Beyond the Point(20)
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Avery made her way to the Holleder Center, a large complex that housed coaches’ offices and a basketball arena for the men’s and women’s teams. She arrived twenty minutes early, hoping to shoot a few baskets before the rest of the team showed up. She’d expected the locker room to be empty, but when she turned the corner, Avery found herself face-to-face with a girl who was standing in front of a locker, completely naked.
“Oh God.” Avery averted her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all good,” the girl answered. If Avery wasn’t mistaken, the girl chuckled, apparently amused by Avery’s blushing cheeks.
Dropping her hand from her eyes, Avery tried to act cool, but it was hard to ignore how stunning this girl was. She had smooth brown skin and dark freckles across her face that looked like a map of the constellations. With a small waist and muscle definition, she looked like she could be on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Avery felt suddenly mediocre by comparison.
“You should see your face right now,” the girl laughed as she put deodorant under her armpits.
“No. It’s no big deal.” Avery found her way to an open locker. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.”
The girl smiled wide. “I’m Dani.”
“Avery,” she replied. “So you’re here to play basketball?”
“Oh, because I’m black?”
“No . . . ,” Avery said slowly. She laughed. “I assumed you’re playing basketball because you’re in the women’s locker room before basketball practice.”
Dani smiled like Avery had just passed a test she hadn’t signed up to take. “That’s good detective work. Good attention to detail.”
“I guess that means you’re a plebe too.”
“I consider slitting my wrists most nights, so yes.”
They laughed, then dressed in silence for a while. But soon, Avery could no longer handle the quiet. It was hard to admit, but she knew it was true. After nearly ten weeks at West Point, Avery was desperate for a friend.
“So what position do you play?”
“Point guard. You?”
In that moment, it felt as though a hot knife had sliced through Avery’s gut. She busied herself fixing her ponytail, hoping that Dani wouldn’t notice her disappointment.
“What?” Dani asked.
But Avery didn’t answer, because right at that moment, another group of women flooded through the doors, and Avery took that opportunity to exit into the gymnasium.
It’s all right, Avery thought, trying to coach herself as she walked out onto the court and started to stretch. So what? So Coach Jankovich recruited two point guards. Who’s to say she’s any good?
THREE MINUTES INTO their “optional” practice, Dani had made it abundantly clear to everyone in the gymnasium that the team was only going to need one point guard. Time and time again, when they went after the same ball, Avery ended up on the floor, while Dani sprinted upcourt for an easy layup. The girl was fast and nimble. She dribbled the ball like it was tied to the center of her palm with an invisible string. Dani couldn’t have been taller than five foot four, but somehow, even her petite frame worked to her advantage. She kept her center of gravity low, fooling even the most seasoned defenders. Worst of all, the girl was obnoxiously confident, quickly aligning herself with Sarah Goodrich and the other Firsties, throwing high fives and patting butts, as if they’d all known each other for years.
“What’s her deal?” Avery said breathlessly to a new teammate, Hannah, when they’d both taken a moment to get water. Hannah Speer was also a plebe, and impossibly tall. When she looked at Avery like she didn’t know what she meant, Avery jutted her chin out in Dani’s general direction. “McNalley. She’s been showing off this whole time.”
Hannah just shrugged. “Everyone wants to make a good first impression. Can’t blame her for that.”
Avery found herself retreating to the bench for water more often than normal, simply to gather the emotional wherewithal to continue. There’s nothing worse than believing you’re talented, only to encounter a greater talent. And as the practice went on, Avery grew more and more despondent. Her performance went from lackluster to awkward, from awkward to embarrassing. And just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, she looked up into the stands to see a thin woman sitting in the shadows.
Even from so far away, Avery could see the whites of the coach’s eyes, trained on the court. Her long and slender fingers, wrapped around a pencil, were writing on a page on her clipboard.
The NCAA had strict rules about preseason practices—coaches weren’t supposed to be at practices until the regular season started. That’s why Sarah Goodrich had organized the practice instead of the coaches, and why she’d strategically added the word optional in the e-mail. But staring up at the coach in the stands, Avery’s ears turned red with frustration. So it was an ambush. This “optional” practice was, in fact, an exhibition.
AFTER PRACTICE, THE locker room filled with steam. The black and gold striped carpet hid years of sweat and smelled dank with age. Maybe the girls were tired, or, Avery thought, maybe they’d noticed Coach Jankovich in the stands, too, because other than the sound of water spraying out of the showerheads, it was quiet. Surely the coach would take into account the fact they’d been at Basic Training all summer—naturally, they were all a little rusty. Avery had nearly convinced herself that everything would be okay—that she would have another chance to prove her skill—when the locker room door creaked open.