Diane grits her teeth and shoves me. “Fuck you, Kennedy. We’re not all whores like you.”
I bring my lips to her ear and whisper, “I’ve seen the guyyou’re currently dating. I’ve also seen photos of him with other women. How pathetic that you’re satisfied being second best. Do you see the giant, blond, hot pro football player sitting over there in my jersey?” I motion my head toward Daylen.
She turns her head and looks at him.
I continue to whisper, “Yes, that one. He fucked my brains out all morning. For hours. I might be a whore, but I’m a whore who had a dozen orgasms from that big-dicked stud before I came to the stadium today. And he liked it so much that he’s wearing my jersey. He’s not out with another woman. In fact, I can guarantee you that you won’t see him with anyone else for the foreseeable future because unlike you, I know how to keep my man satisfied.”
As if sensing what’s going on, Daylen brings his index and middle fingers to his mouth in a V shape and then flicks his tongue through them suggestively.
I smile at him, and he winks back at me.
“Enjoy your shitty lays, Diane. It shows in the way you play.”
I wave at her innocently just as Coach Lakshmi calls us into our pregame huddle. If looks could kill, Diane would kill me right now. It seems I’ve struck a chord. My hours of stalking her on social media are paying off today.
Palmer bumps my hip with hers. “Thank you. What did you whisper to her?”
I shrug. “Just a little friendly chatter among competitors.”
She giggles. “I doubt it was very friendly.”
Nope, it wasn’t friendly at all. Fuck Diane. She’s been a thorn in my side for years. She used to play for another team, but now she plays for my old team out of New York. They traded for her when they released me. Yes, I dislike her because of that, but no one mistreats Sulley more than her. She’s had a tongue-lashing coming for a long time, and I did my homework to prepare for it.
The first half of the game is a little shaky. Sulley, Palmer, and I are all a bit off. I know why I can’t move properly. I wonderwhat their excuses are. It doesn’t help that my fake-as-fuck mother is acting like a schoolgirl, touching and laughing with her boyfriend while my brother is obviously suffering.
And then I saw some random girl flirting with Daylen. I don’t know why it bothered me, but it did. It’s not like he paid her much attention.
By the second half, we get it together and start working well as a team. Diane can’t handle it and starts pushing Sulley around and getting in her ear about how overrated she is. She’s giving Sulley hard elbows every damn time she touches the ball. It’s driving me nuts.
The refs are useless, failing to call any fouls on her. They’re supposed to protect us from this kind of thing, not turn a blind eye.
At some point, Layla is dribbling down the court. Diane strips her of the ball and starts moving toward their basket. As is often the case when an opposing player is about to go in for an easy basket, Sulley hustles and wraps her arms around Diane before she can score, taking her to the ground for a hard foul.
Diane goes absolutely berserk, popping up and putting her nose right in Sulley’s face while screaming obscenities at her.
Per normal for Sulley, she doesn’t engage, turns around, and starts walking away. Diane’s eyes widen in rage at the sight of Sulley ignoring her. There’s something to be said about the way Sulley handles herself. If their words and actions are getting to her, she certainly never lets on. She’s always cool as a cucumber. I think that pisses off our opponents even more.
Once Sulley has walked about ten feet from Diane, I see the moment Diane snaps and she begins to charge at Sulley.
Fuck that. I try to put my body between Diane’s and Sulley’s, but Diane doesn’t stop. I’m not exactly sure what comes over me except a feeling of complete and total protectiveness over my best friend. When Diane doesn’t alter course, I pull my fist back and pop her right in the nose.
I swear I didn’t mean for it to be as hard as it was. I didn’t mean to knock her out cold and very obviously break her nose.
But I do. And mayhem ensues. Both benches clear as players start to tangle. Every referee is blowing his or her whistle. Players and fans are all screaming. People are throwing things onto the court. It’s madness.
I’m the intended target for most of their players as they thrash at me, grabbing my hair and my jersey. I’m taking elbows left and right. Before I realize it, both my father and Daylen are pulling people away from me.
The next ten minutes are a blur. I get ejected from the game, and I know a big suspension is coming my way. Maybe even worse. Reagan warned me about my behavior. I completely lost control out there today.
Tears are streaming down my face. Fallon wraps her arm around me protectively and escorts me off the court to the locker room. Once the locker room door closes and the buzz of the mayhem is more distant, I fall to my knees and begin sobbing.
Fallon gets down on the ground with me and pulls me into an embrace. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry. You were protecting your teammate.”
I sob out, “Reagan is going to kill me. She told me this was my last chance, and I blew it. She might release me. I may never play ball again.” I suddenly feel like my world is falling apart.
I cry on her shoulder while she caresses my hair. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. We’re not losing you. Everyone loves you. You’re important to this team on and off the court.”
I pull my head up and look at her. “Why are you so nice to me?”
