At this point in life, I'm way past feeling angsty against pointed looks and mocking stares. When all your life that's the only emotion you receive from people, you grow accustomed to it somehow. And so, have I.
And now, I'm simply too busy with a goal in life to worry over what others think of me. They can badmouth me all they want. Nothing's going to faze me anymore.
No.
Just because life wasn't sailing smoothly according to my wishes, that doesn't make me crawl under a rock and hide. It's always been my move to hit back what's thrown at me. And that is exactly what I'm planning to do now as I stand before these large doors.
Opening the doors of the gym court, I peer inside to see if there's too much competition this year.
Yep. Crowded as always.
It's my third year at Westview high. I'm a junior now. I restrained myself for two years from entering this court so I could train myself enough to get into this school's team. Westview high school had been ranked in the top 5% of the most challenging schools to get into.
But I somehow did.
All so I could be a part of the girls' basketball team. The Minnesota Hawkettes. The best female basketball team in the prefecture.
If I needed to fulfill my dream of being the best, then I had to be with the best.
I quietly shut the door behind me and make my way to the center, where the majority of the newbies had gathered. I notice the curious gazes that are thrown at me. Some ignore me altogether once they give me a top-to-toe stare down. While a couple of girls whisper to each other as to what a toddler was doing in court.
Yeah, they weren't being too discreet about it.
I take off my baggy pants, revealing my sports shorts inside. I bend down to tie my shoelace and take the moment to look around to see if I could spot any one of the regulars.
"Such filthy shoes." Someone's nasally voice digs into my ear. I ignore her and the giggles that follow. Looking at my shoes I realize the poor babies were actually looking worn out. Thankfully, I didn't grow so much as an inch ever since I graduated from middle school. Thus, I was able to keep wearing the same running shoes.
My favourites.
I've been wearing these for over 3 years. I hate changing shoes. It throws me off rhythm when I play in new ones. And let's not forget the blisters I get. But this thing really needs to rest. I've made the most use out of these babies.
I wonder if dad will get me a pair? Or I'll just have to buy myself a pair with my allowance and savings.
I sit down on the polished floor and wait for try-outs to begin. All the faces around me were unfamiliar. Some were from my classes but I knew none of their names.
I had made sure I kept well away from the court for the past two years, so I wouldn't be tempted to try out, therefore I simply have no idea who the players were. But I have a feeling I'll recognize the regulars at a glance.
A bunch of girls enter the gym and I quickly scramble to my feet. A whistle is blown and everyone jogs to the center of the room and stands in a line. I leave my bag by the benches and come stand with the rest of the girls who practically towered over me. Some of the snotty brats snicker as they stare down at me.
Yes, I'm only five feet. But does height decide what you're to be best in?
Nope.
The coach, I presume walks into the gym. She was big and burly with an ounce of superiority around her. She walks in with a teacher or whoever it is. A petite lady who looked like a plaything standing beside the bulky woman.
"Is this all?" The coach's voice booms in the pin-drop silent gym.
Is this all!?
There's like a freaking 30 girls trying out for the team. And she expects more?
The coach asks us to form a circle of five and we follow her command. Her gaze lingers on me for a minute too long as I cross her view. A dissatisfied look grazes upon her stoic expression. I've always earned disappointed and disgusted looks from everyone who realized I was in their team. They always quarreled with each other as to what I was even doing in a game of basketball. The coach's gaze wasn't any different and was pissing me off.
I have a very strong urge to slap it off her face but then I keep myself calm. Doing so would get me nowhere. This is my only chance of trying out for the team. And I need to be in good shoes to be accepted.
We wait for our orders and when we receive it I stare at the burly woman with dead eyes. Perhaps the big lady wanted to get plenty of girls to drop out quickly. Which is why she asked us to start with shooting.
Usually, you start with warm-ups. It increases our ability to perform better. But no, this darn coach had other plans. Thank goodness I run every morning for an hour and do push-ups. That's enough warm-ups to last me till I get back home for my evening workouts.
She blows her whistle and everyone forms a straight line in front of the hoop.
Why the hell did she ask us to form circles?
I was squashed in between two giant girls the minute I get into the line. They make it even more difficult for me by shoving me.
"Do that once more and I won't guarantee the safety of your puny feet." I hiss under my breath just so the one behind could hear. I bet she got my menacing tone, cause she quickly backed off with a frown on her face. I roll my eyes at how easily she got told off.
The line gets shorter as the girls shoot the ball one by one and leave. The coach doesn't even give a second chance. You shoot you're in. You don't? Well then leave the court.
How did this school come to be the best in women's basketball when the coach was this bitchy?
The ball is passed to me by a girl with bright auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She gives me a soft smile and then waits for me to shoot. I stare at her for a moment unable to take my eyes off of her. Something about her gets me excited.
"Whenever you're ready." Coach just had to butt in. Sighing and taking a deep breath I turn to face the basket.
It's not new, standing in front of a super high hoop. I've been standing in front of this beast ever since I was six. Back then it terrified me. But now, it motivated me to fly to greater heights. I'm small for my age. I don't think you'll come across many seventeen-year-olds who're only five feet in height. And wanting to play basketball with such a height? Yeah, people thought I was effing insane.
I can't dunk. I don't think I'll ever be able to do such a magnificent move. But I've been perfecting my shooting skills. I've been training my body, my arms, and my wrist to play along with the ball so I could shoot the ball into the hoop without a sweat.
So, if this dumb coach thinks she could throw me out by having us shoot balls. Then she's dead wrong.
Because shooting is what I'm best at.
I square my shoulders to the basket and place my feet apart. With my knees bent slightly and back leaning towards the basket, I put the fingers of my shooting hand under the ball and tuck in my elbows close to my body. I flick my wrist towards the hoop and release the ball, my index finger slightly grazing the ball as if saying a final "goodbye."
~swish~
The ball doesn't even touch the rim. A perfect shot, just as planned.
The Auburn-haired girl grabs the falling ball and gives me an excited nod, her eyes round and wide. I nod back and go stand in line with the rest of the girls who had done well in shooting. I didn't wait for the coach to ask me to go to the line.
I didn't need her to tell me.
When I look up at the face of the lady who was going to train me for the two years of my high school life, I find her staring at me with a confused glare. But then it morphs to an approving look. She nods at me firmly and blows the whistle for the next girl to go up.
That's all I need. That's all I'll ever need.
Approval.
I've finally gotten myself into Minnesota's best high school girls' basketball team.
The coach keeps talking about something but I zone out. I couldn't wait to tell my best friend I'd gotten in. Not that she didn't expect it. She sent me off saying she'll wait for me to treat her to doughnuts. Someone clears their throat and that brings me back to my senses. I look around trying to find who it is with the throat problem and find coach's eyes on me.
Fuck.
Trouble on the first day!
I straighten up when she looks down at me. She's not even that tall, but her bulky form makes her seem huge.
"Have you played basketball before?" The coach asks, directing each word to me. The Auburn-haired girl stood beside her.
"Not on the court. No."
"But you have played?" She asks when she got what I meant.
"Street basketball. In my neighborhood and well, any neighborhood that has kids playing, you'll find me there." I shrug briefly.
I've been playing street basketball ever since I was six when I had always been left alone at home. It started with just passing time until dad came back home, but then it became my routine and soon I was barely home. Dad used to come and drag back a snotty, trashing brat. Aka me.
"You've got a good form when shooting." It was the Auburn girl who spoke. Of course, the coach would die rather than compliment.
Roll eyes.
"Thanks." I even give the girl a toothy grin. "With my height, it's not like I can be a defender or a dunker. So, I polished my shooting skills." I say confidently with a smirk. The girl chuckles at my over confidence but hey, I'm being honest here folks.
"My name is Señora. I'm the Captain." She says and I drop my jaws open.
Damn... I did not expect that. No wonder I felt a strange spark when I first saw her!
"And here I was hoping we could be partners," I mutter
under my breath. "Dream on Judith."
Señora clearly having heard what I just blurted out gives me a crooked smile, her eyes lighting up. "Perhaps we could. We've got a year before I graduate. Let's see how good you are to be my partner."
The coach loses interest in our conversation and walks up to scare another girl who seemed to be daydreaming whilst staring at her painted nails.
"The Captain's partner is equal to being the ace of the team. In other words, two players who play center and Power forward." I say her but the glint in her eyes doesn't vanish.
"I decide who my partner is. Positions do not matter as long as I can trust her completely. It's up to you to decide if you're willing to be the best to stand beside me." She pat's me on the shoulder and walks away.
And I felt it.
The familiar driving passion inside of me welling up. The cogwheels on my brain begin to move and the adrenaline rush coursing through my veins excite me. I grin wide as my eyes follow Senora's figure.
I'm sogoing to get the spot beside Señora if it's the last thing I do!