The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

      “What’s the most amount of points you’ve scored in a game?”

      “Points or baskets?”

      “Points.”

      “Ever?”

      “Ever.”

      “Ninety-three.”

      “How is that even possible?”

      “Talent.”

      “Clearly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout baskets?”

      “Seriously, Dylan, why do you think that I would know?” I asked, throwing my backpack over my shoulder after dumping all my unneeded materials into my locker. School had ended a good one hundred and fifty-two seconds ago, so I no longer desired nor was required to be confined within the building.

      “Because you’re smart, and smart people usually keep track of crap like that,” he said, slinging an arm loosely over my shoulder. We began to walk down the hallway, inching closer and closer to the much-awaited exit. The entire day had dragged on, and felt as though it would never end. Ever since getting back from the Boston trip with him, things had been slightly different.

      Aside from stalking my mind of personal stats, the only thing he seemed to want to talk about was basketball. He wouldn’t leave me alone about it. Though it was refreshing to actually converse with someone about something other than shopping and football, it was a lot. He had been spending more and more time with me, finding my knowledge about the sport I loved quite the interesting topic. He was still the same Dylan I knew before, but there was something that just, well, different.

      Now, that wasn’t to say that the change was a bad thing—on the contrary, really. I loved being able to talk about basketball with a well-informed person, I really did. It was nice to be able to express who I truly was to someone without having to worry about ruining everything. Personality wise, I didn’t have to keep my full guard up anymore, and could be slightly more open. I had never enjoyed being myself more than I did with Dylan.

      “Forty-six,” I finally answered.

      “You scored forty-six baskets in a single game?” he gaped.

      “Yup,” I shrugged.

      “So, tell me again why you’re not playing for our school?” We continued to near the large doorway swarmed with teens.

      “Remember when I told you that people weren’t supposed to know that I played?” I questioned rhetorically with a sigh, thankful that he had finally dropped asking about my rationalization. He hadn’t been able to crack me during the four hours of hell I spent with him back to New York, and hadn’t brought up my motive in a while. “Yeah, well, playing for the school would pretty much defeat any and all secrecy of my abilities. Also, there is no way in hell that I would play for a school like this.”

      “Hey! What’s so wrong with Madison High?” he questioned defensively.

      I waited two moments of silence before it finally clicked in his mind and I chose to answer. “Uh, it’s Madison High. We’re in the middle of this suburban, rich kid community, and you expect me to play for their basketball team? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

      “Oh, c’mon! The girls’ team is pretty good… when they’re not fixing their hair in the middle of a game or complaining about having to cut their nails so they won’t chip, of course,” his argument crumbling just as fast as it came out of his mouth.