Just a Few Inches

5' 8'', 135 lbs.

Even a few inches can make a difference.

The basketball swooshed as it passed through the net. Just a few inches off in any direction and it would have bounced on the metal rim, maybe into the basket or maybe away and into the hands of a jumping member of the opposing team. But with only two minutes left to play in the game, that accurate three-point shot finally put the Montvale Tigers ahead. The spectators in the gym started chanting Todd Pembroke's name.

He was the captain of the team, a four-year varsity player for Montvale High, top scorer the previous year, and among a handful of players in Tigers history to score over a thousand career points. He had already been recruited by colleges and committed to the University of North Carolina. And he was my boyfriend.

Coach McCarthy called a time-out, which was our cue to work the crowd. "Gimme a T!" we'd call out, and the crowd repeated every letter we asked for until Tigers was spelled.

We had been sitting in the front row of the home-side stands waiting in anticipation for the Tigers to at least tie up the game. Even though we were all dressed the same-TIGERS emblazoned in orange letters across the black background of the top half of the V-shell sweater, and the traditional multi-pleated skirt, also orange and black-once we leapt up, I was easy to pick out back then. At five-foot-eight, I was one of the tallest girls on the squad.

Though we were the same height, cheer captain Janelle Taylor acted like she was taller, always looking down her nose at others. She had been Todd's girlfriend before I was, even though she had dumped him in the fall to date the quarterback of the football team. Todd and I got together at the start of the basketball season, and I sometimes wondered if I was his rebound girlfriend or if he still harbored some feelings for Janelle. That didn't bother me as much as the way Janelle flirted with him like she knew he wasn't over her, and I feared that maybe she was trying to break the two of us up.

When the game resumed, I sat on the bench between my two closest friends, Trish Simmons and Lauren Burke. Though most of my attention was on the game, particularly on Todd who had just caught a rebound of an opponent's missed shot, I kept a watchful eye on Janelle further down the bench. She was also watching Todd, but I was convinced she was watching in more than the usual faithful fan of the team kind of way. Her lips were pursed as she gawked at him.

"Carrie," whispered Lauren. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

"Do what?" I asked, pretending not to notice that she had been watching me watch Janelle watch Todd.

"You know, torture yourself about you-know-who. Just because Todd was with her once doesn't mean he wants her back." Lauren glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one else, especially Janelle, could hear.

"You know her type," added Trish, twirling a curl in her red hair. "Doesn't want the cute guy anymore but doesn't want anyone else to want him either."

When the blaring horn signified the end of the game, Montvale had won by three points. The team had won fifteen out of sixteen games, and with only four to go, they were predicted to win the Maryland state championship. While fans applauded and cheered in the stands, the squad sprung off the bench and started our Tigers victory cheer.

Across the court, Todd glanced at me and I smiled back. Then his eyes panned across the squad and stopped dead center. There was Janelle, jumping up and down.

"It's her chest," I said point-blankly to Trish and Lauren in the locker room after the game.

"Huh?" asked Lauren, as her brown hair popped through the grey sweatshirt she was pulling over her cheering top.

"Her breasts are huge, and they bounce around whenever she does. Guys get turned on by that kind of thing." I had taken off my sweater and was staring at my bust. Not as big as Janelle's. "I mean, look at mine."