13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"What am I doing, Sav? I must be insane."

Savannah comes up beside me and meets my gaze in the locker room mirror. "You're doing exactly what you set out to do. You're doing something brave, and you're standing up for a cause that you believe in." She gives me a side hug. "I'm more proud of you than I can say."

"Thanks." My voice echoes across the otherwise-empty locker room.

Savannah gives me another encouraging smile, and then I nervously start tying my shoes while my eyes drift around the room. This fancy facility is clearly intended for elite athletes—and I suddenly feel extremely pathetic in my simple green tank top, black shorts, black socks, and off-brand shoes.

I put a hand on my churning abdomen. "Is it a violation of the rules if I puke during the competition?"

"I'm not sure." Savannah chuckles and gets to work fixing my hair into a ponytail, since my hands are shaking too badly for me to do it myself.

"Are there . . . a lot of people out there?" I dare to ask.

"Yep. Even more than were at the men's scrimmage," Savannah replies with calm matter-of-factness. "I—"

The sound of the locker room door being opened causes both Savannah and me to turn around. Felicity strolls in, appearing confident and adorable in her warm-up outfit.

"Hi, Danielle." Felicity shows a cute smile. "Are you ready for today?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." I manage to smile in return. "What about you?"

I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth. I just asked a starting forward on the women's basketball team if she's ready for a game of HORSE. Of course she's ready. She could do this with her eyes closed.

"Yes, I think I'm quite ready." Felicity puts her expensive athletic bag in a locker. Her eyes scan my non-glamorous outfit. "I'll see you out there."

Felicity leaves, and I drop onto a bench with a moan.

"Am I seriously about to compete against her?"

"You seriously are." Savannah reaches into my cheap bag and hands me my dented water bottle. "And you can do it."

I attempt to drink, but I'm quivering so much that most of the water drips down my chin and onto my tank top, leaving a huge water mark. Fabulous.

"We'll consider that adequate hydration for now." Savannah smiles again and returns the water bottle to my bag. "So whenever you say the word, I'll walk you out there."

I stand up on my wobbly legs. This is lunacy. I'm not a college athlete. I'm going to destroy my chance of getting into med school. I'm about to humiliate myself in front of countless people.

Yet I want to do this. I need to do this. For Joel. For those kids. For myself.

I swallow hard and give Savannah a nod. "I'm ready."

Savannah carries my bag as we leave the locker room. We head down a wide, long, tunnel-like corridor, which is painted in the school colors and adorned with pictures of prior years' sports teams. As we approach the far end of the corridor, which opens up directly at court level, the sounds of loud music and cheering crowds start filling my ears. When we reach the end of the corridor, I stumble to a stop. I tried countless times to envision what this moment might be like, but nothing could have prepared me for this. Nothing.

The whole world is here.

The arena is packed. Spotlights are swishing around the stands. The music is booming. Cheerleaders are performing. Legions of media personnel are lining up under the hoops. Seth and a gal from the women's team are standing at center court, dressed in their respective teams' warm-up outfits, and beside them are carts filled with women's and men's basketballs. To my right, over at the scorer's table, there's a guy wearing a black-and-white-striped referee shirt, and next to him is the same announcer who covered the men's scrimmage. Seated beside the announcer is Angela Cox herself, and she's again accompanied by her entourage from University Hospital.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to faint.

"Danielle."

I hear Joel's voice above the ruckus, and I sense myself grow more calm. Looking over my shoulder, I see him coming from the men's locker room. Though he's the undeniable star of the show, he's dressed simply in a plain t-shirt and black shorts. His affect is cool and composed, yet there's a focused gleam in his gaze. When he reaches Savannah and me, he smiles at us and remarks:

"Fancy meeting you both here."

"Hey, Joel." Savannah laughs before glancing back out at the court. "Well, I suppose I should clear out." She hands me my bag. "I'll be in the front row with our families and friends. We'll be cheering louder than anyone." She gives me another hug. "You've got this, Dan."

She lets me go, gives Joel a thumbs-up, and darts out of the corridor. Once Joel and I are alone, he faces me. His expression is now difficult to interpret.

"How are you doing?" he inquires.

I exhale slowly. "Panicking beyond belief but still standing, so I'll take it as a win."

"Just being here is a win." Joel brushes my hand with his. "Look at all the attention that has been brought to the issue of the pediatric play area. This is all because of you."

"It's not all because of me. We did this together."

Joel tips his head toward the court. "Then how about we go show everyone what we're made of?"

My fear ratchets up another notch . . . yet my determination does, too.

"Let's do it," I tell him.

We step forward into the blindingly bright lights, and the fans go wild. The cheerleaders begin waving their pom-poms in our direction. The media personnel point their cameras at us. The spotlights start dancing around where we're standing. I gawk at the scene, still trying to convince myself that this isn't a crazy dream. I'm really standing on this court, and I'm really about to compete.

I'm jarred back to awareness when, through the fray, I notice Kaden and Felicity. They're watching Joel and me from the opposite end of the court. Kaden's eyes are narrowed. Felicity has one hand propped on her hip, and she's smiling at Joel as though there's absolutely nothing else going on.

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman to the fundraiser!" the announcer says into his microphone. "Players, you have ten minutes to warm up!"

More seismic applause rumbles through the arena. I swear I'm no longer breathing as Joel and I head for the chairs that are along the near sideline. We set down our bags and then walk to the hoop on our side of the court. The gal from the women's team, whose jacket reveals that her name is Madison, brings two ball carts over to us. While the music thumps in my ears, Joel and I start taking warm-up shots with Madison athletically retrieving the rebounds.

My first shots are astoundingly bad. I'm drowning in the chaos, the awareness of Kaden and Felicity on the other side of the court, the cameras, Angela's chilling stares, and the sheer number of people who fill this arena. Slowly, though, I'm able to focus a tiny bit better. Though I still look terribly inexperienced compared to the others, at least some of my shots are going in.

"Hey, you're good at this." Madison grabs another rebound and passes the ball to me. "It's too bad we already had walk-on tryouts for the women's team, otherwise I would encourage you come out."

"I appreciate that, but I think one day under the spotlights will be plenty for me." I laugh nervously before I take another shot. It spins around the rim and falls out.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer's voice fills the air again. "It's time for the competition to begin!"My body lurches. It's time? Already?

Madison escorts Joel and me to the center circle, and Seth leads Felicity and Kaden to meet us. Kaden winks at me before spearing Joel with another fierce glare. Felicity simply resumes batting her eyelashes at Joel like she doesn't have a care in the world.

"Here are the rules!" the announcer goes on. "One player on the starting team will shoot from anywhere between the half-court line and the baseline. If that player misses, he or she gets a letter, and the next player will choose a new shot. However, if the first player scores the basket, the other players must take the same shot. Anyone who misses will be assigned a letter, and the following player will then choose a new shot."

A sudden burst of light from up above causes me to look toward the ceiling. The planetary-sized scoreboard has illuminated. Our names are listed in the left column of a grid, and next to our names are five empty slots for the letters of HORSE to be added. My stomach clenches. My name. On the scoreboard. With three intercollegiate athletes. It's unreal.

"If there's one player left from each team," the announcer continues, "it won't be a sudden-death scenario. A letter will only be accrued if a player misses a shot that his or her opponent made, so . . ."

The announcer trails off, and I look his way. Angela is sliding a handwritten note over to him. His eyebrows rise as he reads it. He then leans closer to his microphone, and adds:

"Also, if it does come down to one player from each team remaining, the option to demand a prove-it shot will be available."

An excited murmur ripples through the crowd. I turn so Kaden and Felicity can't see the bewilderment on my features, and I whisper to Joel:

"What's a prove-it shot?"

"It's a dumb decision, is what it is." Joel is also keeping his voice down. "Instead of shooting when both players are down to their last letter, Player One can choose a place on the court from where Player Two must attempt a basket."

"That doesn't seem fair to Player Two," I point out.

"That's why there's a catch to keep Player One in-check: if Player Two misses, he or she doesn't automatically lose; Player One must make the same shot to win. However, if Player Two makes the shot that Player One demanded, Player Two is the automatic winner. In other words, the risks of demanding a prove-it shot are high, which is why it's rarely utilized."

"Good." Relief washes over me. The last thing I need to worry about is an obscure rule complicating the game.

"Now for the coin toss to determine which team goes first!" the announcer directs.

A cameraman scurries up next to me to project the coin toss up onto the scoreboard. Seth pulls a quarter from his pocket and states:

"Kaden, your mother requested that you be allowed to call this."

A few boos radiate out from the crowd. I manage not to grin.

"Call it before it lands." Seth flips the coin into the air.

"Tails," Kaden says.

The quarter lands at our feet. We all lean in to see it. The video guy shoves his camera down close to the ground.

"It's tails!" Seth picks up the quarter. "Kaden or Felicity will shoot first!"

Intense music resumes playing. The cameraman scurries back to the baseline. At Seth and Madison's direction, the four of us walk to the half of the court where Kaden and Felicity warmed up. Joel faces me once more and asks in a low voice:

"Would you like to go second or fourth in the rotation?"

"Fourth." My mouth is so parched that I can hardly speak. "That way, I can watch everyone else shoot and perhaps learn something from what I see."

Joel nods before we turn back toward our opponents. Kaden signals that he'll be shooting first, and Seth passes him a ball.

"I'll take a three-point shot from the left," Kaden declares, smirking at Joel and me.

I gulp. A three-point shot? Right off the bat? A three-point shot is like heaving a basketball to the moon and expecting it to land in a teacup.

Kaden arcs the ball into the air, and it goes through the hoop with a crisp snap of the net. The audience claps politely. I bite my lower lip while Joel walks to the same place on the court where Kaden just shot from. Joel accepts a pass from Seth, sets up, and releases the ball. He scores the basket, too, and the folks in the stands detonate with cheers. It's now Felicity's turn, but she still seems far more interested in talking to Joel than paying attention, and she hardly glances at the hoop as she shoots. She misses.

"That's an H for Felicity!" the announcer pronounces while the letter appears by her name on the scoreboard.

I dare to breathe. Three-point shot avoided . . . for now.

Joel comes back to my side. "All right, you get to choose the next shot. Pick one of your best; don't worry if you think it's easy."

"Got it." I wipe my clammy hands on my shorts.

Madison passes me a ball. The audience begins chanting my name. Everything is a blur as I move close to the hoop. My brain is frantically replaying what Joel taught me, and I'm begging my muscles to recall everything I learned from my brother years ago as well as what I practiced this month. With unsteady hands, I release the ball. It goes in! The crowd goes crazy. I nearly collapse with relief.

Kaden saunters up beside me. "So a hot chemistry tutor can do layups. How cute."

I don't reply before I slide out of his way, though I know he's right: the shot I chose is ridiculously simple. I suppose that's a good thing for Kaden, though, considering he's distractedly wagging his eyebrows at me as he launches the ball. He misses the shot. My jaw drops. The crowd gasps.

"Kaden with an H!" the announcer states.

Kaden's jaw clenches, and he starts muttering under his breath as he storms off. Joel, meanwhile, sets up a new shot that's also close to the hoop, clearly keeping things within my range. He makes the basket. Felicity gives him a playful nudge and then makes the basket, too. Adrenaline is pumping through me as I take my turn.

I miss. Badly.

Sympathetic moans rise up from the fans. Angela and her entourage start clapping.

"That's an H for Danielle!" the announcer's voice rings out like a thundering curse from the heavens.

Kaden's smug expression returns, though sweat is lining his brow. He ventures beyond the three-point line once more and sinks another basket. Joel preps to take the same shot, but as he starts to shoot, Kaden makes a sudden, slight move in his direction. Joel reflexively adjusts his body in response, causing the ball to veer off-target as it leaves his hands. The ball hits the rim for a miss.

"An H for Joel!"

People start booing at Kaden.

"Kaden, you need to give the shooter adequate room, all right?" Seth is frowning. "That wasn't cool."

Kaden chuckles. "Hey, If Lambert wanted me out of the way, he could have asked."

The crowd is still booing at Kaden while Felicity picks a mid-court shot and drains it. This means I'm next. The arena falls into such a hush that I'm sure people can hear my heart pounding as I shoot. I miss again. Despair sweeps over me.

"An O for Danielle!"

"Aw, that's too bad, sweetie." Kaden gives me another obnoxious wink as he goes back behind the three-point line.

Kaden releases the ball, but he misses this time. The crowd isn't shy about cheering as an O appears by his name on the scoreboard. Kaden glares up at the stands.

Joel drains another low-risk basket. Felicity is chatting at him like the competition isn't even happening as she attempts the same shot. The ball doesn't go in, but she just laughs and resumes talking at Joel like it doesn't matter. Now it's my turn. Sticking to the game plan, I stay near the hoop. I score the basket.

"Okay, this is getting stupid." Kaden's brows are low as he storms up behind me. "It's time to get rid of you guys."

Kaden doesn't even wait for me to clear out of his way before he shoots. The ball clanks hard against the backboard and ricochets away.

"An R for Kaden!"

The audience celebrates. Meanwhile, Angela is piercing Kaden with a rather scary I-paid-a-lot-of-money-for-you-to-play-on-the-best-select-teams-over-the-years-so-you-better-not-fail-me-now look. I kind of feel badly for Kaden.

Joel drains another straightforward shot. Astoundingly, Felicity again barely pays attention when she shoots, and she misses for her third letter. Kaden scowls and begins pacing the floor.

I attempt another layup, and I nearly shrivel with panic as the ball swirls around the rim before dropping in. The fans respond with more applause, and I give them an appreciative wave before I move out of the way. Kaden is visibly seething as he scores the same shot. Joel sinks the basket, too. Felicity saunters up beside Joel, giggles while whispering something to him, and takes her attempt. She misses. While the announcer updates the crowd on the score, Joel comes over to me and says:

"You're doing great."

"It helps that you're selecting easy shots," I reply with a sigh. "Frankly, I'm sorry you're not able to play by yourself. You would take shots that no one else could make. You would win this thing in a flash."

Joel leans in closer to me. "I don't want to be by myself, though. I want to be with you."

Our gazes hold for a beat before he steps aside. My heart is drumming more wildly than ever as I head to the basket, though I'm not certain if my palpitations are due to the fact that a bazillion people are watching me or due to the way Joel was just peering into my eyes.

I force myself to concentrate as I set up another elementary shot. Mercifully, the ball goes in the basket. Kaden's nostrils are flared, and there's more sweat on his brow as he chucks up an uncharacteristically stiff-looking shot. The ball hits the rim for a miss. That's an S for him. He's cracking under the pressure. I can't believe it.

Kaden huffs out a breath but stays beside me while Joel heads to the other side of the court. As Joel readies to shoot, Kaden unexpectedly drapes his arms over my shoulders. Joel's eyes dart our way. I shrug off Kaden's arm, causing Kaden to chuckle. Joel's cheek muscle twitches, and he hits Kaden with a severe look before putting his attention back on the hoop. However, Joel's gaze remains stormy as he shoots. He misses the basket. Moans rise up from the crowd.

Felicity's eyes dart fast between Kaden, Joel, and me. She waves Kaden over to her. The two of them confer in low voices. Felicity then saunters to the right elbow of the key for her turn. I grow cold. The right elbow. The shot I can't make . . . the shot, I realize, that they know I can't make because they each overheard me say so.

Felicity drains the shot with ease. She glances my way before sliding aside. Nausea is rising up inside me as I trek to the place of death on the court. The arena falls still. I make sure that I do everything precisely right with my shooting mechanics, yet I miss the basket. Like always.

"An R for Danielle!"

I apprehensively lift my eyes to the scoreboard. Kaden has four letters, Joel has two, Felicity has four, and I have three.

Kaden makes his next shot. No one claps except for the University Hospital entourage. In contrast, when Joel makes the same basket, the fans celebrate. Felicity tosses her ponytail and starts saying something to Joel as she nonchalantly takes her turn. She misses. My eyebrows spring upward.

"Ladies and gentleman, that's Felicity's final letter!" the announcer declares. "Let's show her some appreciation for participating today!"

The crowd claps. Kaden kicks a chair. Felicity gives the people in the stands a wave, bats her lashes at Joel yet again, and walks to the sideline to watch the rest of the event with other members of the women's team. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that she's so carefree. This really has been nothing more than a game to her . . . and a chance to make googily eyes at Joel.

I snap back to attention when I remember it's my turn to choose the shot.

The arena gets tensely quiet. My body is shaking as I attempt another basic basket. The ball falls out of the hoop, and it's like the world crashes down around me. That's my fourth letter. One more miss, and I'm out of the competition, too.

Kaden's face is blotchy as he goes to nearly the half-court line and hurls up the ball like a madman. It actually goes in. The crowd gasps in amazement. My chest clenches. Joel will undoubtedly make the basket, but after he does, I'll have to take the shot . . . and I'll miss, which means I'll be out.

As Joel gets ready to shoot, he glances at me and grins. He then releases the ball, though it's not with his usual smooth shooting motion. The ball contacts the rim and falls away for a miss, giving him another letter. I gawk at Joel as he comes over to me.

"You missed on purpose, didn't you?" I demand softly.

Joel shrugs. "I had a letter to burn, and I'm not about to let my teammate get eliminated because of Kaden's Hail Mary shots."

I smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Joel breaks into a grin of his own.

I accept a pass from Madison and take a jump shot close to the hoop. It goes in, leading to more celebrating among the fans. Kaden is breathing hard and fast as he takes his turn; he sinks the shot. Joel signals for a pass from Seth, but Kaden hastily snatches a ball out of one of the carts while saying:

"Hey, Lambert, take this one, buddy."

Kaden hurls the ball at Joel with bullet-like speed and force. Joel spins in Kaden's direction, but it's too late; the ball slams into the tip of Joel's right pointer finger. Joel lets out a moan of pain, drops the ball, and grips his right hand in his left. There's a split-second of stunned silence, and then the fans start booing louder than ever at Kaden.

Horrified, I sprint to Joel's side. "Are you okay?"

"Well, I have a finger that's severely sprained or possibly broken." Joel wincingly attempts to move his hand.

I glance at Kaden; he's watching Joel and me with a victorious grin. Joel notices Kaden, too. Clearing his throat, Joel empties his face of emotion, rolls back his shoulders, and picks up the ball. Everyone in the stands gets to their feet and cheers. Kaden's grin falters. Though Joel is acting like nothing is wrong, however, I see him flinch as he shoots. The ball clanks off the rim for a miss.

"It looks like that injury is affecting Joel's shot!" The announcer sounds genuinely distressed. "That's an S for him!"

I do a panicked check of the scoreboard. Joel, Kaden, and I are all on our last letter.

"Stay with the plan," Joel says to me while bracing his arm against his side. His finger is becoming more swollen and purple by the second. "Pick a shot that'll keep you in the game. Make Kaden prove himself. He's rattled."

I nod and find a spot on the court. Hardly breathing, I bend at the knees and send the ball into the air. It bounces on the rim once . . . twice . . . and falls in. Thank goodness.

Kaden easily makes the same basket, and there's a collective groan of unmasked disappointment from the fans. Seconds later, though, everyone resumes cheering as Joel prepares for his turn. His finger looks terribly painful, and his movements are guarded and jerky. Gritting his teeth, Joel attempts the shot. The ball circles the rim and falls out.

I freeze. The audience goes silent.

Joel is out of the competition.

"Ladies and gentleman, let's hear it for Joel Lambert!" The announcer's tone makes it clear that he's as stunned as I am. "Now we're down to Kaden and Danielle!"

Joel returns to my side, and he actually grins. "Well, partner, it's up to you now."

I shake my head. "Joel, I can't―"

"You can." Joel gazes right into my eyes. "You practiced and prepared more than anyone."

His earnest gaze makes my heart reignite with determination. I pull in another breath. I can do this. I. Can. Do. This.

The crowd is cheering. More adrenaline is pounding through me. The cameras are tracking my every move as I set up for a super-safe layup. I stare up at the hoop. Even from here, it seems a thousand miles away.

I have to make this basket, though. I have to.

I shoot. I miss.

I missed a layup.

I'm out.

"Remember, folks, that when there's one player left from each team, there's no sudden death," the announcer proclaims. "This means Danielle isn't out of the competition, but Kaden gets to set up the next shot."

The audience explodes with more applause, and the cheerleaders are doing flips. Working to catch my breath, I beeline for Joel's side. I'm still in this. We still have a chance. It's a tiny chance, but it's a chance.

Joel has been given an ice bag by a trainer. While holding the ice upon his injured hand, he tells me:

"Kaden is crumpling under the pressure so much that he isn't thinking straight. I've never seen him deteriorate this badly, but considering he's carrying the weight of his mother's hospital on his shoulders, I'm not surprised. I have no idea what he'll try next."

The arena falls back into an unsettled quiet as everyone waits on Kaden, who's standing near the center circle and wiping his brow. At last, he raises his voice and declares:

"I'm demanding a prove-it shot."

Chaos erupts.

"Ladies and gentleman, Kaden is going to risk it all on a prove-it shot!" The announcer's tone has reached maximum melodrama. "He'll choose where Danielle must shoot from. If she misses, and then he makes it, Kaden wins. However, if Danielle makes the shot, she wins the competition!"

I am rooted in place, numb and still trying to process what's happening, when Kaden looks directly at me with another cocky smile and adds:

"And I want Danielle to shoot from the right elbow of the key."

A whooshing sound fills my ears. My head gets light. The arena suddenly feels ten times larger, and the lights seem a thousand times more blinding.

The right elbow.

An easy jump shot for a real player, but a shot I cannot make. I should have known. I should have realized he would force me to shoot it.

"Danielle."

I hear Joel's steady voice above the commotion, and I look up at him.

He's searching my face closely. "What's the hardest exam you've ever taken?"

"Huh?"

"What's the hardest exam you've ever taken?"

"Probably the MCAT." I have no idea why we're talking about academics right now. "It covered several topics, it was a long exam, and without a great score, there was no way to be competitive when applying to med school."

"And how did you do on the MCAT?"

I'm still peering at him in bewilderment. "Really well, thankfully."

"And you did well because you were prepared and you blocked out distractions during the test, right?"

"Yes. I . . ." I trail off, and I smile. "So what you're saying is that this is another MCAT."

"Exactly. You're prepared. You have everyone's support. Now you just need to go out there, block out the noise, and ace your exam."

I breathe in and out a few times, and then I let my eyes drift to the front row. I see Savannah and her family members cheering. My parents and older brother (who I didn't even know had flown into town for this event) are on their feet. Friends, neighbors, and coworkers are calling out encouragement. I smile again, and I look up at Joel once more. He gives me a nod. I then start walking toward the key.

It's pure pandemonium in the arena, but I'm no longer noticing. The cameras are following my movements, yet I don't see them anymore. Madison towels off a basketball and passes it to me. I lock my attention on the hoop. I exhale slowly, imagining myself sitting in a crowded lecture hall on exam day. Soon, a familiar sense of in-control quiet settles over me. The world around me fades. I dribble the ball once . . . twice. I prop the ball in my hands. I bend at the knees. I close my eyes, knowing I've prepared and practiced this shot countless times. I've done my studying. My body knows what to do. I don't need to over-think this. I reopen my eyes. And I shoot.

The ball flies through the air in a journey that seems to take forever.

It swishes through the net.

I made the shot.

Joel and I won the competition. The pediatric play area is saved.

The world comes back to life around me. Everyone is cheering. Reporters are charging at me with microphones and cameras. My friends and family members rush the court . . . actually, it appears the whole student body and the entire Lakewood population is spilling out onto the hardwood. A blink later, I'm completely swallowed up by the throng. Camera flashes are hitting my eyes. People are shouting questions. Confetti (confetti!) is falling from the ceiling. Dramatic, anthem-like music is playing. The cheerleaders are doing a dance routine.

Suddenly, Joel is pushed through the throng to my side.

"Joel, how do you feel about saving the pediatric play area?" a reporter yells.

Joel looks right at the reporter. "I didn't save the pediatric play area. Danielle Gillespie saved it. She saved it with her determination, athleticism, and bravery."

The cameras swivel to me. I stare into the lenses, racking my brain for something to say. Before I can muster a remark, however, the crowd parts, revealing that Angela Cox is coming straight toward me.

Everyone backs up―everyone but Joel, that is; he stays right at my side. As I watch Angela getting closer, my stomach sinks. This is it. This is when I'm going to be eliminated from contention for med school and residency. This is when everything I've worked and sacrificed for will be destroyed.

Angela reaches me and stops.

And she smiles. A real smile.

"Danielle Gillespie," Angela says, miraculously not seeming to care about the cameras, "you've certainly put a wrench in the works as we're attempting to establish the hospital's budget for the next few years . . . and I thank you for doing so. Sometimes numbers make sense on a spreadsheet, but in real life, those same numbers don't make sense at all. So thank you for making us re-think our plan." She holds out a hand. "If you ever need a letter of recommendation, don't hesitate to ask me. Anyone who has the moxie to do what you've done is the type of person I want caring for me and my loved ones."

This cannot be real. This cannot be happening.

I'm trembling as I shake Angela's offered hand. "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome."

Angela walks off. I stare after her until I see Kaden pushing his way past the crowds to reach where Joel and I are standing. Joel takes a step nearer to me. When Kaden gets to us, he looks from Joel to me and back to Joel. He then says:

"Nice game, you guys. To be honest, I'm glad you won. That play area at the hospital needs to stay, no matter what Mom and her administrators may have thought."

Joel grins and uses his good hand to give Kaden an affable fist-bump on the shoulder. "Thanks, pal. I'm looking forward to another great season with you."

"Likewise." Kaden shows us a genuine smile in return and saunters off.

Before I can catch my breath, I become surrounded again by family, friends, community members, reporters, and fellow students. People are asking for my autograph and requesting to take selfies with me. More interview questions are hurled my way. I have no idea how much time passes before I manage to speak with everyone, pose for all the photos, and thank folks for coming. Finally, though, the crowd thins out. Only then do I realize that Joel is gone. Emotion thickens my throat as I slowly turn in a circle, taking in the scene. Joel stepped aside to allow me to have the spotlight, but this means I didn't have the chance to tell him goodbye.

Some of the arena's lights are shut off with a resounding clang.

This month is over. My time with Joel is done. Amidst all this unbelievable joy, I feel my heart break.