Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
I half-glared at him. “You tell me now?” I motioned outside. “We just got here.”
He chuckled, grabbing his bag as the bus stopped and Pete opened the door. Standing up, he patted me on the arm. “Pete does best when he’s talking to someone, and from what I hear, you needed distracting. Least, that’s what Forster said earlier.”
Forster said?
He said what?
But Aiden was off the bus.
I was going to get off next, but one of the coaches said, “Stay put.”
I stayed put.
I stayed put as all the coaches got off, the other trainer. Their other staff, and as each player trailed past me.
“Heard you almost got us lost.”
I swallowed over a lump. That was Lestroy talking to me. He was teasing as he held his bag over his shoulder and added, “Thanks for not doing that.”
Oh, God.
Garth Carzoni was next, winking. “I was rooting for the right, not the left. Glad you were correct.”
Seat, swallow me now.
Matthew Crusty was up. He said to Carzoni as he passed me by, also winking, “I heard she’s dyslexic and has to turn her hands around to get the L right.”
A little gurgling sound came from me.
Juan spoke up, the next one passing me by, “That’s why Reese went after her, making sure we didn’t end up at that casino. Remember that one time?”
Crusky raised his arm, already outside. “Oh yeah. That one time.”
Juan went down the stairs, but flashed me a grin over his shoulder. “Wish us luck, Staff Member.”
Direction Girl to Staff Member. I wasn’t sure if I’d been demoted or not.
Reese was the last one out except for one of their staff in the back of the bus.
He stopped at my seat, a backpack on and his hands resting on the straps. “They’re hazing you, just a little bit.”
Another gurgle escaped my throat.
“You guys don’t get it.” I had to blink a couple times. “This is—a wet dream for me.”
But no randoms came out of me. I just now realized that, and as if reading my mind, Reese said, “Why do you think Pete was talking to you the whole time? I might’ve had a word with him earlier.” Then he was moving past me.
“Wait.”
All of them were going up into the plane. I was looking around. “Where is Pete?”
“He’s on the plane. He wanted to get on first because his knee was giving him problems earlier. We’ll have a bus waiting for us at the next airport to the stadium.”
“But—”
Reese chuckled. “Have a good one, Direction Girl. We’ll be back after we win.” He didn’t wink, but his smirk had enough punch behind it. I lost my train of thought for a second, until I clued back in that he was getting off and crossing the tarmac to get on that plane too.
They all had been, except one.
The last staff guy was holding a bag of garbage, coming back down the center aisle. I asked as he passed me by, “Do I have a ride home?”
He glanced up and shrugged. “I don’t know, but you gotta get off the bus. I have to lock it for Pete.”
I got off. He locked the bus, jogging over to the plane, and I was left standing there, my mouth hanging open. All the while as the plane closed up and took off, long after I saw it disappear into the air.
I’d been ditched, and I wasn’t even sure who had ditched me.
Then the airport office door opened and a woman waved at me. “You Direction Girl?”
I groaned, heading over to her. “Yeah.”
She smiled, laughing. “They told me to wait until the plane was long gone to tell you that I’m your ride back. Give me a minute to close up, then I’ll drive you.”
I didn’t know if I should laugh or curse.
I did both.
Two days later, they’d won their first preseason game and were back practicing.
Both gyms were filled and were in the middle of drills. The sound of bouncing basketballs, whistles, yelling, and the squeaks of shoes against the floor filled the courts.
And the smell of sweat.
I loved it.
I’d never enjoyed playing the sport myself, but my brother was a basketball star for our high school team. He was starting varsity in seventh grade, and growing up as Chance Manning’s little sister had its benefits—but also its cons. One of the benefits, I was treated like royalty at every single basketball game. Another girl, whose brother was on the varsity team with Chance, told me she’d started being one of the team’s managers. That was a loose title they’d given her because she showed up and took stats for their games. She’d asked if I wanted to do it with her, and the answer had been a resounding hell yes. The popular girls down front always had time for Chance’s little sister, and the only better seating was actually with the team. That’s where they put us managers.