Stepping Up

I watched from the sidelines as Taryn Parker dribbled the ball past half-court towards the three point line. She passed it off to a guard, then cut through the lane, looking for a backdoor lay up. Seeing, none, she ran to the top of the key, and received the ball. She head faked, and then shot a three, her curly blonde hair springing in the air with her. I’m nothing like Taryn Parker. I’m not an All-Star at basketball, I’m not as popular, but I am prettier. My hair is straight and red and long. During the season, I normally keep my hair in braids. I have a pale complexion that freckles easily in the summer, especially on my nose and cheeks. I have gray-green eyes that are constantly the cause of an arguement between my mother and I. I guess you could say I am tall, because I am about 5’10 in height.

So, as Taryn sunk a three, everybody jumped up and cheered and whistled. Basketball is a big deal at Jameson Academy. Especially girls’ basketball. We’ve always been really good. For the last seven years in a row, we have won state. But this is my first year here. You see, I am a freshman at Jameson Academy. When I tried out, I made Junior Varsity, was a starting player, and played the whole game. Then when I was moved to Varsity, I became Taryn’s substitute. Some of the girls said I was lucky and though that I would be friends with her. But I disagreed. I disliked her. A lot. Hate is too strong of a word to use when talking about Taryn though. Taryn’s a senior this year, so when she graduates, I will become the next All-Star of Jameson Academy.

Gradually my eyes drifted to the scoreboard, checking the score. We were ahead with a score of 67, while Newton had 54. We had about thirty seconds left to play.
“Come on ladies!” I shouted, trying to encourage them to keep up the great work. Students in the stands cheered, becoming one with their inner-cheerleader selves.
“Ten seconds ladies!” screamed the opposing coach. The other team, the Newton Railroaders, picked up their intensity, working the ball down the court, trying at one last attempt to score.
“Seven, six, five…” The Railroader point guard tried to put up a shot, but Taryn tipped it.
“Four, three, two…” The ball bounced off the rim.
“One!” The crowd screamed. Everybody on the bench jumped up, screaming, laughing and hugging each other.

After the game, some of us ganged up to get some supper before the hour long drive back to Wichita. I went with my friends Trina, Jez, and Kelcy. We went through Sonic, and the person taking our order messed it up, so we got our food free. Eventually we headed home, the four of us in a fit of giggles and excitement. When Kelcy dropped me off at 11:30, I was utterly exhausted. I let myself in, and immediately sought refuge in my spacious bedroom. I slipped out of my red and gold uniform and pulled on a pair of gray sweats and a red long sleeve shirt with the Jameson Jaguar on it. Sliding into the bathroom, I turned on the dim lights so as not to blind myself. Just as I finished taking my contacts out, my cell phone rang, playing the song “4 Minutes” by Madonna and Justin Timberlake. I rushed to my phone, reading the text message. It was from Kelcy. As I got further into the message, my hands began to shake. I wasn’t sure if I’d read it right. Taryn was… dead? How could she be dead? I’d seen her alive little more than an hour and a half ago!

I texted Kelcy back, asking her if it was true. While I was waiting for a reply, I read and reread the message. How could this be? We needed her for our championship game! We were going to lose! I know I that I didn’t like her, but, I did talk to her occasionally. And then I cried. Tears overflowed, like a dam being crushed by a forceful body of water. I cried myself to sleep, before anything else could destroy my safe little world in one blow.

The next morning, I woke up slowly and lay in bed. My eyes were red and puffy from so much crying. I sluggishly jumped in the shower and then got dressed, putting on a pair of clean Jaguar sweats and red hoodie. I skipped breakfast; food just didn’t seem appealing at the moment. As I climbed onto the bus, eyes awkwardly avoided me as I made my way to the back. Evan, my sophomore boyfriend, said, “Gosh Marsha, you look terrible. What’s wrong?” I sat down next to him and leaned my head against his shoulder, my hair forming a loose rippling shield around me. A small sanctuary. I pulled my phone from my pocket and silently showed him the message. He didn’t say anything, but instead hugged me closer to him. I was miserable. When I got off the bus, I instantly began searching for Kelcy. As I spotted her long black hair, I ran up to her and gave her a hug. She’d been friends with Taryn.
“Why did you even want to come to school Kelc? I could hardly wake up!” I wanted to ask. But sometimes there was no need for words between us. She hugged me back, salty tears flowing from her green, cat-like eyes.
“I’m so sorry Kelcy.” said one of her junior friends. They didn’t seem as upset as Kelcy and I. Of course, they didn’t play ball.
“What are we going to do?” Kelcy asked.
“Wait and see I guess.” I answered, tucking a stray red hair behind my ear. “No doubt Coach is terribly upset about it.”

During school, teachers gave us passes, and other students watched in silence. In one night, Jameson Academy had turned into a ghost town. In fourth block at the end of the day, the whole basketball team was called for a meeting. As I walked out the door, the teacher smiled uselessly. Smiles weren’t going to make everything better in a matter of seconds. It might work on a little toddler who scraped their knee, but not on teenage girls who had just lost an important team member. Once all of us were in the locker room, Coach Limmens began bawling, mascara running down her face in black streaks. Simultaneously, we all hugged her. Coach hugged Kelcy, who happened to be standing next to her. Finally Coach stopped crying. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt, soaking it.
“Girls, we’re pushing back the game until Friday.” Girls moaned. Others sighed. “Two days away at this moment in time. I don’t want any of you blaming each other for what happened to Taryn. It wasn’t anybodies fault in here. That belongs to a drunk driver. We won’t have practice. Try to relax. I want all of you to play for Taryn.” Coach Limmens glanced at me, probably remembering the fist fight the two of us had gotten into at the beginning of the season. “Got it?” We all nodded. “Good.” We left in small groups of three or four, leaving Coach to wallow in her despair.

The next day at lunch, Kelcy texted Trina, saying it was her brother, Tom’s, fault for killing Taryn. Trina broke into a sob and ran away to a different table. By the end of lunch, the whole Varsity basketball team blamed themselves and each other for Taryn’s unfortunate death. It was horrible. Two girls got into a fist fight, and three others started screaming at each other. Evan stuck close to my side as I cried in hysterics. How could this be happening? We were all fighting over something that Kelcy had started to make Trina feel bad.

The day of the game arrived. None of us spoke. I stayed close to Evan and my non-basketball friends. By the end of the day, I was nervous. An hour and a half later, I stood on the court, dribbling a ball between, my legs.
“Kelcy, Trina, Fisher, Sweeney, and Marsha; you’re all starting. Practice your shot Sween-Bean. Marsha, come ‘ere.” I dribbled over to Coach Limmens.
“Yeah Coach?”
“Just play smart and don’t screw up. Think of this as your trial to see if you’ll start next year. Now get out there!”

And then it started. We got the jump, compliment of Jessica Sweeney, and began working down the court. At two minutes left in the first quarter, we were down by thirteen. Into the second quarter, I made two three pointers, but had five turnovers. When I passed the ball to Kelcy, she immediately put up a shot that would no doubt miss.
“Come on Kelcy!” Jessica shouted. “Get yourself together!” The next time we had possession, Kelcy shot again and missed. At the halftime, we were down by fifteen. I lead the team into the locker room. As soon as we were inside, we all began yelling; all fifteen of us.
“SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!” I screamed, standing on a bench. Everybody stopped talking all at once.
“Who made you coach?” a girl asked.
“Nobody. But what would Coach Limmens say if she saw us now? Huh? We would be a disgrace not only to Jameson Academy, but to Coach, ourselves, and even Taryn. What would she say? Her dying is none of our faults. It just happened. So don’t yell and scream at each other just because you think that the other had something to do with it. If we keep arguing, we will lose for sure. But if we get along, we have a chance! We need to win this. We need to win it for Taryn, like Coach said. Just because we lost her, doesn’t mean we can’t win without her. We can still do this! Right?” A few girls mumbled. “Right?” I asked again. They cheered and hollered. Never had such a sweet sound filled my ears. “Jaguars on three. One, two, three-“
“Jaguars!” we cheered together. WE rushed back out onto the court.

And it began. We worked together and didn’t fight. We were one once again. At the end of the third quarter, we were trailing by three. Now, it was the last eight minutes. Eight minutes to prove we were a team. Eight minutes to show that we could win this. Then the final minute. Coach Limmens shouted; we were up by two. We held them off. We scored more. We still held them off. The buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game. All of us stood in awe, staring at the scoreboard. We’d done it. We’d won. 65-59. Close, but we’d done it. I turned and hugged Coach Limmens. I briefly noted her crying. We’d proved we were a team. We’d won for Taryn. We’d won.