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With my gear in tow, I hurry through the locker room, across the court, and to my old girls’ locker room. On habit, I go to my old gym locker. There, I see a single Good Luck balloon hanging, which makes me smile. I have most of those girls’ phone numbers in my phone. I don’t know why I haven’t thought about texting them since I transferred schools. Some of them would train with me no matter what. I’ve just been too preoccupied with making the team that the only person I tried to stay in touch with was Tiff. I hurry up and change, then wait for the text. It seems like it’s an awfully long time before my phone finally buzzes in my hand.Come to the locker room.
I grab everything and then head back through the gym. I pull up short when I see Andrew and his team there, already doing practice shots. He blinks at me, then looks away. In the crowd, I hear a few people say, “You suck, Dale!”
I shake it off, then move right for the visiting locker room. When I step in, I hear someone make a girly scream and then the rest of the guys laugh. Funny. When I come around the corner, one of the other juniors who isn’t good enough to be a starter is standing there with his hands over his chest and one practically cupping his balls. He’s completely dressed in his jersey; he’s just being a dick.
“Ha. Ha.”
Coach runs down the few plays we’re going to start with and then gives us a motivational speech about how this is just a scrimmage, but the game will set the tone for our whole season. He tells us to play smart, play as one, and to get the W.
After all that, Lake says, “Not like these rich assholes can actually play.” He looks over at me, a smirk tearing across his face. He drops his voice. “Oh sorry. I forgot you were here, Dale.”
I look away. My perfect revenge on Lake would be getting to start. That’s what I should focus on.
Everything goes smoothly when we first walk out onto the court. My nerves amp up again, butterflies in my stomach as we work the shootaround. I can hear a few people near the bottom of the bleachers making comments about how there’s a girl on the boys’ team, but I prepared for that stuff. It doesn’t bother me. I really don’t care what their opinion is. Today’s supposed to be low-key, so that’s why I’m surprised when Coach calls us back and we’re inundated by girls’ screaming. I stare up into the stands and almost fall over. In fact, I stumble right into Hayes who’s stopped, his shoulders bunching and hands tightening to fists. A bunch of the girls who hang out with the Ballers are wearing a huge picture of my face on their shirts. It’s the one Lake took after he drew the dick on me. “You suck, Dale!” They sing together in a chorus as if they’ve actually rehearsed it.
My heart starts pounding. People turn in their seats at the commotion. Some are horrified, but others are laughing. I can pinpoint Lake’s laugh over them all. My eyes burn. When I look off to the side to try to block it all out, my gaze collides with Andrew’s. He cocks his head and the concern on his face makes everything worse.
After the game—after the incessant Tessa Dale sucks comments and the laughing and the me riding the bench the entire fucking game—I see Tiff walk out onto the court to give Andrew a hug. He bends down and gives her a peck on the lips.
Well, now I know why my former friend hasn’t contacted me. A little part of me hoped she’d be here to cheer me on. I thought perhaps she was just too busy as I know I’ve been. But no, she apparently got what she wanted. I look up. I’m the only one left sitting on the bench. None of the guys waited. They gave each other pounds for the win, some slaps on the back, but I’m just sitting here.
Part of it’s because I feel lost inside, but mostly hurt that making the team wasn’t enough for those catty bitches. The other reason why I’m just sitting here is because I don’t know if I should be going into the girls’ locker room or if Coach wants me in the boys’ locker room for a game recap. I stare at the floor and swallow everything down.
34
The last couple of weeks have been rough. The Baller Bitches have followed us to every single game whether it’s at home or away. They wear the “I suck” shirts for me, but cheer so hard for the rest of the team. I’m dying to play. Absolutely dying. I’ve spent most of the time on my ass on the bench because Lake is playing great. A few games ago, he got into some foul trouble, so I got to play a few minutes and no matter how well I played, all I could hear were the people yelling Baller Skank at me and singing, “Youuuuuuuu suck!” They’ve gotten it down to a T. It’s natural to have people yelling at players and starting shit, but when it’s your own school you’re supposed to be playing for, it’s terrible. This isn’t what I thought it would be like at all. Why am I never enough?
My Ballers aren’t very happy about it. They told me they’ve had a talk with the girls, but it only made it worse. The only one who enjoys it when the girls start crowing is Lake. He smiles and laughs, smirking at me like he organized the whole thing, and you know what, I wouldn’t be surprised. The other teammates aren’t happy about it either. Not because they feel bad for me. No, because we’ve become a laughingstock of articles that readFans Turn Against RHSandRough Start to Warrior’s Season— “Suck”-ing the Enjoyment Out Of the Game.
I walk out of the girls’ locker room after a win that I had nothing to do with and head toward the parking lot. The cars have already cleared out, and I just want to get home. Mom and Dad have come to a few games, even tonight’s, sitting through the Baller Bitches new cheer routine starring how much I suck. Footsteps pound the pavement behind me. I turn instinctively. Lately in the hallway, I’ve been tripped, had things thrown at me, and walked into like I wasn’t even there so much that I don’t trust people anymore. The only time it doesn’t happen is when Hayes walks me to every class, but I can’t expect Hayes to be my bodyguard forever. No matter how many times the guys try to be there, I’m going to be alone at some point.
When I look up, though, it’s Sloan who’s racing after me. I turn right back around. My chest constricts. I have no desire to talk to anyone right now, and it doesn’t matter how many times they tell me that everyone will get used to me being on the team, it only seems to be getting worse, not better. “Come on, Tessa, wait up!”
I hit the unlock button on the fob and go to open my passenger side door when I gasp. Someone’s keyed “Baller Skank” into my car across the passenger side door panel. My car! I close my eyes, my duffel slipping from my grip. Heat gathers behind my eyes. I’ve tried and tried, and no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to prove that I deserve to be on that team, this is the push back I get. No one wants me on the team.
“What the…? Fuck,” Sloan curses.
I run my fingers over the words. That’s all I am to everyone. Just the Baller Skank. They’ve seen me walking to class with Hayes. They’ve seen Alec and Sloan touch me, even kiss me at school. It’s different than the other girls because they went through the guys one-at-a-time. Me? This is all happening at once. The same day they see me with Hayes, they see me kiss Alec or see Sloan pinch my ass. I wish people would mind their own business. I’m not a threat to them. In a way, I guess I am though. To the catty girls, I’m taking their fun away and they need someone to focus their anger on.
“My mom’s going to freak,” I say, voice wavering.
Sloan pulls me to him. “They don’t understand it. That’s all, Tessa. No one’s ever gotten our bond, so they’d never understand why we’d all want to be with you.”
I make an amused sound in the back of my throat. “Are we even together anymore?”
Sloan pulls his head back like I slapped him.
I shake my head. “I guess we should have expected it. Basketball has taken over. I don’t feel like the girl you want to date, I feel like your shitty teammate who ruins everything.”
“You’re not ruining anything,” Sloan says, his gaze intent on me. “We haven’t lost a game all season.”
I rub my head. I hate that I’ve had practically nothing to do with any of those wins. My mouth stays shut, though. It all just sounds like bitterness.
“Hey,” Sloan says, sliding his arm around my back to comfort me. “I try to sit with you on the bus….”
“So Coach can call me out again? No thanks.”
“We’ve been to dances. We’ve hung out over the weekend.” He places a few strands of hair behind my ear. “I think all this is just getting to you. That’s all. I can’t blame you, Tessa. It’s fucked up. Ryan and me, Alec and Hayes, we’ve tried to do something, but—”