Author's Note - Super sorry for the delay in updating. I've had a bit of writer's block with this chapter because its the first I'm starting to do more than foreshadow any Brucas activity, and I really want to get it right. I've been getting a lot of positive feedback about story and so I'm wanting to keep that up. Also, had a class start last week, so got caught up in that. Hope to have the rest of this chapter up by sometime Saturday.
Chapter Six
"When will you realize / Baby I'm not like the rest?"
- Demi Lovato, Give Your Heart A Break
Tree Hill is a town like many others across America, and in particular it is like many others when it comes to high school sports. Its truly a peculiar phenomenon, high school sports, that is. For a season, the boys who play a sport are bigger and more important than the millionaires who play on prime time and we see on ESPN, the only big game is the one on Friday night, the only box score that matters the one printed by the local daily.
But the boys who star this season may graduate before the next, and then we'll be learning new names and cheering for new faces, hoping with new dreams of glory. Such is the way of the high school athlete, four years, win or lose, scholarship or no, and then it's all over for most.
Perhaps it is because it is such a fleeting glory, that it is quite so poignant to those within its light. The Nathan Scotts of today, young, handsome, talented and arrogant almost always become the Dan Scotts of tomorrow. That nagging sense of what should have been, the belief in the if I had only, the most fervent desire for a second chance.
What seems to separate the Dan Scotts from the Keith Scotts is one of two things perhaps, the never having it or more importantly, the ability to let it go. High school stardom is like the girl that you just can't stop calling, no matter how many times she's told you its over, for some. For others, it had its time and its place and now its just the past, no matter how colorful or exciting, its time for the next generation of high school basketball players.
When you meet a stage mom, a helicopter parent, the mythical 'tiger mom' or even the Uncle Rico of Napoleon Dynamite fame or worse yet, watch an episode of Toddlers & Tiaras, consider that the adult involved is just as much a victim as their child now is, a victim of the same sport, the same ideas. That same nagging feeling that they weren't good enough, and if they had just done this, or just done that, then it would all be different.
Its that inescapable feeling that if not for one thing, your whole life would be different. What a miserable thing, to be able to point to just one point in time, one fixture in your life and say "If not for this, I would be..." Everything.
Basketball practice had normalized itself after the first day and the following morning of suicide wind sprints. Like the mutually assured destruction detente of the Cold War, the realization that Coach Durham had no qualms whatsoever about running them to death, the Scott brothers had come to something of an unspoken agreement. The days between that first early morning marathon conditioning session and Friday morning had seen them arrive for practice, quietly put on their practice uniforms, quietly come out to the court, quietly pass each-other the ball, and quietly developed a certain chemistry on the court that you expect from two highly talented brothers playing the same sport.
It had come with a certain heaviness, the realization that his half brother, the blonde haired illegitimate skeleton in his father's closet being on the basketball team actually made the team better, made him better. He had grown up his whole life overhearing fights between his parents about your son and the other woman and what about Nathan? He wasn't sure what to make of it. Didn't know if he was supposed to hate him, didn't know if that's what his parents wanted, or if he was supposed to be his brother, or if they were just supposed to co-exist. He felt threatened, but then he didn't, because his father had picked him, hadn't he?
It was good for Lucas that there was basketball, because that made ignoring all the confusion in his life that much simpler. Walking through school was hard now, because the notoriety he'd gained by first stepping up for Jimmy Edwards, and then getting beat up in his stead had made his simple, head down, just playin' ball at the River Court life impossible to live. He'd been noticed, which was cardinal sin for anyone just trying to make it quietly through high school. The more basketball they played, and the way they continued to not talk, he'd almost begun to like Nathan. After all, what perimeter shooter didn't appreciate someone who could penetrate inside and then kick the ball back to a now wide open shooter?
Peyton didn't like what she was seeing in Nathan, it made her worried. After practice he was always too tired to hang out and he always seemed like he was in a bad mood, but wouldn't talk about it. Before, when the only person he'd had to hate was his father, he'd always told her all about it, even when she'd been sick of hearing about it. She and Brooke hadn't talked about Lucas since the night she'd dropped her off after school. They'd talked about nothing they way they often did, she'd talk to Brooke about her troubles with Nathan and Brooke would just listen like she always had, tell that it was all going to be okay, that meant to be would just happen like it was supposed to. But what if its not meant to be?
She was used to being alone in a crowd of people, so the invisible wall that had come down between her and P Sawyer the night that her blonde friend had gone all anti-Lucas ballistic on her in the car hadn't been a difficult thing for Brooke to deal with. It wasn't that it didn't upset her or keep her up at night wondering what was so wrong with her and Peyton that a boy she wasn't even dating had come between them like this. She'd spent the week hanging out at Peyton's house after school, talking about nothing, boys, school, other girls and everything else except for anything substantial. The conversation they needed to have didn't happen.
It was also, apparently, impossible to talk to Lucas Scott. They only had one class together, English, and while he was mister smarty pants, knows everything about every writer ever in that class, outside of it he was apparently mute. Not that she'd been brave enough to really try, not after she'd seen him with Haley James, the junior in charge of the school's tutoring system. She was cute, in a nerdy kind of way, Brooke had thought. Her next door neighbor had said that Lucas didn't have a girlfriend, but maybe he just didn't know.
Tuesday, Jimmy Edwards rode the bus to school. Brooke didn't know what time the school bus left, so as she'd sat in her car parked on the curb by Jimmy's mailbox at seven thirty that morning waiting for him to come outside so she could offer him a ride, it occurred to her that the school bus might
come earlier than she thought, so Jimmy was already gone. Pursing her lips in a halfway frown, she'd pulled away from the curb and gone straight to
school, no Starbucks even.
She walked through the double-wide doors that led into the school from the student parking lot, her red backpack slung over one shoulder and the usual throng of students milling about in the hallways before the seven fifty five bell would send them all scurrying in one fashion or another to their home room classes to start the school day. She didn't even register for several seconds, staring blankly ahead at the floor as she walked to class when
Peyton Sawyer approached her,
"Morning B Davis!" The greeting stood still in empty air as Brooke had kept walking, Peyton falling into step beside her, wearing a black leather jacket, skinny jeans and a black Disturbed t shirt. Peyton let the silence linger for several steps before leaning over and bumping Brooke with his
shoulder,
"Hey you had your coffee yet?" The blonde asked as they turned a corner, tilting her head to the side to look at her friend with a curious glint to her smile,
"Oh what?" Brooke said suddenly, shaking her head for a moment and then looking back over at Peyton,
"Oh, no coffee yet. Ugh." She sighed, and then continued walking in-step with the blonde. Brooke hadn't mentioned a boy in almost five whole days, which was odd, considering it was Brooke Davis, the most popular girl in school. Suffice it to say, there was always a boy.
"Late night?" Peyton asked, probing. Brooke shook her head,
"No, not really." Another short answer, Peyton thought, first Brooke looked half dead to begin with, which wasn't Brooke, and she wasn't talking, which wasn't Brooke, just what was going on? She cut in front of Brooke, stopping her in her path.
"Hey you going to tell me what's up with you, or what?" Brooke looked up at Peyton for a long, silent second before something caught her eye and she looked for a moment over Peyton's shoulder. Peyton turned her head to see whatit was,
Lucas Scott crossing the hallway. She looked slowly back to Brooke, shook her head and stormed off past her down the hallway.
The sound in the Whitey Durham Gym was deafening. The "rat tat tat" of the drum line. "Go Ravens Go!" from the cheerleaders, the tell-tale SQUEAK of sneakers and that nervous tension, the waiting before 32 minutes that would set the tone for the rest of the season. The Tree Hill Ravens faced the Westlane Wildcats in their first game of the season. A middle of the road team, traditionally, not great - but not bad either. Sitting in the stands, Dan Scott waited anxiously for the starting lineups to be announced. Nathan had told him that Lucas had been moved to first team as Shooting Guard, and that he'd been moved to Power Forward. Dan didn't like Nathan not playing the Shooting Guard position, but with both of his sons on the court at the same time - a voice in the back of his head reminded him that this could be greatness.
She hadn't wanted to come. She had wanted to come. It was complicated. The gym belonged to Dan. But Lucas was her's. Lucas would want her there, she told herself. Keith had told her to come. She'd refused. He'd then showed up outside the diner in his truck waiting for her to come with him to the game.
"You can't miss his first game, Karen. You're his mother." He'd said. He was right. She knew he was right but still she didn't want to go. Didn't want to see Dan. Didn't want to remember what it had felt like to stand on the edges of the court as a Ravens cheerleader 17 years ago. Cheering for Dan.
Her son was tall and handsome. She watched him from where sat and it struck her just how natural he looked on the basketball court. Maybe Keith was on to something.
"And appearing on the court for the Tree Hill Ravens for the first time is Lucas Scott, blonde and better looking older brother of local hoops star Nathan Scott. This is is Mouth McFadden and Jimmy Edwards broadcasting live from Whitey Durham Gym as our hometown Ravens take on the Westlane Wildcats. Stay tuned for colorful play by play and for our special half time interview with Junk Moretti, Lucas' long time River Court opponent." Mouth and Jimmy were sitting next to each-other. Mouth wore a suit and Jimmy wore a suit of his fathers that didn't fit him very well but it was all he had.
"So Jimmy, what impact do you think Lucas will have on the game tonight?"
"Well, Mouth, that's an excellent question. I think it has a lot to do with how coach Whitey Durham chooses to use his second Scott. The lineup posted on the locker-room door this morning had Lucas taking Nathan's traditional spot as shooting guard, which may or may not cause some dissent on the team. We can't forget that Lucas only just joined the team."
Mouth looked over at Jimmy for a long moment before nodding and placing the mic in front of his face again and speaking again,
"Well folks, there you have it. Only time will tell what Lucas Scott means for the Ravens hopes for State Championship glory this season. Here we are, just moments from tip-off."
Jake Jagielski won the tip-off and sent the ball careening towards Nathan who took it and without a second glance was raising the down the court. Dan stood up where he sat raising both his fists as Nathan slipped the ball between his legs as he slipped past one red shirted defender and then rose up from the wooden court, rocking the house with a two handed slam-dunk that put the entire home crowd on its feet. As Nathan jogged back down the court he didn't move around Lucas and brushed shoulders with him,
"I don't need you, bastard." All thoughts of teamwork and chemistry seemed to have left Nathan. This was his game. His team. His year.
"Well it seems as if there might be some tension on the court, Ravens fans as Nathan Scott just bumped right into Lucas Scott on his way back down the court. Hopefully it won't affect how they play tonight as Nathan's fast break and resounding jam have put the Ravens on the scoreboard first." Mouth spoke into the microphone, reaching it over to Jimmy to get his commentary. Jimmy seemed lost in thought and Mouth brought the mic back as the Wildcats started to bring the ball down the court.