Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 2)

My face tightens.

“Maybe he didn’t stop to consider it?” Cap asks, hopeful.

“Maybe he plans on her not being there,” I say, and they frown. “That just means we need to set him straight. She’s an area we won’t budge on. He’ll understand.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Cap sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “So, do I trust that all this won’t make it worse with Zo? I mean all the shit Perkins threatened, the group home assholes being on the property, all the shit we’ve pulled ... I can’t lose the little time I have with her.”

“With him home, things are different, the threat is higher,” I tell him.

We all know it’s true, that’s why he says, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Coach comes in right then, smacking his hand against the row of lockers as he makes his way to the center, and everyone faces forward.

“This is it, gentlemen. Last fucking game of your high school careers. Some of you will move on to play in college, some of you will never play again, so make tonight count. Go out there, give every ounce of yourself, and walk away tonight as district champions.” Everyone cheers, and he nods. “Graven Prep will not make this easy on you, make them wish they had.”

He lifts his hand and it starts, wolf calls surround us until each and every one are in sync. He starts clapping and everyone follows. “Let’s go boys!” more howls. “Let’s fucking go boys!”

We jog from the locker room, through the hall and burst into the gym.

The crowd stands and starts screaming, my baby right there, front and fucking center just behind our bench as we take our lap around the gym, stopping once we make it back to our court.

“No sign of Collins or Donley,” Cap whispers, and I nod.

I’d looked, too.

“This is our game, brothers.” Royce smacks both our backs as he jogs past, moving in to his warm-up drills.

Damn fucking straight it is.

There’s nothing like home court advantage for a champ game.

This is our school, our fucking people.

They will not beat us in our own house tonight.They might just fucking lose.

Down by eleven, they can’t get their shit together. For every shot they make, Graven Prep makes a three-pointer. For every three-pointer Maddoc makes, they get free shots from a fucking bullshit foul.

I’d like to know what’s up the referees’ asses tonight again, they’ve only called on us, even when Cap clearly took an elbow to the chin.

He held back, knowing what it would cost if he reacted, but too bad for the dude, Royce saw and has no chill, so the guy caught one back to the spine in the next move. He’s whining on the bench now.

Maddoc charges across the court and into position in perfect time for Mac to pass him the ball for a perfect shot.

It’s neck and neck, every person in this gym is on their feet, but all that can be heard is the squeak of sneakers across freshly polished flooring and the dribble of the ball.

They rally, and suddenly we’re only down by two, and everyone knows the ball is going to Big Man. The defenders flock him.

He manages to jump up and catch the pass, but when he pops up to shoot, he’s shoved by a Graven asshole and he falls to the ground, sliding across the floor.

Royce rushes forward, ready to lay him out, but Cap blocks him chest to chest while Mac helps Maddoc stand.

And now this is it, the refs can’t avoid it or turn a blind eye this time, and three free throws are given to Brayshaw’s all-star.

A slow smirk stretches across my lips and the crowd starts flipping out in excitement. They know their boy won’t miss.

Like nothing, one, two, three, Brayshaw now leads by a point with two seconds left on the game clock.

The ball is turned over and a lame attempt at a full court shot is thrown and missed right after the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the final game, Brayshaw High now district champs for the first time.

They jump up giving bro hugs and chest bumps, and each of my boys’ eyes flies to mine with pride shining through their game faces.

Good job, guys.

Maddoc winks and the three turn back around.

Refusing to shake hands with Grave Prep, the Wolves trample, with heads held high, toward their locker room. Graven slowly exits after them.

The stands quickly thin, everyone from Brayshaw ready to get their party on, the rest not wanting to be in here when the losing team re-emerges.

Vienna pops over to me with a grin. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Miss me?” she asks.

I frown. “You been gone?”

She shrugs, her lips thinning. “Went home for a bit, came back, went home again, thought maybe you noticed.”

“You know what, Victoria did mention it.” I nod.

Her nose scrunches a bit. “Yeah, so my dad fucked up his liver real good and was looking bad. Surprisingly he asked for me and social services thought it would be good. Said I’d benefit from spending some time with him sober and in case he croaked.” She rolls her eyes, speaking a little too quickly. “Little did they know he got his skanky girlfriend to bring those mini shots here and there when they docs weren’t watching. But whatever, he’s pathetic.” She glances around.