at Zac. Zac raised his eyebrows and just stood there looking at him. Marcus flinched and muttered, “Sorry.” He ran to collect the ball himself.

As he came back down the court, he dribbled the ball hard and low, trying to get his emotions in check. He had to show Coach Hunter he could do this. But his passes just weren’t connecting and it felt like even his shooting had gone cold. One time, Tyler stripped the ball away from him as he was dribbling it down the court. Tyler dished it down to Taj, who powered in for a layup.

Coach Hunter just watched quietly from the sidelines. He called out, “Use your pivot!” periodically, when he could see Marcus was feeling trapped. And “Talk to each other!” But he didn’t seem super concerned.

Marcus could feel his anxiety rising. What if I’m not ready to play at Districts? he worried. He’d made one lucky shot, with the advantage of knowing exactly how the defenders were going to play against him. That didn’t mean he knew how to read the court or call the plays. He wished Julio hadn’t gotten hurt. What made Coach think he was ready to start in the tournament? This could turn into a total disaster. He wanted to play, but he didn’t want to let everybody down.

After practice, Marcus texted Simone:

Hey, need to talk to you. Meet me at Pizza Town?

* * *

Marcus spotted Simone in the back of the shop—she had already grabbed their usual booth. He waved the MVP gift certificate in the air. “Whatcha want? I’m buying!”

“Well, all right, big spender.” Simone laughed. “One Sicilian slice for me. Pepperoni.”

“Got it.” Marcus ordered three slices and a couple of sodas.

“So, what’s up?” Simone said as he slid into the booth across from her. The pepperoni smelled amazing. Marcus loved how the edges got all dark and crispy where the cheese hit the edge of the pan. He took a big bite to buy a little time.

How could he explain his dilemma without telling her about the do-over? He’d known Simone forever, but how could she possibly believe his story? He could barely believe it himself.

Marcus chewed, holding his finger up to show that he couldn’t talk yet.

“Come on.” Simone sipped her drink. “What was so urgent you had to send out the bat signal?”

“It’s just . . .” Marcus struggled to figure out what he could safely say. “Coach asked me to start at our next game.”

“Hey, congratulations!” Simone wadded up a napkin and tossed it at him. “See, I knew you could do it.”

“Ha. Maybe you knew. I never did. Anyway, it’s amazing, right? And I thought Taj would be happy for me. But now he’s being a jerk. He’s acting all mad at me. I can’t help it that I played well and he didn’t!”

Simone said, “Mm-hmm.”

“What?” Marcus shifted in his seat.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” She leaned forward. “Taj gets in his feels sometimes. He’ll get over it. Why can’t you just give him some time?”

Marcus rolled his straw wrapper between both hands, then tied it into a knot. Then another. Then he tossed it onto the table. “Why does Coach Hunter think I can handle starting? I could barely make a basket all practice! I keep throwing passes to people who aren’t open. What if that shot was a fluke?”

“And there it is,” Simone said.

“There what is?”

“What you’re really worried about. You’re worried you’re going to let down the team.”

“It’s not that . . .” Marcus pulled his straw out of his drink, then punched it back in. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Simone put down her drink and grabbed his wrist. He stared at his wrist, and then back up at her, smirking.

“Are you trying to hold my hand?”

She rolled her eyes. “Listen to me, idiot. You’ve got to be in it to win it. If the coach thinks you’re ready, then you are. He’s been watching you all season, not just that one game. Why do you think he always pairs you up against Julio in practice? He must think you guys have a similar style of play. Just get out of your head and give it your all. I know how many times you’ve been out late practicing in the park. Why don’t you trust that you’ve actually learned something?”

She released his wrist and shook her head. “Actually, you and Taj are a lot alike. You both need to have a little more faith in your form. That shot didn’t just come from nowhere—it’s not magic, right? It’s practice.”

Marcus winced. It was sort of both, but how could he possibly explain?

Simone went on. “It’s the same thing for being a starter. You just need a little more practice. Julio’s not a wizard. He’s just been playing in more game situations than you have. He’s used to reading the court, knowing where everybody is. But I know you can do it. And you should be happy that Coach Hunter sees your potential. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He sighed and slid out of the booth to leave. She didn’t understand. The first Districts game was in two days. How was he going to develop his basketball IQ and passing game in two days?

“Marcus, wait.” Simone looked serious. “I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

“What . . .” He shook his head nervously.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. But . . . just don’t stay mad at Taj, okay? You guys have been friends for too long to let something stupid get between you. I know you can figure out how to make things right.”

Marcus couldn’t think of anything to say in response. He settled for giving her a quick nod before heading for the door. But he could feel her watching him as he scraped his garbage into the can, slid their empty tray onto the counter, and left.

Come on. It wasn’t fair. How did she know so much?