![]() ![]() This is technically just a preseason game, but it’s against Candlehawk Prep, our rival high school, and right now we’re trailing them by eighteen points. The opposing team grabs the rebound and my ears burn as I run back to play defense on the other side of the court. ![]() The ball is usually so controlled in my hands, but tonight it’s like I’m chucking a giant potato through a wind tunnel. I play shooting guard, so I’m supposed to, you know, shoot, but this is the third time I’ve taken a shot that hasn’t even touched the rim. ![]() It’s almost as humiliating as the air ball I lobbed up a second ago. “No more shots! Give the ball to someone else!” She’s only using my last name because she can’t remember my first name. “Zajac!” Coach screams, waving wildly at me. You would think, based on the fact that I’ve played varsity basketball for three years now, that I know how to score a basket. ![]()
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