Chapter 8

35 6 0
                                        

.
.
.
Zoe's POV
.
.
.
Why was I doing this to myself? I questioned in my head as I "hustled" to line up for the three man weave drill. Again. It was mid November, two weeks into basketball practice and I was hating it. With a torrid passion. Why did I ever give in to Kat's pleading?

"Alright girls, we're gonna do this until you make 10 shots in a row. You drop the ball, we run. End of story. Hustle!" Coach Sanders blew her whistle signaling the start of the drill. Kat was in the first group of three girls and they passed the ball flawlessly as they ran to the other end of the court where upon Kat made a layup without a hitch. She made it look easy.

"One!" We all chanted in unison. Apparently it was 'our responsibility to count as a team.' My group was coming up. Great.

"Grace!" Sam shouted as she chest passed to my teammate before running behind her, allowing Grace to run forward. Grace, in turn, called my name and passed to me before doing the same. I then passed to Sam and so on and so forth.

We made it to about half court before Grace made a hard pass to me while I was still running forward and I whizzed right past my head and into the bleachers. Sam and Grace turned around and ran to the baseline while I went to get my ball. I heard another girl on the team, Madison giggle from behind me.

When I made it back to the baseline and handed the ball off to the next group, I went over to the sideline expecting coach Sanders to start barking at me, telling me how many sprints I had to run. Instead, she said something worse. Directed to the group that was now making their way down the court, she yelled, "Oh no! Stop right now and get on the baseline! This is a team. If one runs, we all run." She then smiled at herself and in that moment I thought she looked evil.

For the duration of the practice, we ran suicides. Up and down, up and down we sprinted. I became all to familiar with the gym floor when I stumbled over my own feet and fell face down. Just to add insult to injury, I heard Madison's high pitched giggle again as the sound of everyone else's sneakers traveled to the opposite end of the court while I picked myself up.
.
.
.
"Good job today, Zo!" Exclaimed Kat in the locker room. Even though she did a good job of hiding it, I could tell that comment was forced.

"Yeah. I'm great at tripping," was my sarcastic reply as I peeled off my sweaty t shirt, exposing a hot pink underwire bra in a room full of white Nike sports bras. Changing in here was a nightmare.

"No, really. I think you're improving," Sam added while she threw her brunette waves into a messy bun.

"Uh huh. I'd be 'improving' a lot more if Sanders would actually tell me what I'm doing wrong instead of just screaming at me and blowing her stupid whistle," at this I heard Madison guffaw from the other section of the locker room.

Kat and Sam exchanged a look. "Well, maybe Kat and I can solve that part of your problem," Sam said with a knowing smile.

What?
.
.
.
Stella's POV
.
.
.

November is turning out to be an interesting month for me already. This morning Ian was pestering me at my locker again. Thank God Zoe wasn't there. This time it could have gotten ugly.


"Hello, beautiful," Ian said when he saw me in the hall, trying desperately make my way to my locker unnoticed. I'd had a bad morning. I ignored him, hoping against hope that he would for once take a hint and just go away.

"Why are you so depressed looking lately? Has that goth ass Zoe gotcha down? She sure gives me the creeps so I understand," he said propping himself against the wall with one hand, blocking my path and forcing me to stop and talk to him.

Stay CourageousWhere stories live. Discover now