Chapter 53: The Power Forward
You see, the thing about
being a basketball ‘star’ is that your every move is watched, scrutinized,
criticized, and dissected by scouts. College scouts to be exact. Oh sure there
are the few professional scouts out there for the National League, but at such
games, you’re more likely to see various colleges (all wearing something that
represents their colors) waiting in the wings to pounce on you like hungry
piranha. They are unscrupulous bastards. Willing to do anything to get the guy
they want, no matter the cost.
I watch as they target Jason
(our team captain), who just laps up the attention like a dog. He’s grinning
and shaking hands, allowing himself to be swept away with the prospect of
getting into a prestigious university – not based on his exam scores (which
would be pathetic since the guy hates studying) – but based on his athletic
ability. In fact, and truth be told, if any school decides to recruit me into
their team, I won’t need to open another book in an attempt to get ‘good
grades’. I’m not failing by any means, but my scores are not comparable to
Heero’s. The guy can sleep the whole day before a test, barely study and yet
ace it just like that. It can get
pretty annoying after some time. A few of the piranhas go for Akira, but when
they realize he’s still just a junior, they back off quickly. Coach Septum
isn’t having any of that – not that he’s not doing his best to puff out his
chest and display his senior players as his trophies. You can always rely on
him to have a sound bite or two about his favorite players.
“So, you are the famous Duo
Maxwell – the power forward.”
I still my movements (was in
the process of taking off my jersey) to eye the tall silver-haired man standing
beside me. I grin in recognition. It’s impossible not to. The familiar feature
of one of the most famous college basketball coaches in history is barely two
feet away from me. It’s none other than Coach Buster Rooney of the Woodruff
Blazers (and in case you’ve forgotten, that’s where Zechs attends). It’s a
surreal moment, but one that every other player in the room is now aware of.
It’s not everyday that such a famous guy walks into a high school locker room.
Flanking his sides, like bodyguards, are his assistant coaches, both as tall and
intimidating as their boss.
“Who wants to know?” I ask,
stalling for time, although my heart is pounding so hard within my chest, it’s
almost painful.
The coaches exchange a look
and then Buster breaks into his famous loud guffaw, before slapping a heavy
hand on my shoulder. Ouch. He’s
grinning, but I can see the steely look in his eyes. He’s not a man to be
fucked around with; a perfectionist at heart, Buster Rooney expects 200 percent
effort from his players, and with such a stellar record (winning the National
Collegiate Championships five years in a row), it’s no wonder he’s a legend in
his own time.
“A wise-ass,” he says dryly,
still smiling while my shoulder throbs with pain. If he doesn’t release me
soon, my entire arm is bound to go numb. “But I like you, Maxwell. You and
me…we need to talk.”
“Ah…” I steal a glance behind
me, watching the other players’ envious faces, especially Jason who had hoped
that Buster would have targeted him.
“How about we meet at Tony’s?
I hear they have great burgers, hmm?” Still smiling even though his eyes are
saying ‘Come there or else!’
“Sure. Sounds good,” I manage
to say with a nod, wondering if Heero will want to come with me. However,
Buster must have read my mind because he adds quickly. “Just you, son. We don’t
need any other parties in this conversation.”
“Yes…sir.” Fuck.
“Brilliant!” he booms and
squeezes my shoulder again. “See you there in half-an-hour, Maxwell.” He taps
his watch. Time is money. If you don’t
show up, you ain’t gonna make it anywhere else. All that is said with his
eyes, and as they finally make their way out of the room, the air seems to rush
back in with a ‘whoosh’. I’m unaware
I’ve been holding my breath for that long.
“Was that…?”
“Yeah, THE Buster Rooney…!”
“Fucking A!”
“I almost shit my pants when
I saw…!”
“Had no idea he was even
here…!”
I try to hide my smirk – some
smug feeling of superiority over the others – as their excited chatter washes
over me. However, a slight nudge and I look up to see Jason beside me. His lips
are twitching as if not sure if to smile or glower at me.
“Woodruff, eh?” he says in a
deadpan voice.
I shrug – it’s no big deal – and reach for a
towel. I have to take a quick shower, see Heero and let him know that I’ll be
dining and chit chatting with Buster in a few minutes.
“I got scouted by Kensington,
Dupont, Northwestern…”
“Yeah, that’s all great,
Jason,” I cut him off short, not really interested in listening to him brag
about this right now. “I’m sure you’ll make it in any of the other schools.”
Ouch. Didn’t mean to make it
sound like I was being a bastard, but hey, there’s Woodruff and then there’s
everyone else. Although Kensington’s their closest rival and all. The thought
of eventually playing against Jason, on opposing
teams, looks like it might happen. But then again, I just realize that I must
have placed Kensington as my first school of choice and Woodruff second. Hmm.
That’s not looking too good.
“…kick their asses.”
I blink in confusion. I
haven’t heard a darn thing Jason’s been saying, but I nod all the same – more
to appease him and make him get off my fucking back. The guy’s like a leech.
With less than ten minutes to
spare – the idea of pissing off Rooney has my insides curdling with fear for
some reason – I race out of the gym building….and promptly wish I hadn’t. A
waiting throng of students rushes towards me, still high on our win and their
need to touch their new ‘heroes’. However, someone tugs my wrist and I’m pulled
away and all but shoved into a waiting car. It’s Wufei.
“Thanks, man,” I pant
breathlessly as I buckle up and reach for my cell phone. “Think you can take me
to Tony’s?”
“Where did you park your
bike?” he asks, while pulling out and daring the students to remain in his way
as he backs out like a mad man.
I wave my hand in the general
direction of the parking lot, knowing there’s no way I can get there on time.
“Too far to get it now,” I mumble and call Heero.
“What’s happening at Tony’s?”
Wufei’s asking. “Heero and the others are still in school.”
I hold up a hand to tell him
to stop talking just as Heero’s voice fills my ear. “Where are you, Duo? We’ve
been waiting out here in the hallway. Wufei was coming over to get you.”
“I’m with him at the moment,”
I reply, watching the trees in the boulevard speed by us. “I’m on my way to
Tony’s though.”
A heartbeat of silence and
then Heero returns, sounding a bit strained (and mildly pissed off). “Tony’s?
What the fuck Duo.”
“It’s a long story,” I begin
quickly, hoping to appease him before he explodes. “But bottom line is that
Buster Rooney wants to see me. THE Buster Rooney, Heero! This is an opportunity
of a lifetime. I ain’t missing it.”
I notice Wufei’s widened
eyes. He knows all about Buster and can understand my need to be there.
However,
“Who the hell is that?”
I stiffen at the cold
question, a part of me annoyed that Heero couldn’t possibly know about the most
famous coach in all of college basketball history. It’s times like these that I
realize how little Heero really knows about the sport I love. He just plays it
for fun and can’t possibly –
“He’s only the greatest coach
in the history of college basketball, Heero.”
“And why is that important to
you right now? You have finals to study for.”
“Fuck that,” I mutter.
“What? What did you say?”
Barely able to keep my
growing irritation in check, I say curtly. “I said, it’s an important meeting,
Heero! If I am recruited, I won’t need to…” I stop myself from saying the
inevitable. It is true. If I am chosen to make the college team, it’s an
automatic shoo-in to Woodruff – one of the most prestigious colleges in the
fucking country. Education has always been kind to athletes after all.
“Look, I’ve gotta go,” I say
quickly, needing to end this conversation, lest I get into the restaurant
sounding like I’m eating a whole lot of sand. Arguing with Heero isn’t fun.
“I’ll talk to you when I get back home, okay? Bye.”
I switch it off…and then turn
it off completely, settling back in the seat and closing my eyes. I’m grateful
that Wufei says nothing, even though the questions literally seem to swell and
grow between us.
“Want me to wait for you?” he
asks, as we finally pull up to the famous hamburger joint. “I’ll drive you back
to school and you can pick up your bike.”
“Thanks,” I reply gratefully,
stepping out of the car and taking a much-needed deep breath.
“Hey, Duo!” he calls out and
I lean down to peer at my friend in bemusement.
“What?”
“….good luck…with the
interview thingy.”
I smile and give him a mock
salute. “Thanks. I’m gonna need it.”
__
Tony’s is as noisy as it’s
always been. The diner is a popular hang-out spot for teens and since tonight
was the game, it’s jam packed with our students – all still wearing their
school jackets or scarves or hats or flags or whatever else – to show their school
spirit. The wool hat stuck on my head isn’t much of a disguise and for the
umpteenth time, I curse for not tucking my braid into my jacket. I’m easily
recognizable and a few ‘Yay, Duo!’ or
‘Yo, Duo!’ or ‘Tha Man is in the
House!’ comes my way. The hot smells of sizzling steak burgers, greasy fries,
ketchup, relish and damp veggies assails my senses as my gaze drifts over the
crowded room. For a moment, I wonder if Buster has played a fast one on me, but
I notice one of his coaches waving a hand at me and I try to wheedle my way
through the crowded room and to the waiting group of men tucked away in a
corner of the boisterous establishment.
“You’re quite the popular
star, eh?” Buster says as I sit across him – not before shaking each hand
firmly. It’s a miracle my fingers haven’t been crushed yet. These guys look
even bigger in this cluttered space.
“Not really,” I mutter,
trying to play the shy, humble card right.
“Let the boy order some
food!” Buster rumbles and points to his plate laden with enough greasy food to
give him a coronary. “Hope you don’t mind us ordering before you, do you?”
“No, sir.”
“Hey, Duo!” comes the happy
cry from a familiar voice. I look up to see Cindy, the waitress (who has always
had the hots for me and we tend to flirt once in a while – harmless really),
grinning and all but bursting out of her tight t-shirt. “Great game tonight.”
“Thanks,” I reply, noticing
the men eyeing the well-endowed chest shamelessly. “What’s the special for
tonight?”
Cindy giggles and taps my nose
with her pen. “You are the special.
We’re having a Fujisaki night after all and whatever you order is on the house.
Chef’s orders.” She nods toward the kitchen and my gaze follows. Tony – the
owner – winks and waves at me and I give him the thumbs up sign.
“Does that apply to my
friends here?” I ask with as charming a smile as I can manage, and if her blush
is any indication, it’s working.
“Oh…well…I don’t see why
not,” she says, giggling and nodding at the men who all flash grins at her as
well. “Be back in a bit!”
She jiggles off and for an
extra second, we all stare at the taut ass encased in those painted-on jeans
and think of sinful thoughts, but reality is reared back in as Buster clears
his throat and takes a swig of his beer.
“I’ll cut to the chase,
Maxwell. We want you at Woodruff.”
Wow. He really wastes no
time, does he?
“We’ve been watching you the
whole year,” he continues in between bites of his fries, a stern look on his
flushed features, while I try to digest this new piece of information. The
whole year? Shit! You mean every game…?
“Yes, every game,” Buster
cuts in. I swear the guy IS a mind reader. “Not me personally, but Salinger
here,” he nods toward the guy sitting beside me. “And
He launches into tales of how
the Woodruff basketball program does their best to recruit the most talented
high school players in the country. Everyone should have a shot at getting to
college, but their athletic program was second to none. Whenever he speaks of
Kensington, bitterness creeps into his voice and expletives like ‘fucking place’
or ‘that shit hole of a school’ is all he seems to address the college with. He
speaks of the players in the team at the moment, and he need not have since I
already know them all by heart. They are only the most famous collegiate
basketball team in the country and the very idea of being associated with
them…hell, it’s a pretty heady feeling. Even when my food arrives, I barely
taste anything as I’m sucked into Buster’s enthusiastic explanation of life as
a real basketball star.
“You are looking at a chance
at the big leagues, son,” he finishes with a flourish. “We have a high number
of college players who end up making it to the National teams. So think about
it, but not too long. I’m sure that Jason fella would love to have a chance at
this.”
I bite my lower lip,
realizing that he’s trying to hit below the belt. He must know about Jason’s
determination to take my spot in Woodruff and it’s not something I want to
happen. But then again…
“Woodruff isn’t my first
choice. It’s….” The word ‘Kensington’ lodges in my throat and I can sense that
the older men realize it. I imagine Heero’s face as I tell him about my
decision to switch schools. If memory serves me right, he was never really into
staying at Woodruff to begin with.
“Doesn’t matter what your
first choice is,” Buster reassures me with a grim smile. “You just sign the
papers, come over for orientation and you’re as good as admitted!”
I blink in disbelief. “Just
like that?!”
“Just like that!”
“Wow…” I muse over this piece
of news, chewing absently on my burger but tasting nothing. The thought of not
spending countless hours staying up and trying to cram chemical equations or
mathematical equations or the geographic location of this or that is more than
tempting. I could walk into the exams, do as best I can and get into the most
sought-after college in the country. To think that students almost commit
suicide when they don’t get accepted or have to be put on a waiting list….just wow.
“So what’s it going to be,
Maxwell? Would you like to wear the crimson and gold of the Blazers? Become a
part of history?”
“Yeah….”
A slam of his hand on the
table in victory. “Excellent! Now where are those papers…”
“…after my year off,” I
finish quietly.
That gets them stumped.
“After…what?” Buster asks in a calm voice, but I can hear the irritation
bubbling beneath the surface.
“My bo…my friend and I are
taking a year off to see the world once we graduate high school,” I explain, my
heart thundering within my chest. “You know…we’ve been studying for so long and
we need the break…” My voice trails off and I realize how lame I sound. Here I
am being offered the chance of a lifetime and all I’m concerned about is some
trip.
“Hmm.”
I fiddle with my fork, unable
to look at the great man’s face. I suddenly feel like a failure – as if I’ve
let him down and I feel sick inside.
“He wants to travel the
world,” Buster says to his silent cronies. “Hmm.”
Say something…anything! My mind screams, but the only sounds are those of
chewing or slurping as they keep eating in silence.
Finally, Buster leans back in
his chair with a satisfied belch. “Well, thanks for the meal, Maxwell. It was a
pleasure getting to know you, son.”
What? What?! They can’t be leaving!
“But…”
“But what?” he clips tightly.
That smile is on his face again, the one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I
drove all the way down here to pick me a basketball star, but turns out we have
a regular goddamn globe trotter on our hands. Tell you what son, you enjoy your
vacation and when you return, be lucky if you find any school that remembers
your fucking name.”
Just like that, my world
comes crashing down. Whoever said that quote of ‘sticks and stones may break my
bones but your words can never hurt me’ or some shit like that – must have been
smoking something on that day. Buster might just have well have ripped out my
heart, stomped on it and eaten it as part of his meal. I feel crushed and
deflated, aware that I’m squandering a very golden opportunity. A gale rises
within my head, the sounds of students laughing and chattering amongst
themselves, in the diner, becoming subdued as a million and one thoughts rush
through my mind. What am I going to do? What the fuck do I do?
“…talk to that Jason
fella…seems promising…”
“No.” My voice seems to be
coming from a mile away – as if disembodied and I’m listening to a husk of
myself speaking to the men now staring at me. No way in hell am I going to let
Jason steal my thunder. He’ll rub it in my face and brag about it until he runs
out of breath.
“No?” Buster folds his arms
across his massive chest and sneers at me. “No what, Maxwell?”
I look into those steely
eyes, knowing he’s daring me, forcing me to take the bait, to stop acting like
a goddamn wuss and to be a man for once.
And taking a deep breath, my
hands clenched into tight fists on my lap, I finally make my decision.
__
True to his word, Wufei’s
still waiting outside for me, although he’s sitting on the hood of his car and
munching on something he must have ordered. He simply nods in greeting, and
tosses his unfinished food into a nearby garbage can, just as I settle into his
car.
“So?” He eyes me warily, as I
close my eyes and try to block out that rushing gale that’s still within my
head.
“Let’s just drive,” I
whisper.
“To where?” he asks with a
raised brow.
I open my eyes and sigh, turning
to stare out the window while groaning out the words. “Anywhere…anywhere but
here.”
~End Period Fifty-Three~