Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Well, that’s good then. I still have to work with my ex, so there’s that.”
“Ouch. That might be a tough one.”
“Eh. He’s probably over it.” She scooped a forkful and ate.
“Are you?”
Antonia nodded quickly. “Oddly, I’m not even bothered by it. It was probably for the best.”
It was definitely for the best for me.
The rest of the morning and into the afternoon, I sat in my office at school with my thoughts. One might think those thoughts would’ve been about the upcoming game, but they were all about Antonia. My mom had always said to believe in the signs. Was this a sign?
This one being that Antonia was single, and from my guess, she wasn’t heartbroken over it.
She wasn’t hard to read, but then again, she could be masking her emotions because of what she was going through with Miriam.
My fingers drummed on my blotter, the rolled edges catching my attention. I moved the scattered papers off the calendar and looked at the date, shocked to see it was exactly three years old. How come I’d never replaced it?
With more observation, I noticed the sentence I had written down: Start dating again.
I frowned, not remembering writing those words. The messy scrawl was definitely mine. The date itself didn’t mean anything to me, at least not something I could recall. The team would’ve been heading into playoffs, and my mind would’ve been on basketball and the upcoming baseball season.
Now my mind was on not only my responsibilities as a coach but my interest in Antonia.
I had to put her out of my mind, at least for right now. We had a game in a couple of hours, and I needed to plan. I brought my computer to life and pulled up game footage and notes Jerome had put together for me, taking my own notes as I watched.
After I finished, I wrote out my game plan: who would guard whom during our man-to-man, what plays we were going to run when they switched their defense. From the video, I was able to ascertain a pattern with their coach, which I could easily work to our advantage.
Voices began filtering in. The boys walked past my office, saying hi as they made their way to the locker room. Within minutes of their arrival, I heard the gym door open, and music began playing.
Jerome came in and dumped his bag on the couch. “Malik’s out there and is in a good mood.”
“That’s refreshing.” I leaned back in my chair and tapped my pen against my desk, once again noticing the blotter. I hadn’t bothered changing the page and didn’t think I would.
“I take it everything went okay with his dad?”
I nodded and gave him a half shrug. “Malik said they talked after I left.” I sat up and stood. “It’s not an ideal situation for anyone, that’s for sure. I just don’t want to see him throwing his life away.”
“Right.”
Jerome and I made our way out to the court, mostly to watch the boys shoot around. I’d always told them that anytime they wanted to use the gym, all they had to do was ask one of us, and we’d come open it for them. I’d rather spend my free time here with them. Anything to keep them out of trouble.
“Coach, wanna shoot?” Malik asked.
“No, thanks. Coach Levy does, though.” I gave Jerome a little shove onto the court. Secretly, he loved playing with the kids but was always afraid to show them up. He’d played in college but had never given a professional career a thought.
Game day staff started to arrive. The smell of popcorn and hot dogs wafted through the corridor and into the gym each time the doors opened. Fans began filling the stands, and the school-appropriate music played to entertain the spectators. In the corner, the cheerleaders practiced their routine, and Gordon took it upon himself to sweep the court.
While the boys went to change, I sat on the bench with Jerome and watched the other team filter in. Our athletic director showed them where to go, even though their coach had been here more than a dozen times.
“Who’s the tall kid?” I asked Jerome. The boy had to be at least six five.
“Not sure. I’ve never seen him before.”
“Shit,” I muttered as I walked toward the admissions table to grab a roster. Sure enough, it listed a new kid. “How’d we miss this?”
Jerome took the flyer from my hand and shook his head. “I watched them on Monday. He wasn’t on the roster or the bench.”
The state had a rule where players had to have completed ten practices before they could play. Being that Jerome was there at the beginning of the week to scout, and the player wasn’t on the bench, one could assume he didn’t have his ten practices in. There was no way to tell or even know.