First thing I do when I get on the bus is head straight to the back. Doubt anyone wants to sit next to me. But to be safe, I take the very last seat, toss my backpack in the one across from me, put my headphones on, and arrange my face to match the mood I should be in.

Not only did Coach give us (really me) a thirty-minute locker-room speech about the need to focus, he made everybody make ten free throws in a row before we could get on the bus to go home. Mind you, it’s a Saturday night, i.e., date night, and it’s still gonna take us another forty-five minutes to get all the way back out to the boonies. Phones have been blowing up. Nya has already texted me twice.

But I’m not worried about any of that. All I want is some private time with Carli. I want to sit back, with no eyes over my shoulders, and find her on IG to make sure she’s okay. Scroll through her pictures and stare at her face.

Josh, our backup small forward, walks up the aisle and eyes the seat across from me that I’ve clearly already claimed with my backpack.

No music playing yet, but I slide the left side of my headphones above my ear. “Nah, that’s me,” I tell him.

“Well, you’re sitting over there. So which one is it?” he asks, hate smeared across his round, red-cheeked face. Dude stays trying to start some shit. He can’t stand me because I took his starting position when I moved out here this year.

It’s too bad for Josh. Heard he’s been praying for a letter from Michigan State. But graduating this year with the playing time he’s been getting, he’ll be lucky if he gets to play at the YMCA. Jokes, but he probably won’t be playing D1.

But what am I supposed to do? I have goals, too. Lofty-ass goals at that. Your boy is trying to be one-and-done.

“Dude, you got all these seats,” I say, floating my extended arm across the width of the rumbling bus. All I need to add is presentiiiing. Thirteen rows, twelve players, two coaches who always share the first row, and one trainer. Josh was the last one to get on the bus. He’d better find the trainer and double up with him.

“But what if I really want that seat?” Josh says with a hard, directed nod of his big head.

A few players look back to see what’s going on.

“You wanna sit beside me that bad, huh?”

Josh shoves his short, curly bangs away from his face. “Not as bad as I wanna kick your ass.”