Against All Odds | Tyrus

19. Despair

❝TJ was still on the boy's basketball team and deserved the encouragement of a friend in the stands. And if that meant Cyrus yelling into a megaphone every time TJ made a basket, then that's what he'd do, regardless of the second-hand embarrassment it caused everyone else.❞

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TJ was thriving once again. He was glad he had the chance to redeem himself after losing to The Monarchs. He'd just been so distracted during the game; it was frustrating. But now, he was making every basket. He wished Buffy were there to see, but she was starting a girl's team and wouldn't be coming to practice anymore.

“Good job, Kippen,” the coach praised as TJ ran by. “Much better!”

“Thanks,” he panted.

Running up next to the key, TJ let the ball fly from his hands. It went straight through the net, but the satisfactory ‘thump’ never came as it was overtaken by the sharp thud of gym doors closing. TJ whipped his head around and grinned ear to ear. Cyrus was standing in the gymnasium, a megaphone in one hand and a rolled-up poster in the other.

“Woo! Nice basket, TJ!” he brought the megaphone to his lips and cheered.

Cyrus made his way over to the bleachers and unrolled his sign. He held it up and TJ stopped to stare. The poster had drawings of basketballs and read, ‘34 IS KIPPEN YOUR BUTT!’

TJ waved to Cyrus, laughing until a teammate, Michael Larson, came up beside him and muttered, “Uh, dude? You gonna shoot the ball?”

“Oh, my bad. I didn't realise I had it,” TJ replied.

He tossed the ball towards the basket but it didn't go in. Michael whistled, “Geez Louise! TJ Kippen misses again!”

TJ groaned before turning on his teammate with a sneer, “Shut up, Larson. Go back to Kensucky, why don't you?”

“Oh, ha ha. But you know I'm from Michigan.”

“No, I don't. Literally, all I know about you is your name and jersey number.”

“We have math together...?”

“I have math with twenty other people. Your point?”

“Nevermind,” he rolled his eyes. “I was just joking around about you missing, by the way. Don't take it so serious.”

“Whatever, man.”

They continued practice but TJ seemed to be in a funk. He barely got anything through the hoop, however, when he did, Cyrus would cheer. The coach grew annoyed with every missed shot. He blew his whistle and waved TJ over.

“You're probably just getting tired now. I'm benching you. Go take a break. We'll switch to drills while we wait,” he said.

“Okay,” TJ nodded.

He sat down on the gym floor, his back against the wall. As he took a sip from his water bottle, Michael approached him, another teammate tailing behind.

“I think I know why you were so bad in the last game,” Michael teased.

TJ swallowed his water and looked up in confusion, “Huh?”

“It's that dude you keep looking at.”

“You mean Cyrus? What about him? We're friends.”

“Just friends?” the other teammate, Rusty Jameson, asked with a smile.