Chapter 1: 1 – Nikki

A streak of sweat ran down Nikki Slater's back, trailing her spine and making her jersey cling to her skin. She bounced the ball once, then twice, getting a feel for it. Another test bounce, then another, and then she tried lining up the shot.

No good. She dribbled again, then lined it up once more. There was noise all around her, but she blocked it out.

The girl was at the free throw line of a basketball court she had never played in before, in the gym of a school she knew nothing about, in front of a lot of people she didn't know. It was a familiar feeling at this point. She had been all across the state in her team's run to the girl's high school basketball championship. Today was the day.

Don't fuck it up. That's what her mom had told her. She was the coach, watching from the sidelines in her baby blue pantsuit right now. Mom really had to wear that godforsaken thing to every game.

Nikki finally made her move. Had to or the timer would run out. She straightened herself, pushed off the ground, and let the ball fly. It went up in an arc, hit the rim, swirled for an agonizing instant, then... yes! Went right through the hoop.

The big scoreboard mounted on the wall changed. Lower Griffin High School went from 68 to 69. Good, gaining on Paddaquinnock's 72. 

Her side clapped. The other side didn't. It was routine as this point. The second free throw was always easier. Nikki recreated what she did the first time, but adjusted the motions slightly. This time, it was flawless; nothing but net.

The number went up again. 70 to 72. They had three minutes left on the clock to get a lead and win this thing.

Catch. Dribble. Pass. Block. Chase. Nikki wasn't serious about a lot, but she was serious about basketball. She wasn't all that tall, not in comparison to the other players on the team, but she made the six foot four girls look five two.

One of the Paddaquinnock girls had the ball. Nikki snapped into defense mode, getting as close as she could, arms at the ready. The girl was about her height, and knew Nikki could outjump her. Nikki watched the girl's eyes, trying to read her mind. At the same time, she watched the ball. Her opponent's dribbling was uneasy.

Sneakers squeaked against polished wood. The girl lunged for it, trying to get closer to the hoop, but Nikki hounded her, pushing her back. No chance of making a shot over her head, no chance of pressing forward with a relentless player like Nikki on her ass. Moms and dads in the audience shouted cheers and curses and conflicting instructions.

She had to pass to one of her taller teammates. The other Lower Griffin girls had all fallen into position, each matched with an opponent around their same size. The girl eased back from Nikki, dribbling faster now.

Left or right? Which way was she going to go? Nikki focused on her opponent's hands again. The bitch had to move sometime, or Lower Griffin would get the ball.

The girl drew her arm back, dribbling the ball behind herself with one hand. She made like she was about to pass it to the tall black girl on the right, but instead shot it left towards another of her teammates. Nikki had seen it coming from a mile away, and was already in the ball's path when the girl fired.

Nikki caught it automatically and started dribbling, flying to the other side of the court as the Lower Griffin crowd cheered. The game shifted around her, girls trading positions as they ran from the left side to the right. Now it was her turn on offense.

She liked offense. But Paddaquinnock had a good defense. And the game timer was dipping ever closer to zero.

Pass. Catch. Pass. Catch. Lower Griffin chipped away at the Paddaquinnock defense, making progress towards the hoop an inch at a time. Nikki found the ball in her hands as the shot clock was reaching zero. She hopped up high, making a pass to one of her teammates, a 6'1" girl named Donna, who had snuck close to the hoop for a dunk.

Bam. Two points. Tied now. Just needed another basket.

Paddaquinnock had the ball. Not for long. One of their tallest girls tried to make a half-court shot, but failed miserably. It bounced off the rim into the waiting hands of one of Nikki's teammates. The coach flipped out at the girl's off-the-cuff play, shouting a few words he shouldn't have. Paddaquinnock had already used all their time outs, but Nikki knew they would've used one then just to bitch out the girl some more.

Alright, Nikki thought. Time to break this tie. And she wanted to be the one to do it.

Pass. Catch. Nikki had the ball. Paddaquinnock's defense had been shaken up by the sudden switch. Their coordination was all off. Clearly, no one had expected that lanky bitch to screw up so badly. Nikki passed to a teammate, pressed forward to get through a girl with a few inches on her, then caught the ball again.

She scanned the defense and found it. The perfect pass. The girl couldn't hide the smile on her face as she spun around one girl, darted past another girl, just barely squeaked between two more, and finally tossed the ball up towards the basket. 

Swish. Perfect layup. Wasn't a dunk, but it was still a two pointer. 74 to 72 with less than a minute left. The audience cheered, but all Nikki could hear was her heart pumping hard in her chest. Adrenaline coursed through her.

The game ended pretty soon after that. It wasn't a dramatic buzzer beater or a brutal stomp. Lower Griffin just pushed hard on defense and locked down their hoop. Winning by two points against a scattered opponent wasn't much of an achievement, but when it was the state championship, who gave a shit?

Hugs and high fives all around. Congratulations and slaps on the back. Tears and smiles. Nikki and everyone else on the team had spent so many hours working towards this. It was the culmination of four years of brutal exercise and practice games. Her entire high school career had been building to this glorious moment, and at last, here it was.

So why did Nikki feel so... dissatisfied?

---

Nikki ran a hand through her short-cropped dyed-blonde hair. It was hours after the game and she was still sweaty. At least she was out of that jersey - coach had brought the team to a fancy Italian restaurant for a celebration dinner. Nikki had changed into a loose tee shirt and jeans for the occasion. It was what she normally wore, to school, around the house, anywhere. Some of the other girls had worn dresses or other more formal-looking clothes, but Nikki didn't really get the point.

She was sitting between two of her teammates at a long table. Her mother sat at the end of the table just a few seats away, still in her awful pantsuit. Happy conversations filled the air, but Nikki just picked at her food in silence, staring at her glass of Coke and watching the ice melt.

"You doing alright Nik?"

The question came from the team's guards, a frizzy-haired girl named Jackie. Nikki turned to face her, surprised she even bothered asking. What was the point, Nikki thought? Nobody ever answered that question honestly. Someone could hate everything about their life, but if they got asked "are you doing alright?" or "are you okay?" they'd never admit they felt terrible. Even if they did decide to be honest and spill everything to whoever asked, unless that person was a licensed therapist, they'd be able to do jack shit to make them feel better. So really, there was no reason to say anything other than -

"I'm fine." Nikki picked up her fork and knife and cut off a piece of her chicken parm. She popped it in her mouth and spoke through her chews. "Just tired from the game, I guess."

"You really saved us in the first half. And at the end there," Jackie replied.

"I usually have to save you guys, yeah."

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Jackie laughed, not as offended as Nikki hoped. "You're gonna do great in college."

Yeah. College. Nikki's favorite thing to talk about.

"Thanks," Nikki said, taking a sip of her cola. "You too."

"Yeah. I applied for Bushwell. Haven't got my letter back yet, but I think I'll get in. My boyfriend signed up too... but honestly, like, I wanna be kinda free in college, you know?"

Boys. That other great conversation topic Nikki loved talking about so much. All boys were immature, misogynistic, porn-addicted assholes and Nikki hoped the Y chromosome would go extinct sooner rather than later. What else was there to say? How could people have discussions about males that lasted more than two seconds? "They suck." "Indeed they do." End of discussion.

Nikki was great at communicating with the other girls on the court, but outside of that... she kinda hated most of her teammates. Nikki hated boys, but she almost hated other girls even more. They just could never shut up about their boyfriends, or their plans for college, or other things Nikki didn't have.

"So you're saying you wanna break up with him?" Nikki asked, trying her best to sound curious and not wholly unimpressed.

"Well, I mean... I want to try new things, right? We're only 18, it's not like any of this is like, a done deal for life."

"That's fair. I guess."

Not really, she thought. What the hell was the point of a boyfriend if you were just going to ditch him the moment you wanted to slut around? What a waste of time. If she ever got a boyfriend - unlikely, since there wasn't a guy in the world worthy of her - he'd be hers for life. And she had the self respect to return that.

"My cousin goes to Bushwell," Jackie said. "I went up with her once. She's in one the sororities. Apparently it's a total party school. Which is like, I wanted to go to one while I was visiting, but she didn't let me cause..."

Jackie kept yammering on about her cousin or something. Nikki was thinking of a good way to get the girl to shut up when her mom tapped her on her shoulder. She looked to the woman. Though she had a smile on her face, she could tell there was something on her mind. Tucked under her arm was a folder.

"Hey, can I pull you aside for a second here?" Her mom glanced to Jackie and smiled. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's alright, Coach Slater," Jackie said, turning back to her dinner. More than alright, Nikki thought. Well, unless whatever her mom had to talk about was more annoying.

Damn it. It probably was.

Hands in her pockets, Nikki rose from her seat and followed her mom around a corner. It was late, so the rest of the restaurant was almost entirely empty. The two slipped into an empty booth and Nikki's mom laid out the folder in front of her. School stuff.

"Nicole... I'm very proud of your performance tonight. I don't want to put a damper on all of that, cause I know you've been working very hard for this. But we need to talk about school."

Nikki sunk back in her seat. "What's there to talk about?"

"You've been offered a scholarship. A very generous one, from Dufresne."

That made her perk up. Nikki's mom had graduated from Dufresne - they weren't particularly well-known for their academics, but their athletics were on another level. Especially girl's basketball. Getting on their team was basically a golden ticket straight to the WNBA.

"You're telling me Dufresne wants me to play for them?"

"Yes. But - and this is a big, big but, I'm talking a but of Kardashian proportions here - you need to get your GPA up. I mean, look at this!" Mrs. Slater pushed the folder forward, tapping at one page. "You're close to flunking in three different classes! If you don't turn this around, you can kiss that scholarship goodbye."

Nikki felt like she had just been on the world's worst rollercoaster: a wave of excitement, then a towering crash. She grabbed the folder and flipped through it. Her mom was right. According to this, she was just barely scraping up D minuses in English, algebra, and chemisty, and had regular Ds in everything else. She thought she had Cs! When did all this happen? Suddenly she was sweating harder than she was during the game.

"Okay so... so I just study harder?"

"You're going to need more than that. Serious extra credit, perfect scores on all the projects and the final exams... but I did the numbers. It can be done." The woman leaned over, pulling the folder from Nikki's hands. "You've been coasting through high school because of this team. I can't pull strings for you anymore, Nicole. You need to focus on schoolwork. On Monday, you need to arrange a meeting with each of your teachers about this..."

Nikki's head was in her hands by the time her mother was done talking. God, why did she have to be so dumb? There was no way she was going to salvage this! Why did colleges even care about athletes' grades? Last time she checked, Michael Jordan or Serena Williams or any of those inbred-looking NFL guys never had to do any algebra. They played their sport and they played it well and they got hundreds of millions of dollars.

"Okay... I'll try my best."

"Nicole, I'm saying this in the kindest way possible: I don't think that'll be enough." Mrs. Slater tucked the folder into her purse. "I'm going to get you some help. A tutor, something like that..."

"Aren't those like... expensive?"

"Don't worry about that, Nicole. Worry about your grades." Mrs. Slater got up. "We'll talk more about this when we get home. You can get back to your dinner now... I'm happy to see you talking with the other girls for once."

Nikki sighed. She was good on the court. Not in the classroom, or with other people.

This was gonna suck.

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