NOW THAT LUKE'S HIT HIS growth spurt, over the course of the year he has gotten nearly as tall as I am — which is insulting, considering I'm six years older than him. He's been considering switching from being a soccer player to being a basketball player.
He practically begged me to take him to one of Carsonville's home games tonight. I vehemently opposed the idea, but as soon as Mom saw that her little hermit wanted to do an activity that might require him to socialise with his older sister, the case was closed. I invited Drew and Sasha so that I wouldn't be mind-numbingly bored, and so that Luke would be on his best behaviour. He always is around that girl.
The gymnasium is bristling with nervous energy. None of our basketball team, the Knights, not even managers or coaches, have appeared on the floor yet. Steadily, more people arrive to fill up the bleachers. Our opponents walk in from their locker room ten minutes before the game is due to start, clad in their green basketball uniforms, and test out the floor and the hoops before disappearing once more.
Constantly checking my phone only makes time drag even slower. The air in the gym has become sticky, and sweaty. I try my best to push through that feeling. When the cheerleaders come in, my focus is transferred onto the stunning show in front of me. Dressed in sparkly one-sleeve lycra uniforms, matching shoes and hair bows, bearing the school colours of blue and gold, the cheerleaders run through a set of double doors with impressive high-kicks and perfectly circular cartwheels thrown in.
When the Knights run into the gym, followed by the opposing school's team, the Comets, in evergreen jerseys, I have long since gone deaf in one ear from the screaming of the crowd to the left of me. I realise with a sinking feeling that I am in Reece's territory now. Mine is the classroom, his is the court. To the right of me is the stairwell, and I like it that way. Easy escape.
For me, the game is not as entertaining as others think it is. Most of the time, I find myself watching Reece. His blue basketball jersey, trimmed with white and yellow, bears the number one. His brown hair, normally thick and messy, is plastered to his scalp by sweat. I can see his forehead, shoulders, and strong, tanned arms shimmering with exertion.
I wonder if Brittany and the rest of the Monarchy are here, if they genuinely support him or only claim friendship for show. I can't see any of their familiar faces, Terrence's cheeky smirk or Brittany's cold stare, Madison's signature pink outfits or Derek's signature dark ones.
When everyone else jumps up, clapping energetically, cheering or booing, I just yell random encouragement into the air. The method of fitting in works pretty well until everyone starts booing our team for some reason. I stop doing what the crowd is doing when I realise why they're booing.
We have been tied with the Comets for most of the game. The two scores have never been more than two points apart. Now, we are slipping behind, and they have a ten-point lead. Knights supporters from our school are yelling insults and swearing at a member of our basketball team, in a cruel show of disapproval. For God's sake, we should cheer especially hard when our team doesn't perform well.
With his head dropped in shame, Reece is taking the burden on his shoulders. As the Comets gain more and more points, I finally notice more about him than just what direction he's running in. He really is having a bad day. I've never seen him play basketball before, but from what Drew has told me about his history, sports have been in Reece's blood since he could catch a ball. And he could catch a ball since day dot.
Tonight, it's like his years of habit and training have been taken away. His steps are clumsy and not as agile as I've always imagined him being. He doesn't seem to know which way to dodge around an opponent, which gets the ball intercepted from him. All of the shots Reece tries to make are unsuccessful, leading to him cursing himself afterward, clutching his head.
By the last quarter, I can tell he doesn't trust himself at all, when he has always been so self-assured, passing the ball to another team member as soon as he gets it. It's not really a surprise, but it still stings when we lose.
Most of the crowd are Carsonville citizens, and therefore, Knights supporters. That it was a home game only drives the stake deeper into the hearts of the fans. The sprinkling of spectators here for the Comets are cheering ecstatically. I notice that all the Knights supporters leave quickly, with bitter expressions. Hats, foam fingers, and discarded food packages are left on the bleachers and floor. I'm feeling sorry for the janitor.
"That was disappointing," Luke mumbles.
"Yeah," Drew agrees. "I'm going to take Sash home now. How are you guys getting back?"
"Mom's picking us up in ten minutes," I answer. "See you Monday."
"See you."
"I can't believe Dormer played so badly," Luke comments. "All my friends and I reviewed his stats for the season, and it seemed like he'd be totally in his element tonight—"
"Reece Dormer?"
"Yeah. Duh. He's, like, only the best basketball player to come out of Carsonville—" Oh, my God. Does my little brother admire Reece?
I shudder. "Well, he's clearly not as great as you think."
"—I wonder what threw him off," Luke continues, oblivious to me. Yeah, I'm only his only sister and chaperone. I could leave him these hallways, lost forever. By all means, ignore what I say. "Do you think I can meet him?"
"Uh..." Not a good idea.
"I know you're unpopular and unliked, but maybe you could pretend to be a fan, too, if Dormer has no idea you exist." I scoff disbelievingly, a spike of indignation driving down my spine. This cretin. Does he look at me and see some unloved, miserable pariah, desperate for attention from someone like Reece?
I'll show him who's unpopular. "Actually, I can introduce you, asshole. Reece is in my AP Bio class."
Luke blinks. Then he launches himself at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Really? In that case, I take it all back. You're the best sister ever—"
"Yeah, yeah. Settle down."
We linger until the congestion in the double doors has cleared, before we head out the back doors to where the boys' locker rooms are, down the hallway from where the girls get changed for Gym class. Reece is on his way out, with droplets of water sliding from his wet hair. He's in regular casual clothing, his Letterman jacket dangling unworn from his sports bag.
Upon noticing my presence, he glowers. "Sophie, if you're here to congratulate me on my spectacular defeat, that's going to have to wait until tomorrow."
I clear my throat. "I'm not. I'm introducing a fan." Then I shove Luke in front of me, gesturing between him and Reece. "Luke, Reece. Reece, Luke. My little brother apparently admires you. Beats me why."
It's then that Reece skims my little brother up and down, his lip curling up in approval. "You disappointed by my gameplay?" The question is more of a statement, one that mirrors the disappointment in Reece's hooded green eyes. He's disappointed in himself.
"Basketball is about consistency, right?" Luke smiles. "My friend has an older brother who plays for the team, too, and he told me about the game you guys had with the Vipers, and, wow, was it—"
I smile softly as Reece falls into an easy conversation with Luke, occasionally aiming an amused grin back at me. Gosh. Reece is never going to let me forget this. He is one of the Monarchs I've been having trouble wrangling, but at least he's warmed to me enough to humour me for tonight. And, I've helped him a few times in AP Bio. It's grasping at straws, I know, but that's all I can do right now.
After I take a picture of Reece and Luke together — at the latter's behest — my phone vibrates. Mom is here. "Luke, go meet Mom. She doesn't know how to get into the car park. Go past the courtyard we saw coming in."
Luke obliges dutifully; he'll probably owe me favours for the rest of the month, going by the giddy smile on his face. When Reece and I are alone, I ask gently. "Are you sure you're okay? You didn't seem like yourself during the game."
"That's because I wasn't," he grits out. The good humour he had around Luke has withered, revealing the true bitterness underneath. "Today's just a shit day."
I wonder if he means that today was bad because of the game, or specifically the whole day. Maybe something happened today that brought his mood down so much that his performance was severely impacted. But, if something that drastic had happened today, why did he play? Surely the team has substitute players.
"At least you stayed in the whole game."
"That was Coach's mistake. He's so concerned about getting me scouted and scared of my parents that he'd never consider benching me. Even when I need to be benched. Even when it leads to the downfall of the team."
"It's not your fault you have bad days. Your team will understand, surely. You can just sleep it off."
"I don't sleep off my bad days. Can't, more like. I can never sleep when we lose." Reece chuckles darkly. "And besides, the afterparty calls. Who's going to provide the venue and booze and get off their face first, if not me?"
"Maybe someone who's up to it," I reply worriedly. "You look like crap—"
"Time to drink it off!" a voice calls from the locker room. A similarly tall, toned boy tumbles into the hallway, his hair wet. Two others follow. "Dude." He laughs cheerfully at Reece. "Bros before hoes."
I agree with a chuckle. He totally got the wrong idea. "Yeah, dicks before chicks. Go with your teammates," I tell Reece with an encouraging smile. His teammate meanwhile guffaws incredulously at my words. "He seems like he needs the attention—"
"—If all of you are done," Brittany's voice chimes from the end of the hallway. My words, the team's laughter, and good spirits are immediately squashed by her heels clicking on the linoleum as she approaches.
An uneasy silence settles over us. "I'm going to have to steal Reece from you. See you at the afterparty. Except you, of course, Olsen." Reece doesn't even argue against her as he trudges to her side, sparing me a cursoring, remorseful look. They disappear down the hallway.
Sorry for how powerless Reece seems to be tonight, I sigh and shake my head, clearing the thoughts away. The three basketballers follow, quiet falling after them. Just before I turn the opposite way, ready to go home, the locker room swings open.
"Here I thought the football team was getting all the attention from girls." The athlete smirks, running his eyes over me. "You want to get out of here, babe?"
"You want to get out of here, babe?" I cross my arms. Gross.
Hands in the air, he defends, "I get it. No-one likes us. Because of Dormer, right? Fucking failure of a captain. He survives on his daddy's money, did you know?"
I bite my lip to keep from defending Reece, shocked that I even feel the urge to. Obviously, his teammates don't know the full story either. Or they do, and they don't care about him the way teammates should. Who is this dude, selling out his captain to a random he just saw? I stiffly answer, "I did know."
He sees my defiant frown and scoffs. "Get better taste in men then."
"Get better, period," I retort. "Reece might not be a good person, but he's a good player. He's captain, and you're not, for a reason." I turn and head towards the car park, leaving the nameless athlete muttering defeatedly in my wake.
Luke, having claimed the shotgun seat, turns around in his seat to grin at me when I get into the car. "I can't believe you're friends with Dormer." The excited gleam in his light brown eyes is clearly visible, even under the dim passing lights of the street lamps.
Who would have thought this was my little brother? He's usually apathetic and absorbed in some sort of game in his Nintendo console or phone, not deigning to make conversation with me.
Mom's eagle ears miss nothing. "Oh? Who's this now?"
"The captain of the basketball team," Luke fills in. "He's such a good player, Mom."
"And he and Sophie are friends?" In the back seat, I can see her eyes flicker to my face in the rearview mirror. Uh, not quite.
"Yeah! Pretty crazy." Luke is oblivious to the suggestive arch of her eyebrows, but I witness and am disturbed by it clear as day. Again, gross. I shake my head viciously, watching Mom's eyes crinkle with amusement.
"Totally crazy," I mutter. What's crazy is not that we are friends, or anything more — because we are not either of those — but that I had the opportunity to turn someone against Reece and towards our side, but I chose instead to defend him.
It hadn't even required a moment of analysis or scheming, like every other one of my actions these days. I truly think Reece is a good captain, one that no-one should accuse of buying his way to the top, and telling the world had seemed like the most natural thing ever. I didn't even hesitate.
That's the crazy part.