A Hoop for MaryA Story by Tayler RiouffMary, a high school student failing math, is passed to play the game. Her mother and coach witness a victory that defies morality.
Note: This was also a writing prompt from my creative writing and editing class. A classmate gave us a prompt and we created a story based on the information. This is also my rough draft.
Cindy
Llewellyn knew that her daughter was failing math. Mary was a bright,
rambunctious girl of 16 and the star player of the female basketball team, but
numbers didn’t come easily to her. It was the first class she had failed in her
two years at Fairdale High and it was compromising her position on the team.
This was also the first year the Lady Bobcats had a chance of proceeding to the
state finals. The
determining game was tonight and when Cindy stepped into the gym the atmosphere
was a clash of anticipation and excitement. The team was warming up on court
and Mary shot up to take her spot in front of the hoop. She shot, scored, and
jogged to the back of the line. When Cindy waved, Mary returned the gesture,
face flushed and eye bright. Cindy took her usual place in the stands, right
behind the team on the court. She placed her jacket beside her and glanced at
her watch. Ten minutes until the game started. “Mrs.
Llewellyn?” Cindy
startled and looked up into the face of the Coach. Sarah Thrace was a tall
woman in her mid thirties. Her light brown hair was pulled away from her face
in a no-nonsense ponytail and her high cheekbones were flushed, much like her
players on the court. She was also Mary’s math teacher. Cindy
nodded. “Hello Coach Thrace.” “How
are you this evening?” Coach Thrace was a kind woman but a quiet one as well.
She was not prone to striking up conversation this close to a game. Behind her
the assistant coach stood shouting advice to the girls. Cindy’s nerves crept on
edge. “Fine,”
she said, “Just fine. How are the girls?” Coach
Thrace glanced over her shoulder and quickly back at Cindy. “They’re ready,”
she replied, “More then ready. They want to win more then anything.” There
was a pause in the conversation and, Haley, a short, quick girl, shouted,
“Head’s up!” Both Cindy and Coach Thrace looked around to see a basketball come
hurtling in their direction. Coach Thrace took a quick step to the right and
caught the ball on the third bounce to the bleachers. “Be careful, Haley,” she called
before throwing the ball back. “Your tosses are too high, you’ll never make the
shot if you aim above the board!” Cindy
relaxed slightly, believing that was the end to the conversation. But when
Coach Thrace turned back to her she knew something had to be wrong. “Coach, is
there something I can do for you?” Coach
Thrace sighed. A sad look crossed her face. “It’s about your daughter,” she
said after a few moments of silence. “She’s not doing too well in my class,
ma’am. She’s-“ “Failing,”
Cindy cut in. “I know, she told me.” Dread fell into her stomach and it stung
like fire. “Is this going to affect her game?” Around her the stands began to
fill and the mingling sound of hundreds of voices polluted the air. Cindy
leaned forward to hear the coach’s response. “It
should,” Coach Thrace said. “It should affect her game. She shouldn’t even be
warming up.” She pointed to the bench. “Mary should be sitting right there. But
I put her on the court because she deserves to play.” Coach
Thrace glanced down at her tennis shoes. Cindy knotted her hands together. She
felt a knee in her back as people filled in the stand behind her. Cindy heard a
quick apology but paid it no heed. “She
failed today’s exam but I passed her.” Guilt riddled her eyes as she regarded
Cindy once more. Guilt mingled with a ting of desperation. “She missed twenty
nine of the thirty two questions and I passed her so she could play in the
game.” Cindy
blinked at her. She wanted her daughter to play as much as the coach did but to
compromise her credibility was risky. As she was about to offer words of
encouragement to Coach Thrace the buzzer sounded through the through the
gymnasium. The coach turned away immediately, her movements animated as she
gathered her players. Mary smiled at Cindy and she forced a smile back. The
game began. Cindy
cheered for her daughter as loudly as the students around her. The quarters
passed on and the teams stayed even. Cindy watched her daughter score goal
after goal but they were evenly matched and the florescent lights on the
scoreboard rose with the same consistency. Anticipation leaked throughout the
gymnasium like water. The cheerleader’s pompoms swished and flicked. The sound
seemed permeate above the voices. Swish-swish-flick.
Swish-swish-flick. When Cindy looked up from the pompoms, the last quarter
had just under a minute left. Mary
stood away from the goal, flanked by teammates on each side. She held the ball
in her hands, turning the ball in her hands. The next shot would determine the
game, Cindy knew. She glanced at the Coach who was standing still as a beam,
arms crossed. They were down two points and in Mary could make this next three
pointer shot; they’d win the game by a point. Silence
fell over the court as the game hung in the balance. Mary bent her knees, eyes
fixed on the goal, and shot the ball into the air. It flew, slowly, before
hitting the rim and bouncing into the net. The
gymnasium exploded as the scoreboard ticked to zero and the score shifted in
their favor. The Lady Bobcats had won and were advancing to the state finals.
Mary was stormed by her fellow teammates as they cheered and jumped up and
down. Cindy smiled, watching, as they were ushered down to the locker by a
beaming Coach Thrace. The woman turned, looked at Cindy, and her smile fell.
Guilt riddled her features once again and the triumph faltered within Cindy.
Coach Thrace disappeared and the gymnasium emptied. Cindy remained, starting at
the doors to the locker room, the feeling of pride leaving a rotten taste in
her mouth. © 2013 Tayler Riouff |
StatsAuthorTayler RiouffCullowhee, NCAboutRainy days, lattes, jazz, leather bound journals, and leg warmers. I study professional writing and philosophy. I'm addicted to coffee and tea. I question everything, know little, and love to writ.. more..Writing
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