Falling Hard

Try-Outs

I groaned as Brandon got into his car. He started it and turned the AC on full blast. My whole body ached and my head was throbbing. I could feel my heartbeat behind my eyes. The first day of try-outs had gone exactly as I figured. I couldn't make a shot and Derek was clearly noticing. Everyone was. Even though I didn't want to play, it still hurt that I was the worst to try out.

"Why are you stressing? I thought you didn't want to make the team." Brandon said, his head rolled in my direction, resting on the head rest.

"You told me to do it because it would make Derek like me. I didn't even want to be on the team."

He sighed. "I'm sorry I talked you into it. But you have to admit you like him."

"He doesn't care about me at all. He only cares about making the team."

"Angelo-"

"It's true, B. He practiced with you and talked about the team and even got you to put in a good word for him. And you saw him out there. There's no way he won't make the team. But did he thank you or talk to us at all during the practice?"

Brandon stared forward out the window. The wheels were turning in his head. His jaw was clenching. "I guess not."

"I'm done throwing myself at someone who could barely even glance my way."

He nodded silently.

"Can you take me home now?"

Without saying another word, he put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot. He left the parking lot and pulled onto the main road.

- - -

"How'd it go?" Mom asked as I walked into the kitchen. She filled a glass with cold water then handed it to me. She must have known already, maybe just a hunch or something, based on the tone of her voice.

I sighed. "Not good. I'm definitely not making the team."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She smoothed the hair on my neck down, giving me her best 'I'm sorry you have to go through this but I know you don't really care' look. She never said anything to dad, always telling him to talk to me about it. She kept her thoughts on it to herself to which I was grateful. It was bad enough letting dad down. I didn't want mom to let dad down, too.

"It's humiliating."

"Your father is proud of you regardless. As am I."

"Thanks." I mumbled. I knew it was true and she'd never lie about it nor stop telling me that. It was just one of those things that I stopped believing the more she told me.

She kissed my forehead. "If he asks, don't tell him how it's going, okay? You can tell him on Friday."

"You don't think he knows I'm lying?"

"He's proud of you, honey. Just leave it at that, okay?"

I sighed. "Okay."

She kissed my forehead again. "Go on upstairs and get changed. You can help me finish dinner."