Longshot (Touchdown Edition)

Chapter 1

"Put it up!" I screamed, as Clarissa drove past both defenders. She released a hook shot over the top of Tree Hastings, our close friend and the biggest guy on campus. Her rainbow arched high above his outstretched arms and passed through the orange rim. Swish! The sweet sound of nothing but net.

Pick-up games---that's what Clarissa and I were reduced to after our final college season. Of course, these weren't just ordinary pick-up games. We managed to get a few guys we were friends with to play two-on-two against us. The guys were a few shades shy of great, but what they lacked in talent they made up for with size.

"Shoot!" Clarissa and I bellowed, trying to rattle Rob Coker, who was standing at the top of the key. He always dribbled between his legs for no reason and was constantly smiling at us. I slapped the ball away from him, "Get real, Rob." Not only did he think he had a chance at beating us, but he would ask me out after almost every game.

I put up a short jumper that kissed off the glass and dropped through the hoop. "Twenty-six, all!" I called out.

Rob was still talking trash, "Is that all you've got, Brit?" He dribbled right toward me shifting left at the last minute, expecting to leave me flatfooted in his wake. But I anticipated him and snatched the ball.

When I got back to the three-point line I stopped. Rob's momentum had him jumping past me, and I calmly flipped one toward the basket, nothing but net.

"That's three, Robbie."

"That's luck, Brit."

"That's game, guys," Clarissa laughed. "Good thing too, 'cause I'm getting pretty hungry."

When we played against the guys, the prize was always dinner. "I think I feel like burgers tonight," I taunted Rob and Tree from the top of the three-point line, shooting one more swish and looking over at Rob. "I guess that was luck, too." I knew how to handle these guys. I'd grown up with an older brother and played plenty of basketball against the boys.

It was early April, March Madness was long forgotten, and the World University Games in Mexico City still a pleasant memory. I moved like a zombie. Today was the day that I would find out about the Olympic trials and I'd been nervous since I awoke that morning.

After four years as a point guard for the Shooting Stars, I was getting ready to leave the University of Northern Virginia. What was next---I had no idea. Although my teammates all seemed to have their engines revving for the future, I was stuck in neutral. Ming was slated to begin graduate school at Long Island State and Andrea was getting married to Cliff Lang, her high school sweetheart. Clarissa was headed to the WNBA and the Milwaukee Score, while most of the other girls had another year or two left of school.

I was a twenty-two-year-old, five-foot-six-inch point guard who hadn't been drafted. My jumper from the top of the key was great, you could take it to the bank, but it wasn't enough to impress pro scouts. Still, I had hope. I was going to try out for a WNBA team even if they didn't have the foresight to draft me.

I packed up my stuff and left the gym, heading back to the dorms to pick up my camera for a class later that day. Clarissa stuck around the gym to try and convince Coach Hollins to let her in on who'd been invited to Olympic tryouts.

I walked out into the mild April air. A soft breeze was blowing. The yellow daffodils and purple crocus were springing up underfoot, making the air smell sweet. The dogwood trees were budding and robins were singing. I breathed in deep. I love spring, I thought. Actually, I could never decide if it was spring or fall that was my favorite. Summer definitely was not. I spent most of my summers working or training at one basketball camp or another. I still get tired just thinking about all the laps I ran in the August heat. As for winter, well, winter was game time. Or used to be, anyway. I wondered what I would be doing during the rest of the winters of my life. I hoped I'd be playing basketball somewhere.

While on campus, I bounced a ball everywhere I went. The more I dribbled, the better my handle was. As a point guard, your ability to dribble the ball is everything. You have to be in total control or your entire team will crumble. You're the leader on the floor, the eyes, ears, and heart of your team. This was what I loved about playing point guard: the choices I made on every play dictated the game. If I wanted to run, we ran. If I slowed it down, we'd dig in our heels and bang inside. I was the captain, the lead singer, the quarterback, the pilot, the pitcher, the---

"Brittany, wait up!" A voice came from behind me, breaking my thought.

I slowed my dribble and saw Clarissa racing up the walk to catch me. "I got the word on tryouts," she shouted with a new burst of adrenaline. "Los Angeles! Middle of June!" My heart was in my throat. Knowing where the tryouts were to be held was only half the battle. In order to try out for the United States Olympic team, a player had to be specifically asked to attend the trials. Though I was sure Clarissa would be invited, I doubted that I would. I wasn't even drafted by a pro team, so being chosen to represent my country was a long shot.

"Come on," Clarissa beamed, tugging at my arm. "Coach has the list."

We raced back to the gym, heading for the locker room and the invite list. Coach Hollins was standing in her office holding the paper above her head as a group of us begged her for a peek. Clarissa, six-feet-three-inches tall and very strong, had no trouble jerking the list from Coach's hands and scanning it quickly. She was always one to confront things head on. Me, I wanted it so badly that I was afraid to look.

"We're in." Clarissa shouted, giving me a hug.

"We?" I said, looking at her like she was crazy.

"We're going to LA!" she yelled, shaking her head so that the bright purple beads braided into her dark hair clattered and sparkled under the hot fluorescent lights. I clumsily dropped the basketball and it fell right on my toe. Clarissa read, "Los Angeles, California, June 15, to try out for," she paused for emphasis, and ended up screaming, "the United States Olympic Basketball Team!"

I couldn't believe my ears and I snatched the list away to see for myself. Sure enough, there I was---Brittany Bristol, Northern Virginia.

"Who else made it?" Clarissa asked, looking over my shoulder. "Starling!" she gasped in mock surprise. I nodded. Sherry Sterling, my biggest rival since high school, would be trying out for the same guard position as I would. Clarissa was my closest friend, but even she couldn't resist a cackle of amusement. "Better watch the room assignments, Brit, old Starling'll be after you."

We called Sherry Sterling "Starling" because the UNV campus had been plagued by a flock of the pesky, pitch-black birds the fall of our junior year. Everything the groundskeepers did to discourage them would entice more of them to come. They were everywhere. Finally, the birds got to be a big joke. The student council showed that old Alfred Hitchcock movie The Birds, getting a bunch of guys to dress up in some borrowed mascot costumes. It was actually really funny, and the starlings got blamed for everything bad that happened on campus.

So when Sherry showed up on the court and they called out her name "Sherry Sterling," the name Starling was just a natural. It helped that she had long, dark hair, too. I suppose you could say she was pretty but I disliked her, so it would have been hard for me to admit it. On the court, Sherry would stoop to any dirty trick in the book. There was no reason for it either because she was a really good player. She had the best three-point shot in women's college basketball. But still, Sherry played her games. Like faking an injury the minute the momentum swung against her team, or tripping a player as she drove toward the basket. That kind of thing got to all of us, but most of all to me. It was probably because I'd known her the longest. I had to put up with Sherry in high school when she played for our big cross-town rival, Shenandoah.

And then there was the matter of Brian, my brother Eric's best friend. I adored Brian from the time I could do nothing but tag along after them. By junior year, he was the great love of my life---not that he knew this, mind you. I was nothing more than Eric's kid sister to him.

I was brought back from my daydreaming again by Clarissa, "Time to celebrate, Brit."

I left Starling and Brian in the back of my head and sat down at a long wooden table in Everett Hall, the cafeteria I'd been eating in for the past four years. Clarissa and I were going to be trying out for a spot on the Olympic team and at least fifteen others joined in the celebration. The University of 'Northern Virginia is,a small school about twenty-five miles outside of Washington, D.C., not too far from Oak Grove, Virginia, where I grew up. I looked at a lot of schools before I decided on UNV, but it all came down to a great art program, a basketball team that I hoped needed my help, and the not-too-shabby academic scholarship they offered me. I've never been sorry. I've had a lot of great times, some trying times, and I've grown up a lot here. That happens no matter what, I suppose, but UNV was the place where it happened to me.

We ordered The Special: twelve scoops of different kinds of ice cream smothered in hot fudge. With the trials coming up in less than two months, we'd have to take our training to a new level. This was our last big splurge and we decided to make it a good one. Jen and Andrea hovered over our shoulders on one side, and Tree reached over the top of everyone's head to swipe large dollops of chunky cherry. Rob nudged in so close he nearly knocked me off my stool.

I spaced out while everyone around me talked and ate. I began to focus on the particulars. The trials would be held at Los Angeles State. The thought of traveling cross-country to Los Angeles was exciting in itself. As far as I could tell, the biggest downside was the group of coaches making selections. There were three. One I knew only by reputation and one coached a team we played often. What really gave me butterflies was the third member of the selection team. She was the head coach of Northern California State, the team that had beaten us in the final game of my college career. She was a terrific strategist and motivator, having devised a plan that held our team to its lowest point total of the season. But (and this was a big but), there was the matter of the three players on her own team invited to the trials. She had to feel some allegiance to "her" girls. How could I possibly have a chance?

"Wake up, Brit!" Clarissa hit me on the wrist with her spoon. "Strawberry's about gone."

I dug back into The Special quickly. Strawberry ice cream was my favorite, just as Clarissa's was vanilla. And like good buddies, we looked out for one another. Looking back, it's pretty amazing that we ended up best friends, because we certainly didn't start out that way at UNV. I came in, hoping to be on the team. Clarissa came in, expecting to be the star. Or at least that's what we all thought. It took her a long time to warm up to people when she first came here.

We've always been very different, especially on the basketball court. Clarissa is tall. She plays center and probably has the best hook shot of any player on earth, college or pro, male or female. That hook brought us a lot of success over the past couple of years. I'm a little point guard, a playmaker, more than a pure shooter. I don't have the size to play forward and I don't have much speed or a wide variety of shots, either. In fact, people who don't know me are always amazed when they find out I'm a basketball player.

My one great beauty is my long reddish-blonde hair. It took me a while to grow it out just perfectly, but I finally got it right during my junior year. I don't mean to suggest that I'm a cover girl, but guys are surprised to learn that I'm an athlete. (Why do they always think cute girls can't play sports?)

Basketball-wise, what I really have going for me is what Coach says, I "keep my head in the game." And hey, I'm a good foul shooter, an underappreciated skill not to be dismissed. I've held the school record, the conference record, and believe it or not, this year, I had the NCAA record.

Of course, my brother Eric claims he and Brian ought to get the credit, because of all the years they let me practice with them. If I missed a foul shot, they wouldn't let me touch the ball for the next five minutes. They took turns driving at the basket and I had to try and stop them. In the beginning, I think it was their way of trying to get rid of me. But I was too stubborn for that. In the end, I learned how to shoot from the free-throw line and I got pretty good at defending.

"Split the mint chip with me," Clarissa broke into my thoughts again. "We'll be back to training after this."

"Does that mean we can't even treat ourselves after exams?" I asked.

Clarissa shook her head firmly. "And not after graduation, either."

I moaned, beginning to think that maybe we weren't so lucky after all.

Jen, our junior forward, banged her spoon on the table. "Get with the program, Brit. The rest of us are counting on y'all. This is the Olympics."

"Yeah," agreed Leesha, "you make the team, we'll treat you to all the ice cream you can eat."

"I'd sell my soul for a chance like this." Jen added, sneaking a bite of vanilla when Clarissa wasn't looking.

"You told me last week that you'd sell your soul for a date with Jack Redman." Clarissa laughed. "Your soul's cheap, girl."

I glanced at my watch and wiped away my smile. "I've got to run. Photography class." I stood and Leesha thrust a basketball at me. "Don't waste time, Brit, dribble everywhere."

I hesitated, but Clarissa piped up quickly, "You know Starling's dribbling somewhere right now." How could I argue with them? She probably was. I took the ball and dutifully bounced my way across campus toward Patriot Hall, the fine arts building. During my four years at UNV, I probably spent as much time there as I did in Hamilton Gym. I came here as a freshman, and soon decided I'd be a great painter like Georgia O'Keeffe. Fascinated with those big, glorious flowers that filled her canvases, I spent hours copying her works and drew hundreds of flowers myself.

After a month or so, my drawing teacher recommended I try working from photographs since most of my early drawings lacked something. OK, they stunk. Anyway, I thought this was a pretty good idea since I had a photography requirement to fulfill anyway. Between the UNV campus and a couple of historic houses in the area that had extensive gardens, I found a lot of flowers to photograph. In the end, I discovered it was photography, and not flowers or painting that I really loved. It's funny how life happens that way sometimes.

Just when you think you've figured out what you want, you find out what you really want by accident. Look at all those hours I spent as a kid, playing basketball with Eric and Brian, just to be included, just to make them notice me. Who would have guessed I'd end up liking it so much?

I walked through the "quad," a big concrete square with a fountain in the center. We'd always toss in change when we passed to make a wish. I smiled, remembering when Clarissa, Ming, Jen, and I celebrated the end of winter exams by putting detergent in the fountain. Bubbles everywhere for days. When I reached the fountain I searched my pockets for coins. The only coin I had was my lucky Washington State quarter.

There was no way I could throw that one away. It had been bringing me good luck since high school. Oh well, what more could I wish for today anyway?

I took the shortcut to Patriot Hall, veering around the library and past Wilson North, my freshman dorm. There was a window opened on the second floor and I heard music coming from inside. Oh no, not the piano, I thought, kicking a rock. I stopped bouncing the ball and hurried down the stone walk. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. If there's one thing I had enough of when I was a kid, it was the piano.