A Book of One Shots - Requests Welcome

Swish || Brevin || Original Work

 Hi!

Swish || Original Work

Written by: emmict

Word Count: Roughly 1000 Words

Note: I wrote this for an English Assignment last year and found it randomly :P

Trigger Warning(s): none

Prompt: Finally, the rhythmic bouncing of the ball helped me get my breath under control. I took in a deep breath. The sound of screaming fans and the announcers narrating my movements faded as the hoop drew closer.

Half court. Three point line. Free throw line. Just one point would break the tie. Ten seconds left on the clock. I readied myself, and shot.

^^^

Earlier that day, my mother, my father, my older sister--Jessica--, and my three younger siblings--Lynn, Mark, and Sam--were all piled in my stuffy little car. Today was the day of my big game, and my family had flown in only just last night.

"Brevin, are we almost there?" Mark whined.

I smiled, glancing at him sandwiched between his younger brother and twin in the rear view mirror.

"Not yet," I said. Mark groaned, slumping on Lynn's shoulder. He shoved him off roughly, then returned to staring out the window.

"No fighting," my mother commanded. "You can go ten more minutes"

Ten more minutes of incessant bickering lead us to the front gates of the T-Mobile Arena. Already, hundreds of people were huddled outside, wanting to be the first to claim seats when the public would be allowed entry.

I pulled out my ID and removed my sunglasses. Showing the security my face and giving them my card, they checked me over then waved me through.

"That was anticlimactic," Jessica muttered, removing one of her earbuds from her ear.

"It's just security," my dad replied. "What were you expecting?"

Jessica shrugged. "Maybe some screaming fans and swooning girls chasing Brevin?"

I snorted.

"There's bound to be plenty of that soon," my dad muttered under his breath. I jabbed him with my finger.

At the parking lot, we split ways. I headed down to the floor of the arena, where several of my teammates and opponents were already shooting hoops. I waved, and they waved back. I didn't bother checking the stands; it would take a while for my family to get all the snacks they wanted.

"Hustle on down, McCall," my coach, Bryant Evermoore, hollered. "We've got some warmups to do."

^^^

I fiddled with my water bottle, trying to ignore the slowly filling stands and the rising babble of conversation. On my right was Jake Hargrove, my best friend since kindergarten. He flashed a confident smile at his girlfriend and blew her a kiss. I shook my head and elbowed him.

On my left was Nathan Ricks, son of the head coach of the opposing team. He was a nice guy, and could shoot three pointers like picking grapes off a vine.

I finally found my own group of friends, whom I had gotten exclusive tickets for. I counted four heads. Not bad. Only two tickets wasted.

I waved, and they waved back in a flurry of arms.

"Alright men, listen up," Coach Evermoore shouted, drawing us all into a huddle. "No matter what happens, play hard. I won't lie, I would love a win, but we've proven our worth by making it to the semi-finals. Jake?"

Jack stuck his hand in the middle, and we all followed suit. It might seem childish, but having a cheer just added to the fun of the game.

I hollered the chant at the top of my lungs along with everyone else, then pumped my fist into the air.

Jake waved his hands, raking in cheers as our first set of players jogged onto court, green and black jerseys flashing under the lights.

I sat back down on the benches with Nathan, leaning forward in anticipation. The real chaos was about to begin.

^^^

I set my hands behind my head, drawing in gasps of air. My teammates handed over water, slapping my back and shoulders. We'd been fighting head to head the entire game. The score was 95 to 95. The final quarter was almost over, with a little less than three minutes to spare.

"Good job men," my coach encouraged. I rubbed my face with a towel. "We've almost got that win. Just three more minutes of holding them back, and this game is ours."

We could feel the victory at our fingertips. It danced, just out of reach. One more push, we'd be in the finals.

"McCall, I want you back out there. Ricks, Reed, I want you back out too. You other two, sit down and I'll switch you out."

Taking a final sip of water, I hurried back out onto court with Nathan and Oliver. We were joined by Jake and Mathew Johnson.

For the next few minutes, it was a desperate rush of attempts to get the upper hand.

Two and a half minutes. Jake barely missed a shot, Number Twelve of the opposing team managing to tip the ball away with a clip on the leather sphere.

Two minutes. The ball was in enemy hands, slowly making its way back up the court.

One and a half minutes. They were at our hoop.

One minute. I grit my teeth as Nathan barely blocked a dunk.

Thirty seconds. The ball was suddenly in our hands. I turned heel and ran down the court, opening myself up to a pass.

And then the ball was in my hands. The roar and rush of adrenaline faded into calm. The rhythmic bouncing of the ball helped me get my breathing under control. I took the ball all the way down the court. Ten seconds on the clock. I drew to an abrupt halt as soon as the ball left my hands, stumbling past the free throw line. I nearly missed the moment when the ball dropped through the hoop in a neat swish.

The buzzer sounded. And then the stadium was on its feet, screaming in a wild, exuberated cacophony.

I was immediately surrounded by sweaty players and shouting teammates.

I laughed in disbelief. Jack pulled me into a hug. "You did it!" he yelled. "You did it, man!"

Unable to help myself, I whooped, throwing my hands up into the air.

"We did it!" I exclaimed. "We get to move on to the finals!"

"Nathan McCall, with the winning shot!" one of the announcers cried, his voice booming over the crowds.

"What a shot!" his partner added.

I took in a giddy breath. We had really won. This game was ours.