ROSETTA

ROSETTA CHAPTER 23: TUNNEL VISION

Chapter 22: Tunnel Vision

{Xander Thompson - December 16, 2017}

It's practice the day before the finals, but I'm not thinking about anything other than the game. Not Rosetta. Not Malik. Just basketball. Every drill we run, I'm focused, laser-sharp, ignoring the heat of the gym and the voices around me. I've been putting up shots, barely passing the ball. I know the guys are getting frustrated, but it doesn't matter. Tomorrow is everything, and if we lose, it won't be because I wasn't locked in.

Coach is yelling something about teamwork—something about not passing during drills—but I brush it off. I'm not here for that. This is about scoring. This is about showing everyone, including the scouts, that I'm the one they want.

We start scrimmaging, and I'm all over the court. I see Malik coming down the lane, and for a second, I feel that tight ball of anger rising in my chest. The play is fast—too fast to think. I drive toward him, but I'm not careful. I lower my shoulder, bump into him hard, and hit him with a charging foul. He hits the floor hard.

"Xander!" Coach blows the whistle loud and shrill, stopping the play. "What the hell was that? You trying to take out your own teammates now?"

I just nod like I'm listening, but really, I'm not. Malik picks himself up slowly, rubbing his shoulder, but I don't apologize. I don't care.

Coach keeps yelling, but I can feel the rest of the team watching me, uneasy. Doesn't matter. We finish the scrimmage, and I keep shooting—passing just enough so they don't ride me too hard.

After Practice

Finally, Coach blows the last whistle of practice, signaling the end. I grab my water bottle and wipe the sweat off my face, ready to head to the locker room. But before I can leave, Malik walks up to me, rubbing his shoulder again like he's trying to get my attention.

"Hey man, I know you're pissed about everything that went down, but we're still cool, right?" Malik starts, his voice careful. "I'm sorry about everything, and we need to work together to win this thing."

I stare at him for a moment, then force a smile onto my face. "Cool? Yeah, Malik, we're cool." My voice drips with sarcasm. "But you're not playing tomorrow. Don't get that mistaken."

Malik blinks, looking confused. "What do you mean I'm not playing tomorrow? I'm your starting shooting guard, bro."

"No chance you're starting tomorrow," I say, crossing my arms. "Hell, you won't even be coming off the bench. You know why? Because Chance, unlike you, doesn't sleep with my girlfriend."

Malik's face tightens, his jaw clenching. "That's not your call, Xander."

I shrug. "You're right, it's not. But you know Coach's rule—when a teammate screws over another teammate, they don't play. And call me a snitch if you want, but I told Coach everything."

I can see Malik's expression shift, panic flashing in his eyes. "What? You told Coach?"

"Yeah," I say casually, like it's no big deal. "And guess what? You're not starting tomorrow. You're not even playing. So, make sure you've got our water cups ready. You're gonna be spending a lot of time sitting on the bench, watching me win us the finals."

Malik's breathing gets heavier, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares at me, his fists clenched at his sides. I pat him on the shoulder, my voice turning mocking. "Oh, and you might as well text Rosetta. You're gonna need some comfort after tomorrow. 'Cause I can guarantee sitting on the bench isn't gonna feel good, my guy. I love you, teammate."

I start walking away, feeling the tension in the air thickening. As I head toward the locker room, I hear a loud thud behind me—a basketball hitting the wall on the other side of the gym. Malik must've thrown it in frustration, but I don't turn around.

I don't need to.

The finals are tomorrow. Malik is out, and Rosetta is out of my head. It's just me and the game now.