“Grant, did anybody ever tell you that you have a smart mouth?” Paul yelled.
“I think it’s safe to say you aren’t the first,” Grant snickered.
Jack blew his whistle. “That’s it…Paul, switch teams with Joe John.”
“Thank you,” Paul laughed.
“Don’t thank me, just get your head in the game and play ball,” Jack replied sternly.
The next time Grant drove the lane, Paul was there to meet him with an aggressive foul.
“Hey! Come-on!” Jack hollered as Grant peeled himself off the ground.
“My bad,” Paul smiled.
The game went on, and, for a few minutes, things seemed to be running smoothly.
Hailey dribbled down the court, Grant mirroring her all the way. “It’s tied,” she reminded him. “When we score this time down it’s all over…we win, you lose.”
“It’s only tied because I’m handicapped by two guys who apparently think that playing defense entails standing in the lane with their hands on their knees,” Grant retorted.
“Hmm, that’s funny,” Hailey smiled. “I pretty sure it is tied because I faked you out and collected three points last time down.”
Grant reached in and got his hand on the ball, succeeding in knocking it away from Hailey, but she was able to recover quickly.
“Nice try,” she commented, and her voice lacked the sarcasm that Grant expected.
“Nice recovery,” Grant smiled back.
“Is it just me, or did we compliment each other?” Hailey grinned.
“Don’t get used to it,” Grant scoffed.
Hailey stopped dribbling and held the ball. “Oh, don’t worry,” she shook her head. “I’m all too aware of your Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality.”
“You don’t know me at all,” Grant shot back.
“You’re right about that,” Hailey quipped. “I thought I did, but I don’t. You changed, and part of me wishes you had never come here.”
“Do you think I want to be here?” Grant yelled back. “Do you think I was just dying to make this little impromptu pilgrimage to the American South…full of cultural enlightenment and the grace and hospitality befitting a southern belle such as yourself?”
“Do you enjoy being a jerk?” Hailey huffed.
Grant shrugged. “If nothing else, it usually succeeds in keeping people at bay…I see you are immune to its perks.”
Jack walked over and took the ball that was now tucked under Hailey’s arm. “We’ll wait,” he nodded sarcastically. “We wouldn’t dream of letting our basketball game interfere with your fight.” When Grant and Hailey hardly seemed to notice and continued on with their banter, Jack blew his whistle. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” he said, eyeing the two of them. “You guys go home and show up tomorrow ready to practice.”
Following their third day of practice, Jack brought his team to mid-court. His arms were crossed; his face was grim. “Hailey, Grant, Paul, Joe John and Billy Wayne, I would like you guys to sit tight for a moment; the rest of you can go.”
Paul cut his eyes toward Grant, and Grant stared back at him hatefully.
When their teammates had left the gym, Jack stared at his starting five. “So much for the third time being a charm, huh?” he frowned. “After two days of fights during which a practice happened to break out, I was thinking we could actually get down to business today. I guess I wrong.”
“Coach, I had no problem today until Grant started firing passes across the lane like rockets,” Paul argued.
“You’ve gotta be able to catch those!” Grant scolded.
“No, you were throwing it entirely too hard to be that close just to tick me off, and you know it,” Paul shot back.
“Would you rather I had lobbed it over to you and gotten it picked off?” Grant yelled. “Hailey…a girl … can catch my passes, so why can’t you?”
“Both of you, stand up,” Jack demanded. “Walk over to the baseline, give me twenty suicides, and then we’ll chat.”
Paul groaned as they jogged toward the line. “This is all your fault, Cohen!”
“I wasn’t the one who started complaining; that was you,” Grant shrugged.
Jack stood next to the other three kids, who sat silently watching their teammates. “Nice job, guys,” he clapped when the boys finished their final time down the floor. “Come back over here and join us.”
Both boys breathed heavily as they rejoined the team.
“Who would like to be next?” Jack asked, and no one said a word. “That’s what I figured,” he smiled. “Now, I’m looking at y’all…my seniors who are supposed to lead this team, and, instead of seeing a team, I see five individuals. Can someone please explain to me how we are supposed to win a single game this season if you guys can’t learn to play together?”
“We won’t,” Hailey shrugged.
“No, we won’t,” Jack nodded. “So, is that what you guys want out of your senior year? A miserable season during which we continually beat ourselves?”
