Sharks

Chapter 4 - Taking The Lead

He checked the ball back to me, and I caught it, my fingers gripping the worn leather. This was it—the test, the challenge I had been waiting for. I wasn't just here to play; I was here to prove myself, to show Edward and anyone else watching that I was more than just a kid with a dream. I was Eddie, and I was ready for whatever came next.

I dribbled quickly, moving to my right, my body low, my eyes locked on Edward. He was focused, his stance wide, ready to react. I pushed forward, driving hard, then quickly pulled up, stepping back for a shot. The ball left my hands and flew through the air, hitting the net cleanly. The swish was music to my ears.

"Three-zero," I said, my voice carrying across the court.

Edward clenched his jaw slightly, nodding as he checked the ball back to me. I could see he was taking me more seriously now, and that made me want it even more.

I kept pushing. I jab stepped, then drove hard to the left, feeling my legs strain as I pushed off the concrete. Edward stayed with me, his feet moving quickly, but I spun, using my pivot foot to twist around him. I released the ball, and it banked off the backboard before falling through the net.

"Four-zero," I said, panting slightly. The adrenaline was keeping me going, but I could feel my energy slowly starting to drain.

Edward checked the ball back, his eyes narrowing as he watched me. He was playing tight defense now, his arms wide, ready to block any path I tried to take. I crossed over, faking to the right, then quickly darted left. I drove towards the basket, feeling his presence right behind me. I jumped, releasing the ball just before his hand reached it, and watched as it dropped through the hoop again.

"Five-zero," I called out, the excitement building in my chest.

I could hear the sound of my own breathing, heavy and labored, but I wasn't going to stop. Not yet. I dribbled to the top of the key, facing Edward head-on. I faked another drive, then pulled back, my feet barely leaving the ground as I took a quick jumper. The ball sailed through the air, and the net barely moved as it swished through.

"Six-zero," I said, my legs starting to feel heavier.

Edward's expression had shifted—he was serious now, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that told me he wasn't going to let me get away with much more. He checked the ball back to me, and I took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

I jab stepped again, trying to create some space. Edward wasn't budging, his stance solid. I drove hard, my feet pounding against the concrete, and I managed to get past him just enough to put up a layup. The ball hit the backboard and dropped through.

"Seven-zero," I said, my voice strained.

I was exhausted, but I had one more in me. I took the ball, dribbled slowly, trying to catch my breath. Edward was watching me, his eyes sharp, waiting for my next move. I faked a shot, then drove to the right, my legs burning with each step. I jumped, releasing the ball, and watched as it sailed towards the basket.

It bounced off the rim, and for a moment, I thought it was going to roll out. But it dropped in, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Eight-zero," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

I was tired—more tired than I had been in a long time. My legs felt like lead, my breathing ragged. I could see Edward studying me, a small smile tugging at his lips as he picked up the ball.