“Play smart!” Coach shouted at Mercedes to start the second half. Mercedes wondered why Coach didn’t leave her on the bench where she belonged. She’d had four shots, four misses, two turnovers, one foul, and zero confidence. She couldn’t block out the noise of the crowd or the noise in her head.
Halle grabbed the ball from the jump and passed to Cheryl, who dribbled down the court and called the play. Mercedes stared at the court, not her teammates. An unfamiliar voice inside herself was growing louder: Please don’t throw it to me!
Cheryl passed to Halle, then set a pick. Mercedes trudged into position. The Lamar guard raced toward her, but it was too late. Mercedes held as the clock ticked down. She looked to pass, but no one was open. Dribble. Stop. Look. Pray. Shoot. Miss. Not just the net, but also the rim: an air ball filled with iron.
“No worries,” Cheryl yelled. Mercedes stared at the scoreboard. Down ten points, but the answer to her team winning was to be down one person. Her. Mercedes hustled into position. She set herself. The hometown favorite Lamar High guard faked left, moved right. Mercedes stared at the empty real estate in front of her and listened as the ball tapped off the backboard for an easy two.
The buzzer sounded as subs jogged onto the court. Mercedes saw no one coming to replace her. She tried to get Coach’s attention but failed. Up in the stands were scouts, but that was about the future. Mercedes lived suspended in the present with Callie.
With Mercedes not a threat, Lamar double-teamed Cheryl, forcing a turnover. Two more points. Ball back up the court. The guard backed off, daring Mercedes to shoot and miss.
Jump. Shoot. Miss. Cheers. No buzzer, but no matter. Mercedes sprinted for the bench.