Beyond Blonde by Teresa Toten Page B

the shot, and was hit hard on the way down. Two morepoints, plus the free throw. We knew lining up around the key that any element of surprise we had on them was evaporating and that it was going to be ugly from here on in. I didn’t care. Luke was here and I was fearless. Kit trotted over to smack my butt when she caught me looking at the upper part of the stands.
    “Damn,” she said. “Stay with me, girl.”
    “Yay, yoohoo, yoohoo, yay, Madison, Madison, ya da ya!”
    Not surprisingly, the horrible hankies didn’t grasp the finer points of the terrible-towel tradition, like you’re not supposed to distract your own players. Madison made the shot anyway. I was elbowed just tossing the loose ball back to their guard. Okay, now it begins.…
    I threw myself at everything and Oakwood fouled me like I was a two-for-one sale. The horrible hankies had the time of their lives. And I am ashamed to say that I posed. Luke was looking. I couldn’t help myself. For every single free throw, I elongated, bounced the ball just so, pulled the ball into my chest, and then tossed it up and over, holding the follow-through just a beat or two longer than was necessary. In between bounces, I cursed the stupid dorky tunics that Northern made us wear. Oakwood had silky shorts and sleeveless jerseys. Trying to look sexy and fierce in a navy blue tunic and grey bloomers was tough, but I still posed my guts out. And it worked. I’d have to remember my posing technique in future. I made thirteen out of a possible sixteen foul point shots in the first half. Coach took me off five minutes before the half ended. I knew it was David’s idea.
    I looked up.
    Gone.
    David caught me searching. Had he seen?
    He called me over, looking like I was holding his loved ones hostage instead of winning his game for him. “Sarah needs some confidence,” he said, “some juice.” It was true, they were double-teaming her and she only had four points. “Give it to her, captain.”
    What the hell? There wasn’t a piece of me that wasn’t in pain. I looked up again. Still gone. Never mind all those amazing posing points, he wanted more? The whistle blew and I yelled, “It’s all yours, Sarah,” as I ran back on court, replacing Kathy Bicks. “Let’s crank it up!”
    “Got it!” said Kit bringing up the ball. She snapped to me, I snapped to Madison, Madison dribbled and ducked and snapped to Sarah, who made the shot and got the foul, even though I’d have to say she had charged the Oakwood player. Since that was like throwing yourself onto a skyscraper, we noticed that the refs tended to err our way on those fouls. She made the shot. The horrible hankies levitated. Our bench went wild, the buzzer blew, and we trotted off at the half with a tie. Sarah glided off the courts. I snuck a peek at the stands.
    “He left when David called you off,” whispered Kit. Before I could say anything, she threw her arm around my neck. “Welcome back, captain. Haven’t seen you play like that in forever!”
    David threw me a towel. “You’re playing like you’re hungry.” Pause, slight nod. “I want you hungrier in the second half.”
    I mean one lousy little smile. Seriously, would it kill him?
    I gave him hungrier. I was going to show him and thoseOakwood Goliaths. We used their size against them. I, we, played recklessly, drawing out all possible fouls, and the refs, God bless ’em, called them. We were diving like the Italian soccer team. My right arm was shot. It didn’t matter. Kit was limping and dragging her butt from one end of the court to the other. Madison had to sub out in the third quarter and couldn’t go back in, and Sarah was on it. She was the centre and they could not throw her off her game. The horrible hankies were hoarse from screaming. And what the hell, they just may have made the difference.
    We won 57 to 55, no overtime.
    The Aunties were down like a bullet, hugging the ref, Coach Wymeran, and David. You’d think we had just won