Outside of the Hec Edmundson Arena Just a few minutes earlier...
"This place felt smaller when me and mom walked through for the On-Campus tour, Gibby." Freddie felt like Hyperventilating, his mind filled with a number of disconcerting thoughts.
For one thing, it's about one hundred degrees in Seattle in the middle of July, and its only 11 in the morning. He can't seem to figure out why he decided to wear a jersey without an undershirt, he hates the feel of sweat. It just makes him feel... Yucky. And, perhaps being the biggest distraction of them all, Samantha Puckett hadn't spoken to him at all in the weeks leading up to this. He hasn't received a single phone call from her, not even a text. He wouldn't be as worried if this was the day she went off to Volleyball Camp somewhere up in the northern area of Washington.
Nope. That's tomorrow.
After a week of not hearing from her, his paranoia had reached an all time high. If he wasn't thinking about basketball, or trying to prepare for his upcoming freshman year in college, he'd be trying to figure out what Sam's next move would be. When he would see Carly alone or with Gibby at the Groovy Smoothie, with Sam was nowhere to be found, he'd immediately become suspicious. He would be worried about Sam, on occasion, but then, before they would leave Carly would order a Blueberry Blitz to go for Sam. Still, he'd heard nothing from her until the night before his tryouts. He received a lone text from the Blonde Headed Demon.
All it said was... "gl"
Two letters.
You see, had anyone else sent those two letters, he would know that it meant good luck. However, with his paranoia running amuck, combined with the nerves of what lies ahead for him has his mind humming with all kinds of possibilities. Was it, really, 'Good luck'… or could it mean 'Go Loser'… or even 'goat licker'? No, that's a little extreme… even for Sam… right? She had called him worse names… right?
His thoughts were running at a pace of a mile a minute. Pull it together Freddie.
His thoughts needed to be focused, solely, on the matter at hand. This is a huge part of his development into the player he wants to be… the person that he wants to be, and towards winning this God forsaken bet. He will have to try his hardest, and be at his best, or it will be the end of him.
"Look Freddie, we prepared for this day for so long. You must know that you can do this." Gibby has been there for him throughout this entire ordeal, since coming back from New York.
It also helped Gibby as he was about to get into Training Camp with the coaches. This was becoming very real for the both of them. Even Gibby was a little unnerved as the day of training camp drew near. Camp would start two days after tryouts.
"You don't understand Gibby," Freddie said feeling the quiver in his voice. "I don't think I can do this." He was about to turn around to run back to his dorm, but Gibby took him by the collar and dragged him to the entrance of the arena.
"Dude! You see this!" Gibby pulled up his shirt and the color red was embedded in his skin. "This is over two weeks of runs and practice. This is the result of me getting you ready and showing you what try-outs are going to be like… all… for… you!" Gibby punctuated the end of his sentence by poking Freddie in the chest.
Freddie countered "But you should have put a shirt on you knew it was gonna be 100 degrees all week..."
"I DON'T DO SHIRTS! IM GIBBY!" He retorted and pushed Freddie through the arena entrance, following behind him.
"Gibby, understand this, I can't thank you enough for your help this week. For real. Do you know what I have been through this week?"
"Freddie," Gibby took a breath. "You understand that Sam ignoring you isn't some kinda mind game. You know that she is what she is."
"No, you see, that's where she has you all fooled. To you she just looks like your average troublemaker, but What she truly is, is a egotistical psychopath that I can't seem to get out of my mind, even when she is not around!"
"Sounds to me like you like her, dude" Gibby puts up a ghost of a smirk.
"HA!" Freddie says as he walks away towards the Arena's entrance and Gibby grabs him by the collar and reigns him back in.
"Look dude YOU are going to try-outs and you're gonna work your butt off like you've been doing the past few weeks! You want to win this bet don't you?"
"Yes, I do. But..." Gibby had received all of the confirmation he needed. He grabbed Freddie by the collar once more and proceeded to drag him to the practice court.
As a Game of twenty-one was in progress on the practice courts, the doors flew open with a loud bang. Rudy and Jerome look up towards the sound and watch as Gibby drags Freddie through the doors.
Rudy holds the ball and gestures towards the door with a slight chuckle, "Hey, check that out."
Jerome gives a quick nod as they observe Freddie yelling something that is unintelligible and it almost seems like he's… Crying? Gibby gives a quick smile and wave and looks towards the doors towards the locker rooms. The doors open and close. Gibby yells to Freddie from the other side of the doors, "AW, MAN UP!" Gibby storms through the doors to retrieve Freddie.
Jerome and Rudy look at each other and back towards the double doors that Gibby and Freddie went through. "Remember those days?" Rudy commented.
"Yep" Jerome agrees.
They suddenly burst out laughing. "NOOBS!" they both say and go back to finish the game.
It was fifteen minutes later and Gibby and Freddie were standing outside of the visiting locker rooms Freddie in his purple basketball jersey and shorts. He has black and white Air Jordan sneakers. They had ten minutes to kill before practice started. The terror was apparent in Freddie's eyes. This was it for him. A month and a half of practice and pain and humiliation all comes down to this. It was obvious what was ahead. And yet…
He still didn't know if he wanted to do this.
"I need you to snap out of it. NOW!" Gibby yelled into his right ear giving Freddie's mind the jump he needed to get out of his negative thoughts.
"Sorry," Freddie mumbled.
"This is it, you should go out there and get some time to shoot around, I already helped you with stretching and all that. So..." Said Gibby.
It's so good to have a friend like Gibby. Freddie thought. He's been around from the beginning and it felt like he is the brother I never had. I am so lucky to have a great friend that will be there for me no matter...
"So I wish you luck and see you later at the Groovy Smoothie, buddy" Those words came so rapidly to Freddie's ears he felt like he was shot.
"Wait! Where your going man?" Freddie asked.
"Important business… tried to get out of it but couldn't… but you don't need me! You will be fine man… remember, no matter what, I believe in you dude!" And gone Gibby was as he walked quickly towards the same double doors
Shirtless turncoat bastard. Freddie, now, found himself alone. He's standing outside of the visitor's locker rooms... This was going to be a very long day...
Freddie looked around at the number of people who had gathered in the gym. He counted fourteen others. He silently wondered to himself how many open spots there were. These thoughts were dismissed. It didn't matter how many were open; all that mattered was that he got one of them.
Freddie had been in the gym for around ten minutes, and was currently in the midst of a shoot around. While waiting for the ball he noticed the gym doors open and close and observed three men enter the room in what appeared to be matching tracksuits, Freddie assumed them to be the coaches. He watched as the three made their way to center court. The other students in the gym took notice as well and the dribbling stopped leaving behind an eerie silence that only seemed to highlight the coaches' walk through the gym.
Freddie made his own observations of the three newcomers. One was a tall man who wore a whistle around his neck. Another man, whom also wore a whistle, also carried a clipboard. Freddie also took notice of the third guy. He seemed to be younger than the other two, yet, he also carried a clipboard. Freddie noticed, however, that he was devoid of a whistle. Before Freddie could ponder the third person any further a whistle sounded and his attention was drawn to the tall man who was now at center court.
"Alright! Everyone who's here for tryouts, move to the far end of the court, and form two lines! Everyone else leave!" at the end of the proclamation, The sounds of the basketballs hitting the hard wood could be heard and Freddie spun around to watch as the players ran to the end of the court where they were instructed. Freddie tried to hustle to the other side.
Freddie, however, was too late and ended up at the head of the line. Before he had a chance to bemoan his awful luck, the tall man started talking again in a booming voice, "Gentlemen, welcome!" The man surveyed the two lines, "These are the tryouts for the, University of Washington Huskies, Men's Basketball team!" He turned to his left, "This is coach Daniels! He's your assistant coach!" He turned to his right, "and This is Coach Haskins... and while he is a student... you will address him as if he were a part of the staff!" he turned once again to face the kids who were lined up at the base line, "And I am your head coach: Coach Romar! Are there any questions!"
Freddie had a multitude of questions but before he could raise his hand, coach Romar continued talking, "Good! Now, we are going to start with lay-up drills!"
"What's a lay-up?" The squeaky voice came from a skinny kid who was at the back of the line to Freddie's right.
Coach Romar quickly tried to mask his exasperation at the question. "A lay-up is the most basic shot in basketball! I'll have Coach Haskins demonstrate!" The man to the coach's right placed his clipboard on the floor and jogged to the opposite end of the basketball court and kicked a number of the basketballs off to the side. When there was one basketball remaining, he picked it up and walked to center court while dribbling the ball. Upon reaching center court he stopped and rested the ball between his hip and his forearm.
Coach Romar turned to face the prospective players and continued. "You start by dribbling the ball up the court on either side of the goal!" Coach Haskins started to demonstrate as coach Romar started talking, "Once you're directly under the goal you'll jump off with the foot which corresponds with which side of the goal you are on, while the ball will should be in the hand which is opposite of the side of the goal which you are on. Once you are in the air you'll bank the basketball off of the backboard and into the basket!"
Freddie was absolutely flabbergasted. He couldn't even begin to process the information that he was given. Was this really the most basic shot in all of basketball? If these were the basics, then what would it be like when they reached the hard stuff? It wasn't until now that he had started to really think that he may have been in over his head.
Why… Why did he ever make that stupid bet in the first place?
His head shaking palms sweating mumbles of "Why" in under his breath and those questions was embedded in his mind...
Why would Gibby leave me alone like this...
Why didn't we go over this in practice... or did we?
Why does Sam always seem to invade my mind.
Why did she have to do it this week…
Why was she able to do it… even when she WASN'T there!
WHY? WHY? WHY? WH...
And before he could even think another 'why' the basketball suddenly dropped in his clammy hands...
It was go time.
He made a sprint out towards the basket dribbling the ball quickly in his right hand.
Running down the court, with the ball still dribbling in his hand he stares intently at the hoop with one thought running through his head...
What I am supposed to do next?
His breathing is shallow. Confusion is ingrained in his eyes as they dart left and right. He struggles to think of what to do next. His shallow breathing increases to hyperventilating. He's never felt more confused and unnerved in his life...
But he knows that he has to, at least, look like he knows what he is doing. So when he is at, what he hoped was, the launching point; just past the free throw line, instead of planting his left foot and and launching towards the basket to go for the lay-up...
He switches the ball to his left hand, plants his right foot, and fires a hook shot that...
THUMP!
Hits the backboard.
The ball bounces off of the backboard right back at him. He catches it and decides to go towards the right. Freddie performs an underhand motion with the ball and it hits the under the right side of the rim... he picks it up takes a quick jumper and watches as it goes in through the hoop... He retrieves the ball, dribbles back to the other end of the court, and passes towards the next player in line as he reaches the starting line of the drill...
Freddie, with a face that was beet-red with embarrassment, sees almost every person in the room holding back their laugher, or, even worse, just staring at him. His only friend seems to be the floor as he continues staring at it throughout the rest of the drill...
Things are NOT going as planned. It's just been one failed drill after another.
There was the passing drill, where he could seem to pass to everyone and everything: the wall that is behind the player in front of him, the coach that is beside the other players, the other player's shoes, knees, and face… he made every pass except the one he was supposed to be making.
The shooting drill didn't go as bad. He was doing well with the close and mid-ranged shots. He even made some 3 pointers. However, when he missed...
THUMP! The ball goes to the backstop...
THUMP! The ball ends up in the bleachers...
THUMP! The ball ends up ricocheting off of the back of a players head as he was doing Free Throw drills...
He couldn't feel any worse. He was glad that the floor didn't have eyes because that is the only thing he's been looking at throughout these tryouts...
The only thing he could feel, somewhat, good about was completing suicides; sprinting short to long distances across the practice courts. However, by the end, he could barely stand and he knew there was more to come...
After another thirty minutes of drills Freddie hears the whistle, for break time, Freddie is sitting on the wall drinking Sporterade by the cooler. He couldn't believe how much of his body felt like was on fire. He doesn't even know if he can get up. He face couldn't be any redder and his muscles feel so heavy that they'd, basically, become deadweight. He'd just regained his breath from the last drill he had to do.
As he lifts his cup to sip on the cold concoction of electrolytes, he sees Jerome right in front of him staring intently.
I'm surprised he didn't laugh at me... Freddie thinks, but then he remembers that the day is not over... Yet.
But he knows what he lost grasp of, his micro chances of making this team were, if not gone, fading in the wind. His mind wasn't in it. It never was. Not at the beginning of practice. Not the night before. Not at the start of the week. It was then that he realized.
She did this to me. By giving me that message, she knew that I would think about the subliminal message that laid beneath the text. She knew how much I would think about it, and how everything that she's done (or hasn't in her case) would just take over my mind. She knew how to screw with my head in any way shape and form...
"THAT INCARNATION OF SATAN!"
The whole gym stopped and looked at him in stunned silence as they heard Freddie's voice boomed throughout the indoor court.
All Freddie could do was groan and put bury his face in his hands. The sun couldn't match the heat radiating in Freddie's cheeks at that point.
The remainder of practice went as you'd expect. He fell down… a lot. He missed passes… a lot. He dropped the ball… a lot.
He'd embarrassed himself more today than Sam ever had in high school. And he did a better job of it.
At the sound of the whistle the students lined up again. They brief silence before Coach Romar spoke seemed to last an eternity.
Finally his voice was heard as It boomed throughout the gym. "Ok! That'll do for today! I'll post a list in the gym for those of you who made the first cut some time tomorrow! Thanks to all of you who tried out. If you made the cut, I'll see you on Wednesday. If you didn't make it, you can always try again next year!"
With those words the three coaches turned to leave the gym. The other students started to talk amongst themselves. Freddie just wanted to leave that place as quickly as possible. He went to the locker room and packed his gym bag and sent a text to Gibby saying that he would skip the Groovy Smoothie today.
After this hectic day he just wanted to go to his room and be alone… or dead… at this point he didn't care which. It was 7 o'clock in the afternoon. When he reached his room his phone vibrated.
He looked at the display and saw that the message was from Sam. Yeah right. He pressed end and placed his phone on the nightstand next to his bed. About ten minutes later his phone vibrated again. He checked it again and saw that it was Sam… again.
Why's she so chatty now?
He shook his head and pushed his phone to the floor. It vibrated again five minutes later. He releases a frustrated groan and gives his phone one last look.
It's Sam… again. Can't I just one day? She's already accomplished her goal? What more could she possibly want?
He yanks his bed sheets and comforters off of his bed and proceeds to bury the vibrating phone under them.
You've won, Puckett. He lays on his bed and turns his back to the phone. Not even looking back when he hears the soft buzz of his vibrating phone. I'm done.
He finally drifted off to a restless sleep, dreading the inevitable day, when he'd be forced to face Samantha Puckett again.
Author's Note: Man Sorry for the long wait but I hope you guys enjoy this chapter of IWBSM, in the Next week Chapter 11 should come out in light of the NCAA Mens Final Four in Houston! GO VCU! So you guys enjoy this and i hope you Read and Review. Thank you.
P.S. Stay reading my friends.