A Game Worth Watching Read online

  A Game Worth Watching

  By Samantha Gudger

  Dedication

  For my husband Ian.

  And for anyone who’s ever been told they are not good enough, strong enough, or smart enough. Because you are.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  If looks could kill, the new guy would be dead already. Emma took a step towards him, her glare firmly in place.

  “Excuse me?”

  Mike—the new guy, the arrogant guy, the guy who needed to learn that Saturday morning basketball games at the park didn’t start with him circling Emma like he was the wolf and she was the prey.

  “I said you don’t look like much.”

  The disgust in his eyes was enough for Emma to know he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t share a court with girls, much less play basketball with them. His arrogant smirk didn’t help.

  “Why don’t you let us guys play basketball and you can cheer for us from the sidelines?”

  Tom closed his eyes and shook his head. Jerry winced, and the rest of the guys suppressed their laughter as Riley grabbed the back of her sweatshirt and pulled her away from Mike. Emma’s face burned with anger, her hands balled into fists, and her mouth clamped shut to prevent a stream of vicious words from spilling out.

  “Em,” Riley said, unable to hide his smile, “take it easy.”

  “Take it easy?” she growled. “First he says I don’t look like much and then he says I should be a cheerleader. Who does he think he is?” Emma took a step in Mike’s direction with the intent of having her fist speak on her behalf, but Riley yanked her back to his side.

  Why were the new guys always so against playing basketball with a girl? One thing she knew for sure was that she did belong on a basketball court full of guys. If Mike wanted a cheerleader, he could put on the skimpy skirt and pom poms and cheer for himself.

  Jerry cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve all met, how about we play?” He tossed the basketball to Emma and turned to Mike. “And just for fun, you can guard Emma,” he said, unable to hide the grin on his face.

  Her mouth twisted into a smile. Payback. Nice. She would love nothing more than to prove to Mike that not all girls were cheerleaders, and boys weren’t the only ones who ruled the basketball court. She pulled free from Riley’s grip to meet her victim at half court. Riley followed.

  “Em.” The warning in his voice tried to pull her back.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said, waving him away, “behave.”

  He stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at him. “Actually, I was going to say be careful. This guy looks like he could crush you with his bare hands.”

  Emma glanced at Mike. Sure, he was the size of a lumberjack with hands as big as her head and muscles the size of her entire body, but she didn’t care. He deserved to be taught a little humility. “You know what they say,” she said, squeezing the basketball in anticipation of the challenge, “the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

  Riley shook his head and joined the rest of the guys as they cleared the court. The guys included Riley, Tom, Jerry, Ben, Alex, Cy, Carson, and Emma. Yep, she was one of them. This fact had less to do with her being a girl and more to do with her skills on the basketball court and how hard she punched. If Mike knew that, she wouldn’t be facing off with him to prove she was a basketball player, not a cheerleader.

  Mike noticed the guys lining up along the sideline instead of matching up on the court. “Hey, what are you guys doing? I thought we were going to play.”

  “The first one’s all you.” Tom waved him toward Emma. “Consider it your initiation.”

  Holding the ball in triple-threat position, Emma stared into the eyes of her defender. Poverty child. Loser. Poor girl. Tomboy. She was well aware of the labels people placed on her. She saw their looks as she weaved through the halls at Bradshaw High School; she heard their whispered insults, felt their judgments. In a school where ninety percent of the students came from families with money—lots of money—Emma stood out like a porcupine among swans, and not in a good way.

  Emma knew she wasn’t much to look at. Boys basketball shorts hung on her hips, her faded sweatshirt was a size too small, and her blonde hair was secured in a wad behind her head, the ends poking out in random directions. Yes, her family was poor. Yes, she wore her brothers’ hand-me-downs. Yes, most of the kids at school hated her for reasons she didn’t understand. Emma didn’t care. She could play basketball—that’s all that mattered to her.

  She glanced at Riley. He stood on the sidelines, arms crossed and eyes glued on her in case things got rough and he needed to intervene. It had only happened once or twice—the new guy charging her with the intent to cause bodily harm because he couldn’t take losing to a girl. Thank goodness she had Riley.

  “We playing or what?” Mike asked.

  “Absolutely.” She spun the ball in her hands, waiting for Mike to step up and play defense, but he kept his distance. Mike’s stupidity was Emma’s opportunity. From behind the three-point line, she shot the ball, her smirk in place as the ball dropped through the net.

  “Lucky shot,” Mike muttered before Tom yelled from the sideline, “Watch the long shot. She’ll sink it every time.”

  The rest of the guys laughed, knowing only too well the truth to Tom’s statement. She’d scored way too many three-pointers during their games to let them forget it.

  Mike scowled at her, snatched the ball from the ground, and set up for his turn on offense. Revenge was written across his face. She smiled inwardly. Bring it on.

  He jabbed left before dribbling right. Emma shuffled her feet, staying with him. Mike attempted a crossover to change direction, a slow crossover. Not between the legs or behind the back or anything more sophisticated than Basketball 101, but a crossover right in front of her. He had a lot to learn. Her hand struck out like a viper, flipping the ball away from him and into her possession. This time, when she set up at the three-point line to drive right, Mike didn’t give her the extra step. He forced her left instead. Not a bad plan, but Emma didn’t have a weak side, so if he wanted her to go left, she’d go left.

  One dribble, two dribbles, between the legs to the right, spin move to the left, all executed to perfection in under two seconds. She faked the shot. Mike flew through the air trying to block the ball, but she stepped around him for the easy lay-in.

  The guys clapped. Mike growled. Emma grinned. It was the second basket of many. Mike and Emma battled one-on-one for the next ten minutes. Mike desperate to beat the girl; the girl determined to prove, beyond a doubt, that she was a basketball player, not a cheerleader. Considering she outscored the guy five to one, Emma figured she’d gotten her point across, especially when Mike slammed the ball on the ground and turned to the guys.

  “Okay,” he growled. “I get it. The chick can play.”

  “That’s my girl,” Riley said with a smile, joining Emma on the court to give her a high-five. The rest of the guys averted their eyes from Mike
, trying not to laugh, and started picking teams.

  If she hadn’t been so caught up in her victory and entertained by Mike fuming over his loss, Emma probably would’ve seen the woman slip through the fence behind them and step onto the court. She would have sensed how her life was one moment away from changing. Again.

  Chapter 2

  “Excuse me.”

  The voice was not one of their own, and Emma and the guys turned to look at the woman who’d inched her way onto their court.

  Eight guys and one girl stared at the woman, but the intruder only had eyes for Emma. Emma took a step back. With her black running suit, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her perky smile, the woman didn’t look like a police officer or a social worker, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t one. Growing up in a single-parent family with four brothers, Emma had seen her fair share of authority figures and knew enough not to trust anyone. Except Riley.

  The woman took a step forward. “Are you Emma Wrangton?”

  Emma tensed. She had never met this woman in her life, so why had she thrown Emma’s name out there like she already knew the answer? The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Emma shivered.

  Riley grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her behind him, blocking her from the woman’s stare. “Depends on who’s askin’,” he said, his voice hard and filled with caution.

  The woman stepped closer. “I’m Jen Knowles. I’m the new girls’ varsity basketball coach at Bradshaw High School.” She answered Riley’s question, but stepped to the side and craned her neck to reconnect her eyes with Emma’s.

  Riley glanced over his shoulder at Emma. She could only imagine what he was thinking. Girls’ basketball coach looking for you? That’s a first. The curiosity in his eyes didn’t match the fear in hers. He stepped aside, but remained close.

  “Word has it you’re the best female basketball player in town,” Jen said.

  A few of the guys whistled and hollered their approval, but Emma remained skeptical of the woman’s motives and stayed on guard. Call it intuition, paranoia, or complete distrust of the female population, but something in the woman’s voice didn’t sound quite right.

  Jen nodded toward the basket. “From what I’ve seen, I’d say the rumors about you are true.”

  Poverty child. Loser. Poor girl. Tomboy. Not exactly the kind of rumors a real coach acted on to go in search of some girl. If there were rumors circulating about her basketball abilities, Emma hadn’t heard them and didn’t know who would have started them. Aside from Riley’s parents and the guys, no one knew she even played. Even if this woman was different, Emma recognized the look on her face. The plastered on smile and hopeful eyes couldn’t hide Jen Knowles’ caution over Emma’s appearance. Add Emma’s lack of eye appeal to the fact she’d never played on a real team, and people automatically assumed she was plagued by bad habits and wasn’t worth their time.

  Until now.

  “I want you on my roster.” Jen’s comment left no room for misinterpretation.

  “I don’t play organized sports,” Emma shot back. No room for misinterpretation there either.

  “Why is that?”

  Emma shrugged. She wasn’t about to explain herself to anyone, least of all to a stranger whose presence delayed a much anticipated basketball game.

  “The team could use you.” Jen kept her eyes fixated on Emma, waiting for her to respond, but Emma remained silent. No way would she ever consider playing for the girls’ team. Not even if someone paid her. Her one goal in life was to graduate high school with her sanity intact, not sacrifice herself to be at the mercy of cruel and heartless girls. Besides, the girls at school had proven a long time ago that Emma didn’t belong in their cliques. Between the glares, accusations, and rumors they had spread to embarrass her, Emma stayed as far away from them as possible.

  “No offense,” Emma said, regaining her confidence, “but the girls’ team is a joke.”

  “Emma!” Riley snapped.

  “What?” She shrugged. It wasn’t a secret. “They haven’t won more than two games a season in over a decade.”

  “Maybe this year will be different,” Jen Knowles challenged.

  Emma almost laughed, but she knew Riley would smack her if she did. “Maybe it won’t.”

  Jen pressed her lips together and nodded once, as if sensing the more she tried to persuade Emma to join the team, the more Emma would resist. “I’d appreciate it if you would at least consider coming out for the team. The first practice is a week from Monday.”

  Tom grasped Emma’s shoulders from behind. “If Emma tries out for any team, it will be the boys’ basketball team.”

  Jen’s shoulders slumped, as if all of her dreams for the season had vanished, but Emma was with Tom. The guys’ team sounded a lot more appealing than the girls’ team. At least the guys won a game once in a while.

  Jen Knowles continued to stare at Emma, probably hoping to infuse her with enough school spirit to propel her to join the girls’ team.

  Emma crossed her arms and stared back. Not happening.

  “Please,” Jen said. “Just think about it.” She finally turned to leave.

  The guys retreated to the basket to shoot, while Emma watched the woman retreat across the court and disappear into her car. What right did she have to intrude on their court and beg for Emma to join the girls’ basketball team? Their reputation alone was enough to deter Emma from ever stepping foot on the court, and the team consisted of—gulp—girls. The mere thought made her want to gag.

  “Are you going to do it?” Riley asked.

  Emma laughed. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because only losers play for the school team.”

  “Hey.” Riley pointed to his chest with both hands. “I play for the school team.”

  Emma patted his chest. “Exactly my point.”

  ***

  One by one, the guys drifted off the court to go home or to work or wherever else they went on Saturdays. Four hours of basketball was enough for any of them, but Emma sometimes wished the hours would stretch a little longer to reduce the amount of time she had to spend at home.

  “You want to stay and shoot around?” she asked Riley before he could follow the others and abandon her too.

  “Can’t.” He put up one last shot before snatching his water bottle from the bleachers and taking a swig. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth to catch drops of water dripping from his chin and snapped the lid of his bottle closed. “My mom told me if I wasn’t home in time for dinner, she’d skin me alive.”

  “Ah, the old parental threat. You better get going then.” Emma bowed her head, trying to hide her disappointment. Time always seemed to steal so much of the day. She thought for sure Riley would stay longer, but Mrs. Ledger’s threats were not to be taken lightly. Sometimes Emma wished her dad would use a parental threat, if for no other reason than to show he cared.

  “Well, come on,” Riley said impatiently from the sideline. “You’re invited too.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. My mom’s making your favorite.”

  “Homemade macaroni and cheese?”

  “Yep.”

  “With little broccoli pieces and chicken?”

  “Yep and yep.”

  Her mouth started to water. She hadn’t had Mrs. Ledger’s macaroni and cheese in months. She retrieved the basketball and fell into step beside Riley.

  Darkness came early in November, and with no sun to indicate the transition from day to night, the park faded from gray to black as Emma and Riley stepped into the street and headed toward home. She couldn’t prevent the bounce in her step or the smile on her face. Dinner at the Ledgers’. There was no better end to her day.

  He shook his head at her excitement and settled his arm around her shoulders. “My mom loves you more than me, and I’m her only child.”

  “And my dad loves you more than me, and I’m his only daughter, so we’re even,
” she said, determined not to let him make her feel guilty.

  “He does not.”

  “Oh, please. My dad would kill for another boy in the family rather than be stuck with me.” As if four sons weren’t enough already.

  Riley stopped walking, and his voice turned serious. “Em, that’s not true.”

  “It is true, and you know it.” She poked him in the chest. No matter how wrong it seemed or how much they wanted to deny it, they both knew her dad preferred Riley to her.

  Riley studied her, trying to decide if he wanted to fight it out or let her comment slide. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. “Whether it’s true or not, I’ll never be able to understand why he’d want to get rid of you when you have the most squeezable cheeks.” He grabbed her cheeks with both hands and pinched them like his grandma used to do when Emma was little, except with more pinch.

  She swatted his hands away, and he took off running. She heard his laughter echo down the street as she chased him the last two blocks to his house. They burst into the house just as Mrs. Ledger set the pan of steaming macaroni and cheese on the dinner table. The smell of cheesy goodness was enough to fill Emma’s stomach for a week.

  Mrs. Ledger took one look at them, set her hands on her hips, and started barking out orders. “Shoes off. Wash up. Don’t even think about starting a water fight.”

  Riley and Emma exchanged a look, forcing back laughter, before doing as they were told. After eight years of friendship, Riley’s mom knew what kinds of disasters to plan for before they even happened. It wasn’t fair, but tonight it didn’t matter because it was mac and cheese night.

  The love of macaroni and cheese. How to explain it? It wasn’t the boxed kind with the powdered cheese or the creamy sauce that left a layer of residue on the top of your mouth and on your teeth or anything. This stuff was the real deal. Freshly grated cheese sprinkled over noodles and vegetables and chicken, baked to perfection, and delivered to the table in one delicious cheesy-melted meal.

  Unlike Emma’s family, the Ledgers ate meals together at the table with napkins and matching dishes. At the Wrangtons’, dinner was rarely anything beyond frozen pizza or TV dinners. Dinner with the Ledgers not only consisted of food—really good homemade food—but civilized conversation too.