Playing the Court (Lauren/You/Camila)

Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s pov

When I walked inside, I took out Lauren's sketch book, and sat down at the kitchen table.  I opened it, and looked at the first sketch.  The first paper looked like a comic strip.  It was based off high school cheerleaders and each of the four boxes had a stereotype in it.  I skipped to the next one, which said 'They Are Not You'.  It had copious amounts of businessmen and businesswomen filling up the page, but toward the bottom of the paper, a person wearing an orange shirt stood out.  When I focused on the orange shirt person, I noticed the face was blank.  I studied the picture, but was taken out of my thoughts by my mom walking into the room.

"Hey..." she said as I looked up at her. "I took the night off. I thought I'd take in a basketball game." I sighed deeply before answering.

"Sorry, mom."

"No, (Y/n). I'm sorry. You've always loved the game, even in the junior leagues." She laughed. "I remember when they issued you your first jersey, and I couldn't get you out of it. You wore that thing for weeks."  I smiled at the memory.

"And then you decided to quit playing. Do you remember why?" My smile dropped, and I took in a deep breath. "(Y/n)?"

"I didn't want to see his face."

"Dan."

"I didn't want to be like him." I said as my voice wavered.  My eyes were filling with tears, but I wouldn't let them fall. "I was afraid that I'd become him if I played." I paused for a second, and shook my head.

"In the gym... I felt like he had a piece of me. I never felt like that on the playground."

"Well, I say he has taken enough from us. I took the night off to watch my daughter play again... the way she used to when she loved the game more than anything." She said as she set some laundry down on a chair, and began to walk out.

"Mom?" I called out to stop her before she walked out the room. "Thank you." I said when she looked at me.

"It's hard to fight the things we are afriad of. Sometimes we just need a little help." She smiled before walking out the room.  I looked back down at Lauren's sketch that I still held in my hands.  They are not you.  I jumped up from my chair and ran out the house with the sketch book in hand.  I ran down the streets until I reached the local magazine building, and saw the owner locking up.

"Hey! Hold up!" I yelled as I crossed the street.  He turned to look at me as I stopped in front of him.

"Hey, would you take a look at these?"  I asked as I held out the sketch book. "You won't be disappointed." I said as he took them.

"Sure, okay." He replied and I ran off down the street.

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Demi's pov

I grabbed my bag, and was ready to leave when my dad stopped me.

"It's time to focus now, Demi. Put everything out of your mind that bothers you. I don't want you thinking about Smith, or your -" his voice slowly faded from mind as I ignored him. He said put annoying things out of my head.  I grabbed a water bottle, and just nodded to pretend I was listening, when I actually didn't hear a single word after that.  I grabbed my bag, and walked out the house.

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(Y/n)'s pov

I walked into the school gym and passed up the cheerleaders who were strecthing and getting ready.  I saw Lauren and her friend, Camila, talking about the game tonight with Dinah and Normani.  I walked into the hallway that led to the locker room, but stopped when I heard a voice.

"Uh, kid." I turned around to see Dan, and I took out my headphones.  We looked at each other before he stepped closer, and took the bag of his shoulders.  He held it out to me.

"Give this to my daughter, would you?" I stared at him, and grabbed the bag as he walked away.

"Don't let him take it." I heard and looked to see Zendaya leaning against the wall as she pointed in Dan's direction. "Your talent... It's all yours." She said and toom the bag from me and patted my shoulder, walking into the locker room.  I followed behind her and went to my locker.  I grabbed my uniform out of my bag and went to get dressed.

Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark,...

I looked at the back of my jersey before putting it on.  I examined the number and the last name.  'Lovato' sewn on in black with an outlining of white behind it.

In the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all.

I moved my hands across the last name, across the velcro holding it to the jersey.

Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved...but never been able to reach.  The world you desire can be won.  It exists.  It is real. 

"Don't choke." Demi told me as we walked out, and onto the court.

"Hey!" I yelled to Lauren over the loud cheering.

It is possible.

"Your art matters. It's what got me here." I told her as she smiled at me, and I walked to the group huddle.

"Suns on three. 1...2...3...Suns!" They yelled. 

"You're gonna be okay." Coach Smith told me once the team dispersed from the huddle, and onto the court and bench. 

"Yeah. I am." I said.  Coach moved out the way, and Dan sat, staring at me.  We kept eye contact before I shook my head at him and walked onto the court.  I gave him full view of the back of my jersey.  The name completely gone.  Just a black piece of velcro left, the last name laying on the floor of the locker room.  I didn't once look back to see his face.  I didn't want to see his face.

It is yours.