Learning Curves || Rise Donnie x Reader

⥤Twenty↭Two⥢

The days seemed to pass by in a blur. You tried to focus exclusively on basketball, and any down time you had you spent in the gym practicing the plays. It would've been admirable if it wasn't destructive, and Coach Anderson told you multiple times to stop practicing so hard. He could tell something was wrong, but you refused to explain and he wasn't about to force it out of you.

So he chose to watch you to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. Layla sometimes joined him, and they talked about the upcoming game.

"The big day's tomorrow!" Layla said, shifting in her spot on the bleachers excitedly. Coach Anderson nodded as he leaned back.

"Did you tell your professors you'll miss class?"

"They've known all week. They told me it's been a while since Eastlaird has been to state for girl's basketball."

"It has. I'm very proud of you girls." You could hear him clearly in the quiet gym, but you were pretty sure he said that a little louder than normal so you would hear it. You nodded at him, but didn't say anything.

"You think she'll finally stop this, well, whatever it is?" Layla's voice was soft, but again, the gym was too quiet to hold a private conversation.

"I hope so." A sigh. "Are you sure you don't know what happened?"

"All I know is she lost her phone, she's not talking to the guy she was interested in anymore, and she's barely said a word." A matching sigh. "She doesn't even want to watch Jupiter Jim!"

"That's that show you watched when you were kids, right?"

"Yep." A pause. "I'm really worried about her." A loud chime echoed around the room as you stopped to shoot. "Um, who is this?" They huddled closer to look at Layla's phone, and you glanced over at them. Layla's eyes widened as Coach Anderson's eyebrows furrowed and he stroked his beard. "(Y/n)?" Her brown eyes met your (e/c) ones. "Someone that's claiming to be your advisor sent me some pictures-" You dropped the basketball and she stopped, glancing over at her Coach nervously.

"What did that bitch send?" you growled, marching over to the pair. Layla nervously turned her phone screen towards you, and you took it to look through the messages. It was screenshots between Kendra and your parents, and she continued to tarnish your name with each message. You read every single word she sent, and your grip slowly tightened as your pseudo dad and bestie looked on in concern.

"What's going on?" Layla asked softly as you finally looked up from her phone. You mulled the words over in your mind as you glared at the wall over their heads.

"Apparently Donnie's got some enemies, and they blackmailed me into giving them something that's supposedly really bad. They went back on their word and used that image of me and him against me, and now my parents have disowned me." You dropped the phone into Layla's lap with a forced, angry smile.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes pooling with sympathy. Coach looked just as sympathetic.

"(Y/n), you don't have to play at the game tomorrow-"

"Oh I'm playing tomorrow." You turned to head back towards the court and the ball you left on it. "And if I don't foul out, it'll be a miracle."

"And that's exactly why you shouldn't play," Coach continued, folding his arms with his signature disappointed father look. But this time it didn't work on you.

"You're gonna bench your best player?" you snapped, looking back at him as you shot the ball behind the 3-point line. Swish.

"If I have to."

"Then we're going to lose tomorrow." Silence would've surrounded you if you didn't purposely dribble the basketball aggressively into the floorboards.

"You aren't in the right headspace to play, kiddo." Coach walked down to the court, but you didn't stop to look at him.