Judgement Day
Anomaly, Part 3
“Remember what I taught you,” Dad tells me.
“What? How you trick Ma into thinking you can’t iron your own work shirts?”
He begins to chuckle .“I can never get them perfect like she can. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Yea. I know.” Silence falls over both ends of the phone.
After what feels like an hour, Dad breaks the silence. “You’ll do great, Kris.”
“Thanks…”
“And don’t worry about those other kids. Only thing they can do is talk.”
“I know…”
“Your Mama sends her love…Hey! You can call him on your own phone.” I could hear them wrestling over the cellphone in the background.
“Hey, baby.” Ma won. “You show them, alright? You’ll do amazing.”
“Thank you, Ma.” I lean up against my car. Other students are piling through the school exit, heading toward their rides.
“Give me my phone.” They’re still having a playful scuffle on the other end. Both of them are laughing. I don’t want our conversation to end, but I have to force my legs towards the gym sooner or later. After a handful of ‘I love you’s, I end the call. Now it’s just me and my jittery nerves.
My gym bag weighs fifty pounds on my shoulder as I walk through the double doors. I trade the cream hallway tile for the wooden court floor. My eyes find the bold warrior logo in the center of the court.
I am a warrior, and I’ve got the scars to prove it, I tell myself.
A group of boys are hanging out on the cobalt bleachers already, lost in their own conversation. One of them glances at me as I pass them. Soon I feel all their eyes on me with every step I take.
Don’t look at them, I repeat to myself. I can hear them talking, but my brain can’t make sense of the words. My pulse pounds against my temples. I take a seat before my legs give out from under me. To my relief, they stay where they are.
I silently watch as more guys pour in. Some walk in one by one while others show up in small groups. One brave guy in particular pulls himself from the bleachers and stalks towards one of the ball racks across the gym. He glances towards the locker room before grabbing a basketball. We all watch as he begins to shoot around. It isn’t long before people start to join in. I shove my headphones on and soon Spotify’s Today’s Hits playlist is drowning out the full gym.
As soon as Mr. Griffin marches from his office, we all huddle around in the middle of the court. He motions for us to sit on the floor. “Welcome to tryouts. You all want to be a Trinity Warrior.” His eyes bounce off of each of us as he speaks. “We’re going to start out with some drills testing out your dribbling, passing, shooting, and defensive abilities. Then we’ll end with a scrimmage, rotating you all in to see how you all play together.” He goes on about what he expects from us and what we should expect of him.
We all look past Coach as a younger man holding a clipboard strides out of the locker room. He uses one hand to pat down his striped tie as his eyes scan the clipboard. Coach twists his neck to see what we’re looking at.
He waves the man over. “Mr. Kasey, get on over here.”
“This is our new assistant coach, Mr. Kasey.” He points to his right just as Mr. Kasey steps beside me. “It’s his first year teaching with us.”
He offers us a nervous grin. “Hey, guys. I hope you’re all excited to tryout with us today. It’s gonna be a lot of fun.”
“We ready?” Coach doesn’t wait for us to answer. “Of course we are. Let’s go!” He grabs the whistle dangling from his neck and gives it a forceful blow.
Griffin starts us off by running. He wants us good and tired. As we all make our way over to the far corner to begin, Mr. Kasey waves me over. I find my way out of the crowd and make my way to him.
“You’re Kris, right?” He grabs my shoulder. We both stand facing everyone else rather than each other. Coach’s whistle shrieks and everyone begins to run.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Dunning told me about your uh… situation. Let me know if you need anything, all right? Good luck. We don’t make eye contact. He slaps my shoulder and takes a step back, letting me know our conversation is over. I take off behind the sea of boys.
I don’t know how long we race around the gym. I try not to think about it. Instead, I play songs in my head. I watch as one guy breaks away from us and rushes towards the bathroom with one hand cupping his mouth.
After we run, we start a blur of “do-this, do-that” drills — lay–up lines, catch and shoot, a dribble obstacle course, and passing drills. Everyone is too focused on looking good to pay extra attention to me.
I almost survive the day without much hassle. Coach waves us off for a break. Sweat soaks through the V–neck of my T–shirt. I grab a fistful of it anyway to wipe the fresh sweat from my forehead.
I stick to myself and focus on finishing strong. I bend down to thumb through my bag for my water bottle. I come across a neatly folded piece of paper first.
“You’ve got this, Son. Your old man always has your back.” –Love, Dad.
A smile spreads across my face before I realize it. I don’t even want my bottle anymore. I fold the note back up and shove it into one of my pockets. It’s not long before Coach’s whistle is beckoning us back to him.
Griffin reads ten names from his list while he jabs a meaty finger towards one side of the court. The rest of us sit on the sidelines.
Mr. Kasey grabs a basketball and heads towards the center of the court for the tip–off. “Show me what you’ve got, boys.”
Griffin stands on the opposite side of us with his whistle hanging from his lips. Kasey tosses the ball in the air, and they’re off. Yells and grunts fill the air as all ten guys play their hearts out. Every so often Coach pulls someone out and shoves someone else in. Mr. Kasey sits at a worn table and scribbles away on his clipboard. He pokes his head up and watches them play for a bit and then writes something else down.
“Kris!” Coach barks. My head shoots up. “Get in.”
I dash onto the court to take someone else’s place. I swallow the frog in my throat.
This is what you’ve been waiting for, I tell myself.
The ball hits me square in the chest. I snatch it into my dominant hand as Keith, the star of the team, lowers himself into a defensive stance. A smirk spreads across the senior’s face. I take a step towards him. Fear is nowhere to be found. Everyone moves away from us, spreading themselves across the court.
“Show her she’s playing with the big boys,” one of the onlookers shouts.
“Hey…” Kasey’s voice booms.
“Let them be, Kasey.” I glance at both coaches. Kasey gives Griffin a confused glance.
The crowd wants us to go one on one. Coach Griffin does too.
“You wanted this.” Keith’s voice brings me back to the task at hand. As soon as I approach the three–point line, he pounces on me. I drive right, but I feel him trying to force me back. We weave and dance our way toward the right corner. Kids back away from us even more. I spin and duck left while he tries to follow. He’s half a step behind. My eyes spot a lane to the basket, and I waste no time darting for it. I see two bigger guys crowd the paint, but it’s too late for me to back down. Keith plants his feet. Half of his body blocks my way. I crash into all three of them as I throw a shot up.
My back slams onto the court floor. I can only watch as the ball rolls around the orange rim. The two big guys box their match–ups out, preparing for the rebound. The ball rolls in and falls through the net.
“What are you doing?” Griffin’s voice tears my eyes from the rim.
I don’t say a word. I roll over onto my stomach and push myself to my feet.
“Taylor was wide open.” He jabs a finger towards another guy standing in the left corner. I still don’t open my mouth.
I watch as he takes a step on the court. “You deaf now?” He storms right up to me. “Williams, do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” I force out. My tongue feels like sandpaper.
“You didn’t see Bennett open?”
“The shot went in…”
“That’s not what I asked you.” His finger pokes my chest. “Did you not see Bennett?”
“I didn’t.”
“This isn’t hero ball.” He takes a deep breath and steps back. When he’s off the court, he brings the whistle up to his lips and blows for us to start back up. What does he want from me?
I turn to jog back on defense when a hand slaps my back. “Nice shot.” Then look to my side to see the lanky guy who was on the left give me a thumbs–up as we head down court.
“Thanks.” I call after him. He just nods as he darts across the court to meet his match–up.
Keith brings the ball down. Once his eyes find me, he strides towards me with the ball bouncing between his legs. Confidence fills his every step. I don’t back down. He greets me with the same malicious smirk. He turns and presses his back against me as if he’s backing me down in the paint.
“You had enough yet?” He asks. I push him back. He brings the ball up with his right hand and switches to his left. I keep my eyes on the ball and realize that his dominant hand is his right one.
He takes a step back and tries to spin off me, but the ball doesn’t stay in the palm of his hand, causing his dribble to go wide. I take a stab at it, sending it in the opposite direction. He staggers back, his eyes widening in shock. Our bodies briefly collide. I lunge towards the ball while trying not to fall on top of him. His butt hits the floor. Once the ball bounces into my hand, I take off towards our own hoop.
“Powell!” Griffin yells, but it’s too late. I lay the ball up for a quick two points. Bennett and I are the only ones smiling.
I zip my bag and make a beeline for the door as soon as Coach says we’re done for the day. Kasey nods in my direction as he gathers his papers.
“You have fun?” Jayden is two steps behind me, “This is the only taste you’re going to get.”
“Whatever you say.” The door clicks behind me, leaving Jayden on the other side. The cool October air greets me as I exit the school building.
The roster gets posted on Friday. I have a 1–in–32 chance of having my name on that list. Principal Dunning forced Coach to let me tryout, but he can’t make him give me a jersey.
Friday feels a million miles away.
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