A Game Worth Watching (10 page)

She
laughed. Number one, the thought of a boy liking her in a girlfriend sort of
way was crazy. She knew way too much about guys to think of them as potential
dating material, and she wasn’t exactly girlfriend material herself. Number
two, the idea of Riley as the date patrol was hysterical. She could picture it
in detail, and knew he would live up to his threats. He’d dress all in black in
an attempt to look threatening; he’d have a pen and notebook in hand, which he
would continuously scribble in to make her nervous, not to mention his annoying
pen clicking habit; he would disagree with whatever her alleged boyfriend said
or did; and after his thorough evaluation, Riley would determine the guy could
not be trusted, thus fulfilling his role as her protector.

Note
to self, in the extremely rare event a boy was interested in her, Riley did not
have need-to-know clearance.

All
she could do was stare at him. “You are unbelievable.”

“So,
no boyfriend?”

“No,
no boyfriend,” she assured him. Was it her imagination or did Riley actually
exert a sigh of relief?

He
crossed his arms, and his eyes narrowed, studying her. “But you still won’t
tell me.”

She
shook her head. “There’s nothing to tell.”

His
shoulders slumped forward, his arms dropping to his sides. “I thought we were
friends.” He bowed his head and pushed his bottom lip out just enough to look
completely crushed. “Best friends.”

No
way was she going to let him make her feel guilty, no matter how pitiful he
looked. “We
are
friends.
Best
friends.” Failing to keep a smile off her face, Emma pushed him in the chest.

Laughing,
he reached out and grabbed her around the waist to prevent himself from
stumbling backward. “No matter what?”

“No
matter what,” she confirmed, trying to figure out why her heart rate
accelerated when he pulled her against him.

“Promise?”
He rested his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes, as if daring her
to lie to him.

Trapped
in his arms, she couldn’t do anything except promise. “Yes, I promise.” She
pulled her face away from his, wanting him to take her seriously. The last
thing she wanted was for him to start snooping around. “But that doesn’t mean
there’s anything to tell.”

He
didn’t believe her. Doubt was written all over his face. “Okay.” He shrugged in
defeat. “I guess you’re entitled to your privacy.”

“Yes,
I am.”

She
had endured way too much girl time within a twenty-four hour period and still
had homework to complete before tomorrow, not to mention strategizing on how to
keep a secret from her best friend. “Goodnight, Riley.” She broke free from his
grasp and headed toward the house.

“I’ll
find out eventually,” he warned. “You know I will.”

Not if I can help
it
, she thought. Without turning back, she raised her arm in farewell.

He
waited until she reached the front door before getting in his last words. “And
when I do, it better not be a boyfriend.”

Dinner
at the Wrangtons’ consisted of either fend for yourself, or on the rare
occasion her dad bought fast food, like tonight, it was dumped in the middle of
the table for a first-come-first-served knockout. Emma’s block out skills were
perfected around the table as she fought her brothers for food. If all else
failed, one quick swipe of her hand through a hole could snatch her at least
enough food to ward off hunger pains for the night. She’d learned the hard way
about the consequences of missing a meal, but tonight food wasn’t her top
priority.

“So,
Dad.” Emma tried to sound as casual as possible, but even she could hear her
voice shake. “I made the basketball team at
school.”               

Lance
snorted as he shoved a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Big deal. The girls’
team sucks.” He pushed away from the counter and rammed his shoulder into hers
as he passed her on his way to the table for seconds. “What did you have to do,
show up?”

The
girls’ team definitely had its longstanding reputation, and everyone knew it.
“They’re not that bad,” she said to the floor, feeling an urge to stand up for
them just to ensure her and Lance didn’t agree on something.

Lance
shook his head, grabbed another piece of chicken, and headed for the living
room.

Emma’s
focus returned to her dad. He leaned against the counter, sipping root beer
from a can with a plate of untouched food beside him. The last time they’d
talked basketball was over two weeks ago when she’d asked him for new shoes.

“Our
first game is tomorrow, and I…” She shifted weight from one foot to the other
and bit her lip, hating how she knew he would say no, but needing to ask anyway.
“I wondered if you’d come see me play.”

“Tomorrow?”
Her dad scratched his chin like he might be considering the possibility. “I
think I have to work.”

Idiot
, she
scolded herself. Of course he had to work. She should have asked him a week
ago. Her dad started to walk away, but Emma followed him. “What about next
week? Tuesday or Thursday?” She cringed at how her voice sounded on the verge
of desperation, begging like some needy child. Why did the small flame of hope
inside her never die out, no matter how many times her dad rejected her?

Her
dad barely looked at her when he said, “You know I can’t guarantee anything. My
work schedule changes by the minute sometimes.”

Emma
nodded. She knew he didn’t have control over his work schedule. It was selfish of
her to even ask him to take two hours out of his day to watch a stupid
basketball game they were sure to lose anyway. Even if he didn’t have to work,
even if he used to make every attempt to watch Lance play, he deserved a night
off from obligations. “Okay,” she said. “Maybe another time.”

It
was a good thing her appetite disappeared—there wasn’t any food left to
even scrounge for scraps. She retreated to her bedroom to start on homework and
divert her thoughts from her family.

Thirty
minutes later, enough time for her brothers to finish dinner and for her to
finish her Physics homework and half of her English assignment, she heard
voices on the other side of the wall. Dad and Lance. She plunged ahead with her
homework, knowing if she didn’t finish it now, she might not finish it at all.

On
the other side of the wall, their voices grew louder and she shuddered. She
tossed aside her books and wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them to
her chest. How bad would it be tonight? She closed her eyes, but their words
only became clearer. Exhaustion seeped through her as she listened to them
fight. Lance needed money. Again. Dad didn’t have any to give him. Again. She
hated how their voices seeped through the walls and into her bedroom, causing
her stomach to twist into knots.

She
flinched as something hit the wall and shattered, broken glass cascading to the
floor. Lance. Her dad never threw anything, but she could picture him growing
still and quiet, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to keep his
temper in check. Aside from a few selective instances years ago, her dad never
hit any of his kids, but she knew nothing was set in stone. She feared Lance
would be on the other end of their dad’s fist one day, and she didn’t want to
be within a ten-mile radius if it ever happened, even if Lance deserved it. She
didn’t want to witness Lance’s reaction or see the rage transform her dad into
a stranger.

Not
wanting to stick around to find out how tonight’s fight ended, she slipped on
her shoes, crossed the short distance to her private exit, and escaped into the
night. With nowhere to go she walked down the street, catching glimpses of her
neighbors through the windows. At one house, she saw a young couple dancing in
the middle of their kitchen. The man leaned in and whispered something in the
woman’s ear. The woman tilted back her head and laughed at the ceiling. Emma
paused, watching them twirl in circles, and wondered if her parents had ever
acted like that—in love.

Feeling
guilty for spying on her neighbors, she retreated to the Ledgers’. Their house
was dark except for the porch light that shone like a beacon in the night. She
was glad Riley didn’t have to grow up in a house where money limited
opportunities and fights erupted on a daily basis. He deserved all he had:
great parents, money, love, and laughter. She would sacrifice everything to
spare him from a life like hers.

Sitting
alone on the Ledgers’ front porch dulled her uneasiness. She leaned her head
against the high back of the whicker chair and exhaled, her breath floating
upward in wisps. She pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her frozen hands
and crossed her arms to stay warm. Even freezing on the Ledgers’ front porch
was better than being at home. She wondered if her family had always been so
dysfunctional or if it was just the natural consequence after a
wife-slash-mother leaves.

Even
today Emma couldn’t explain what went wrong and why her mom left. Sure, her
parents fought like all parents did, but none of their fights resulted in broken
glass and bruises. She still lived inside the house then, sharing a room with
Lenny and Lucas. Lance was an all-star basketball player, and Logan was top of
his class academically. They hadn’t had any more money then than they did now,
but they’d been happier. Or so Emma thought. But then one day, she woke up and
her mom was…gone. No note, no goodbye. Just gone.

Her
mom’s desertion splintered the family, changing everything and everyone. Logan
retreated into his books, Lance became angry and bitter, Lenny and Lucas
stopped obeying rules, and her dad just sort of hardened. Her dad had always
been the quiet type, but Emma had difficulty remembering him before everything
changed. The more she tried to remember, the fuzzier he became. She had
memories of her dad kissing her goodnight, giving her high-fives when Riley
told him about some move she’d made on the basketball court, and wiping away
her tears when she got hurt, but she had no proof these memories were real. How
could love for his only daughter vanish overnight? Somewhere, deep within, he
still loved her, right?

Emma
shook her head, not trusting where her thoughts would go if she forced herself
to conjure an answer. She redirected her attention to basketball. Bradshaw’s
first game was tomorrow against Jefferson High School, and Emma still didn’t
know if Bradshaw was ready for real competition. Yes, the team had improved,
but basketball performed in a nice, controlled, non-threatening environment
looked a whole lot different than basketball executed in a full-on competition
against players who’d rather knock you to the ground than give you the right of
way. The team would look and feel a lot different after their first game.

The
only girls Emma had ever seen play basketball were the seven girls on her team.
She had no idea what to expect from other teams. Did other teams in the league
lack skills, players, and experience too? If so, then Bradshaw may have a shot
at winning. After weeks of practice, the team had finally shown signs of
improvement. Small signs. They could run and dribble at the same time, shoot
and make shots half the time, play defense without tripping, and run a set of
wind sprints without collapsing from exhaustion. The only question now was how
would they measure up to the competition? Would Bradshaw claim their first
victory of the season or would it be the first loss of many? The first game
would tell her a lot about girls’ basketball and where she fit in. Emma hoped
she’d be ready when tip-off came tomorrow.

Sometime
between fading out her family’s drama and gearing up for tomorrow’s game, her
eyelids closed and sleep overtook her. Mrs. Ledger was the one to find her.

“Emma?
Is that you?”

She
jerked awake. It took her a minute to remember where she was and recognize Mrs.
Ledger’s voice.

Mrs.
Ledger took a cautious step forward. “Emma?”

Embarrassed
for having fallen asleep, Emma rubbed her eyes and leaned forward. “Hi, Mrs.
Ledger. Yeah, it’s me. Sorry if I scared you.”

Mrs.
Ledger breathed a sigh of relief and crossed the porch to sit beside her. “Is
everything all right?”

Emma
shrugged, remembering her reason for coming over. “It’s as good as it ever is.”

Mrs.
Ledger looked at her with disapproval. She was well aware of Emma’s home life
since Riley didn’t hold back in telling his parents anything. “The boys
fighting again?”

Emma
nodded.

Mrs.
Ledger imitated her nod and sighed. She looked into the darkened neighborhood
as if settling her thoughts before continuing. “I hear tomorrow is the big
first game.”

“Yeah.”
Emma wished for tomorrow never to come.

“Are
you ready?”

She
shook her head. “I don’t know the first thing about playing basketball with
girls.”

“I
imagine the game is the same whether it’s played with boys or girls.”

“It’s
not.” Guys could actually catch the ball, girls let it pass through their hands
and smack them in the face. Guys could run up and down the court as many times
as a Saturday allowed, girls couldn’t make it through warm-up laps without stopping
to walk. Guys played to win, girls played to socialize.

“You’ll
be fine.” Mrs. Ledger leaned over to pat her arm. “You just have to go out and
play your game. Be the beautiful, tough, talented basketball player Riley
always tells us you are.”

Emma
doubted Riley had ever described her with those words. More like a mom’s edited
version, but she soaked up the smile Mrs. Ledger gave her anyway. Times like
these made her yearn for the mom who walked out years earlier without a trace,
leaving her to fend for herself among her all-male family.

Footsteps
thudded up the porch steps, breaking the closest thing Emma had to a
mother-daughter moment. Riley took one look at them, marched across the porch,
and plopped himself on Emma’s lap. She groaned under his weight and tried to
push him off, but he wrapped his arms around her neck and held on, smashing the
side of her face against his chest.