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“I’m not,” I say automatically.
We walk inside as she gives me the ‘yeah, right’ look. The truth is, I’m not scared of what the Ballers will do to me. My fear comes from another place all together.
Dawn and I order a couple slices each. I also ask for a couple of garlic knots and two fountain drinks before we find a booth in the corner and sit. Once we’re situated, Dawn takes a huge bite of her pizza. “Alright, spill, new girl.”
I’d shrug, but she looks like she won’t let up if I decide to hold back from her. She reminds me of a dog with a bone. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything, but start with how the hell Ryan fucking Linc knows who you are.”
The color drains from my face. I stare at my pizza, surprisingly coated with the same amount of oil as the one from the cafeteria, and sigh. “It’s—”
“If you say it’s a long story, I think you should know that I’m not above hitting people, even new friends.”
I look up at her, and she winks. “Fine,” I say. “Ryan Linc—and the rest of the Ballers—all know me from basketball camp.”
She takes a bite out of a garlic knot. “That’s the sport you play?”
I nod, and she motions with her hand to keep going. I don’t know exactly what to say to her from here though. There’s no way I’m going to tell her how they humiliated me at camp a couple summers ago. That’s not happening. That’s going with me to the grave. I shrug. “We kind of have a rivalry, I guess you could say.”
“Broadwell and Rockport?”
I shake my head. “More than that. Ryan and me, I mean. You see, we’re both really good. There can be only one winner and all that.”
Her face lightens, and she looks at me with a new appreciation.
“It’s stupid,” I say with an eye roll. “Ryan and I don’t even play the same position. It’s Lake who—”
“Wait. So you guys played against one another? They don’t split you up into girls’ team and boys’ team?”
And here’s the kicker of it all. “No,” I tell her. “Not at this camp. It’s invite only. Only the best of the best go.” I conveniently leave out that my dad’s been running the camp since I was a kid. Of course, he’s only taken on a more active role since he retired from playing professionally.
“Shit, Tessa,” she says, clearly impressed now. “I thought it was weird when you started talking about using food as fuel earlier, but I guess you’re just…dedicated?” She says the last part like a question, almost as if this topic of conversation is so outside her normal routine that she’s unsure of herself.
“Dedicated is a good word,” I tell her.
“You’re really that good?”
My face flushes. The athlete in me wants to just say yes. Yes, I am. But if Dawn is the only one who will talk to me, I’d rather not turn her off by seeming full of myself. If the Broadwell Academy membership card hasn’t scared her off, that might tip her over the edge. “I’m…decent,” I end with finally.
“Sounds like an answer someone would give if they were awesome.”
I shrug. “How about this? You can make your decision when you see me play.”
She smiles, but then the color drains from her face. “Shit. Tessa. There’s no girls’ basketball team at Rockport. Not that I usually know these things, but I do remember hearing someone say that once.”
I tamp down on the anger rising inside me. I’ve heard too much bullshit lately on girls’ sports teams that I could fucking scream. “Oh, I know.”
She cocks her head. “So…how am I going to see you play?”
“Because I’ll be playing right beside The Rock Ballers.”
Dawn stills for a moment. Then, she chokes. She fumbles for her bottle of water as her face turns red. I go to stand, but she holds up a finger as she gulps water down. As soon as she downs all of it and swallows a couple of times, she turns wide eyes toward me. “What?!”
I smile at her. “I’ll be playing Rock basketball this season.”
She blinks at me. “On the boys’ team?”
I nod.