She Drives Me Crazy(69)

“I don’t understand,” she cries, wiping tears away.

The words that come out of my mouth aren’t planned. “It’s just a game, Tal. Shake it off.”

I shrug and run off, leaving her gawking on the floor. The game doesn’t resume until the Candlehawk coach subs her out.

In the final few minutes of the game, we’re neck and neck with Candlehawk. My competitive drive overtakes me again. Stress is rolling off Danielle in waves. The tension in the gym is palpable.

“We have to stop their point guard,” Danielle pants during time-out. “She’s their biggest scorer. I can’t keep up with her.”

“She’s not great with free throws,” I say. “We have to keep fouling her.”

“That means Danielle would foul out,” Googy says. “You’ve got four already, Danielle. One more and you’re out of the game.”

“I know,” Danielle huffs. “I’m trying to figure it out.”

An idea strikes me. “Hey … what if I guard her instead? I only have two fouls. Plenty to spare.”

Danielle frowns at me. “And I take your girl?”

“Exactly. On offense we’ll still play shooting and point, but on defense we’ll switch. If I get fouled out, it doesn’t matter. You’re our best player, Danielle. You have to stay in.”

Our teammates look at each other. The ref blows the whistle.

“Okay,” Danielle says.

The last three minutes pass quickly. I guard the Candlehawk point guard and draw two fouls when she’s trying to shoot, but the strategy works: She only makes one out of four free throws. Candlehawk is now up by only two points.

At just over a minute to go, their point guard drives to the basket. I sprint after her and block her shot. My hand never actually touches hers, but the ref calls a foul. My fifth and final one. I’ve officially fouled out of the game. The crowd boos in anger.

“It’s all good,” I tell Danielle as I head to the bench. “Stay focused. You can win this.”

Forty-five seconds to go. Thirty seconds to go. Candlehawk still leading by two. I can’t sit still on the bench; I spring up and bounce where I stand. Coach Fernandez is screaming, but no one is listening to her. All eyes are on the court.

Fifteen seconds to go. Danielle bringing the ball down to our side of the court. Ten seconds to go. Googy trying to get open for a pass. Five seconds to go. Danielle trying to shake her defender.

And then, in the final seconds, it happens.

Danielle breaks free and shoots the most beautiful three-pointer. It sinks cleanly through the net with a perfect, satisfying swoosh.

The buzzer blares. The gym is an explosion of noise. Bodies start pouring out of the stands and I am running off the bench and Googy is hanging all over Danielle and crying. I throw my arms around them and kiss my best friend on her sweaty head, and suddenly I’m crying, too. We’re a sauna of heat, bodies pressing in from all sides, and my family is there and Danielle’s family is there and Gunther has thrown off his mascot head and is yelling with the reddest face I’ve ever seen.

People are grabbing Danielle, shaking her, pounding her back. She’s practically lifted off her feet. Then suddenly Kevin is there, and his arms are around her, but before he can do anything else, Danielle pulls him in and kisses him.

I am sobbing. At least, I think I’m sobbing. It’s impossible to hear my own voice. My sisters are holding on to me, and Daphne is staring at Danielle and Kevin like they’re in a movie. Mrs. Zander is shrieking with glee while Mr. Zander stands dumbfounded next to her, his cheeks reddening by the second, until Mrs. Zander grabs his hips and pulls him into a dance. It’s so humid and I can’t breathe and it’s the best feeling in the world.

There’s an arm around my waist, a press of lips to my cheek.

“Congratulations,” Irene says in my ear. “That was some spectacular fouling out.”

I turn in her arms, hold her face in my hands. “Would you believe the last one wasn’t even real? I didn’t even hit the girl’s hand!”

“Mmm, I’m gonna call bullshit on that. You claimed you didn’t hit my car, either.”

“I hate you,” I say. Then I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her.





19


Life settles into a calmer pace over the next week. With the season over, and the trophy won, my afternoons are suddenly free. I spend the time hanging out in the parking lot with Irene and our friends.

On a brittle late-February afternoon, Irene shocks the five of us into silence when she casually announces she’s dropping out of the SAOY competition.

“Are you out of your mind?” Danielle asks.

“Irene, you can’t do that,” I plead. “You’ve been working toward this for months. Years, even.”

The boys stay quiet, but Honey-Belle says, “Let’s hear her out. I trust Irene’s intuition.”

Irene smiles. “Well, I hadn’t even told you this,” she says, kissing my temple, “but my mom had this big talk with me last night. Her office is filming a new commercial soon. She wants the squad to be in it.”

Honey-Belle’s eyes light up. “The squad?”

“The squad. Me.” Irene looks ready to burst. “She wants me to come up with a catchy cheer for Grandma Earl Eye Associates.”