A Game Worth Watching (26 page)

She
watched him go, the feel of his kiss still on her forehead. This whole kissing
thing was getting way out of control. What happened to the days when they would
say goodbye with playful punches and shoves?

She
sighed and entered her classroom. Most people would be thrilled to see
themselves featured in a newspaper article, but Emma couldn’t muster anything
more than irritation. Why? Because the definition of something good was all a
matter of opinion. If it was like Riley said, and the article was something
good happening to her, she knew it wouldn’t last long. She knew it would only
be a matter of time before the world crashed down on her…again.

One
week later, Riley trailed behind Emma as she led the way through her house to
the kitchen, seeking water. Lots and lots of water. Sometimes Saturday
basketball games required more than one water bottle. Logan, sitting on the
couch reading yet another book, barely glanced up as they passed.

“Wouldn’t
it be awesome if you guys made it to the playoffs?” Riley leaned against the
counter and watched her retrieve two glasses from the cupboard. Since the
girls’ team had jumped on a winning streak, putting them in the top half of the
league with only four losses, Riley was on a kick for them to go all the way.

She
held up her hands, a glass grasped in each. “Whoa. Let’s just focus on the rest
of the season, shall we?” It was premature to get excited about the possibility
of what might happen when they still had a handful of games left, including
another face-off with Evergreen High School. Even though Bradshaw had beat some
of the other tough teams in the league, she knew their second game against
Evergreen wouldn’t be like the first.

“Without
you, none of this would be possible, you know.” He crossed his arms and smirked
at her, like he expected a thank you for forcing her on the team in the first
place.

“That
is not true.” She turned on the faucet and filled a glass with water. He may
want a thank you, but he would never get one.

“It
is true,” he said. “How else would you explain how the girls’ basketball team
went from ten years of losing to one year of winning with the only major change
being you? You play ninety-five percent of every game with an average of
twenty-five points. Players don’t get any better than you.”

She
set the glasses on the counter and opened her mouth to respond, to tell him she
was only a piece of the whole, but someone else spoke first.

“And
what are you, Emma’s private cheerleader?” Lance said as he entered the
kitchen, heading straight for the refrigerator. “Where are your skirt and
pom-poms?”

It
wasn’t so much what her brother said, but the way he said it. The way his eyes
narrowed, the way his tone dripped with loathing, the way his lip curled into a
sneer as he spoke to Riley. Riley didn’t deserve that.

Emma’s
cheeks burned, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She knew she
shouldn’t react to Lance’s arrogance, but she’d had enough. “What is your
problem?”

Riley
pushed away from the counter and grabbed her arm to hold her back, but she
twisted free and stepped toward Lance.

“Nothing.”
Lance scanned the shelves for food. “I just think it’s funny how everyone
thinks you’re God’s gift to the world when you’re nothing but a loser. You’re
wasting your time playing that stupid game.”

Maybe
he was right, maybe she was wasting her time with basketball and nothing would
come out of it, but who was he to make such a statement? “And how would you know?
You’ve never even seen me play.”

“I
don’t need to see you play,” he tossed over his shoulder. “I’ve been there,
remember?”

Yes,
she did remember. She remembered him being the one with his face plastered all
over the paper with headlines shouting about how great he was and how far he
would go in basketball. He’d jeopardized it all when he let his grades slip and
stopped showing up for practice. “Yeah,” she said, “I remember. I remember how
you could have been great, but you chose to pursue the big dumb jock route
instead.”

Lance
slammed the cupboard door and spun around to face her. “You don’t get it, do
you?” he roared. “No matter what you tell yourself, you’re no better than I am.
You’re on a long road to nowhere.”

Riley
stepped closer to her, but remained quiet. He knew not to interfere, but he
wasn’t stupid. If Lance got mad enough to hit her, Riley wouldn’t stay on the
sidelines to watch.

Emma
looked at her brother, saw the depth of his hatred for her and the world in his
eyes. She didn’t want to believe the only road unfolding before her led to the
same place Lance stood. Maybe she was a loser and maybe basketball wouldn’t
take her to college, but maybe Riley was right. Maybe there was something more
in store for her than living in the garage and being consumed by years of
regret and anger like the rest of her family. “Just because that’s your story
doesn’t mean it has to be mine.”

Lance
laughed a malicious laugh. “Don’t tell me you’ve been listening to your rich
boyfriend.” He pointed at Riley. “The only reason he’s your friend is because
he feels sorry for you. Why else would a guy like him waste time on a loser
like you? Do you think you’ll go to college, get some high-paying job, and live
happily ever after?” Lance shook his head. “You’re pitiful with all your hopes
and dreams. Riley may not admit it, but he knows it just as well as I do.”

She’d
heard Lauren say similar things, but it was different coming from her own
brother. Different because it felt more real—more true. As much as she
wanted to look at Riley to see if Lance’s accusations held any truth, she
couldn’t. She would die if she saw guilt in his eyes.

“You’re
just like her,” Lance spit out.

“Just
like who?” The question was out of her mouth before she could decide whether or
not she wanted to ask it.

“Who
do you think?” Lance yelled. “You’re just like her. You’re just like Mom. She
was always talking about how much more to life there was, and how she had all
these dreams of going to college and getting some fancy job. She left because she
wanted something more, something better. Better than Dad, better than us.”

His
words hung in the air like fog that numbed the senses and disoriented thought.
In the last five years, their mom had never been the topic of family
conversation. They didn’t rehash old memories of her or voice inquiries into
what she was doing now. She was a phantom. Yet Lance shouted her back into
existence in a way that clawed at Emma’s insides.

“That’s
not true,” she said quietly, her words barely breaking through the fog. She
didn’t know why she felt obligated to defend the woman who’d walked out on
them, but she refused to believe her mom would abandon her family to pursue a
better life without them.

“It
is true,” Lance shouted at her. “Haven’t you ever wondered why Dad can hardly
stand to look at you or why you sleep in the stinking garage?”

Yes,
she’d wondered, but she’d always figured it was because, as the only girl, her
dad wanted her to have the privacy she needed. But, as she listened to her brother,
everything clicked into place.

“It’s
because you remind Dad too much of Mom, and he knows you’re going to crush him
like Mom did with all of your childish dreams and hopes for a better life!”
Lance’s face grew red as he yelled, but with every stinging truth he flung at
her, she sensed his satisfaction. Like he’d been waiting for years to break
her. “Dad hates you. He hates having you around as a constant reminder of her.
Just because you can dribble a stupid ball and make a few shots, doesn’t make
you special.”

Emma
didn’t want to hear more. She didn’t want to look into Lance’s eyes and know
how much he meant the words he spoke, but her feet and eyes remained transfixed
as they were. It was like reliving a nightmare. Her mom’s abandonment. Her dad’s
indifference. Her brothers’ resentment.

Lance
leaned in, his eyes narrowing. The next words out of his mouth, said just above
a whisper, hit her the hardest because of the sincerity and loathing behind
them. “You’re worthless.”

A
hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her backward, and then Riley stepped
in front of her, shielding her from her brother. “That’s enough,” Riley said
threateningly, matching Lance’s tone and sneer. They stood inches apart,
neither one backing down. Emma knew she should separate them and drag Riley out
of her brother’s firing zone, but she couldn’t move. Riley’s eyes remained
locked on Lance’s for what seemed like an eternity before he slid his fingers
down Emma’s wrist and grabbed her hand.

“Let’s
go,” he said.

She
didn’t have strength for anything except to let Riley guide her out of the
kitchen, away from Lance, but her feet stopped when they entered the living
room. Logan still sat on the couch, his book cast aside, evidently listening to
her fight with Lance. He’d heard, but he’d done nothing to come to her defense
or shut Lance up before he’d said too much. But it wasn’t Logan meeting her
gaze that made her stop.

It
was her dad.

He
stood ten feet away from her, leaning against the wall with his head bowed. How
long had he been there? What all had he heard?

Without
raising his head, her dad glanced up and met her eyes for the first time in
years. It was then she knew he’d heard it all. She stood there, needing him to
provide her with answers, to debunk Lance’s accusations and tell her not to
overreact, to tell her he loved her like a father was supposed to.

She
waited.

Waited
for something more than guilt to be reflected in the way he looked at her.
Waited for him to close the distance between them and be the dad she needed him
to be. Just when she didn’t think she could stand it any longer, her dad
diverted his gaze from her to the floor. Maybe he needed a minute to collect
his thoughts, to transfer the truth into words and tell her this was all just a
big misunderstanding. Emma waited with a scrap of hope, but she felt Riley’s
hand tense in hers. Her dad’s silence held a different meaning for him. As much
as she wanted to deny it, she knew Riley’s assessment was right. Her heart
split, and she held back a sob as she felt the weight of Lance’s words crash
down on her, knowing they were true by the way her dad remained silent.

Her
dad hated her.

She
didn’t resist as Riley pulled her through the front door, away from her
so-called family. Her eyes stared unseeing at the ground as Lance’s words and
her dad’s face burned in her memory. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

“Em?”
Riley glanced her way as their feet hit the sidewalk. “You okay?” His voice was
tense, controlled, like he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I’m
fine,” she said automatically, not able to tear her eyes away from the ground.
She felt numb. Broken. Empty.

Nothing
felt right. Not even Riley’s hand in hers as he led her down the street to his
house. His grip was too tight, his arm too stiff. She didn’t know whether to be
comforted or afraid by Riley’s loyalty to her. What if Lance’s accusations
about him were true? What if the last eight years of friendship boiled down to
eight years of pity? Emma knew their friendship didn’t make any sense—that
a boy like him shouldn’t care about a girl like her—but did that mean it
was all a lie?

She
felt Riley continuously look her way as they walked to his house, as if trying
to sense how close she was from breaking, but she kept her eyes fixated on the
street, hearing her brother’s words repeat over and over in her head.

Dad hates
you…You’ll never amount to anything…You’re worthless.

The
safety of the Ledgers’ driveway caused Riley to stop and face her. He didn’t
look into her eyes, and it took Emma a second to realize it was because he
couldn’t. The muscle in his jaw twitched, his nostrils flared. He looked like
he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. It didn’t matter. She
knew there was nothing left to say. Her brother had said it all.

She
felt sorry for Riley. Over the years, he had witnessed a few selective
instances when she’d caught one of her brothers’ fists, and in one instance her
dad’s backhand, but he’d only seen the bruises, never the actual fight. He’d
only heard her edited version of the truth, never listened to the live
commentary.

Riley
placed his hands on the sides of her face and finally raised his eyes to meet
hers. She didn’t know what he saw when he looked at her. Maybe shock over what
had happened or grief over what it meant. Or maybe he saw the emptiness left
over after all hope of gaining her dad’s love vanished. Whatever he saw made
his scowl give way to pain and his shoulders slump forward in defeat. He rested
his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m
so sorry.”

She
didn’t know if he was apologizing for her brother, her dad, or for himself, but
the pain in his words made her eyes blur with tears she desperately tried to
smother. Her eyelids slid closed, and she tried to regain her composure so
Riley didn’t see her weakness. When he pulled away a moment later, he smoothed
hair away from her face, kissed her forehead, and reclaimed her hand to lead
her inside the house.

Both
of his parents were in the living room, and they looked up when Emma and Riley
entered. They rose from the couch when they saw Riley and Emma’s faces.

“Can
Emma sleep here tonight?” Riley asked before they could bombard him with
questions.

Emma
was aware of how his voice was distant, cold. She glanced at Riley’s profile and
saw his tense jaw, his rigid stance.

He
exchanged a look with his dad before Mr. Ledger nodded. “Of course.”

“Maybe
for a few days?” Riley asked looking at Emma.