Ellen Hartman - The Long Shot

“Because you, my brother, need three hundred hours of community service.” Deacon tossed the ball through the hoop, admiring the perfect swish. “And Ms. Julia Bradley needs a coach. It’s a perfect fit.”

CHAPTER THREE

SHE CALLED A team meeting after school. She was expecting Deacon later that day, but wasn’t going to tell the girls about him yet. For one thing, she still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to her proposal. The way he said yes so quickly was odd because she knew he’d been asked to help before and he’d always refused. Second, there was the little matter of her allowing him to believe he was coaching the boys. When he found out about the girls, would he even stay? She felt queasy when she let herself imagine that he might leave—once again, she’d painted herself into a corner with her tendency toward brinksmanship.

The most important reason she hadn’t told the team was that she didn’t want to risk having Ty find out the Basketball Brothers were coming and then doing something to either sabotage their work for her team or co-opt them for the boys’ team. She slipped the Fallons’ district paperwork through under the catchall bucket for volunteers in the mentoring program. They weren’t getting paid, so there was no requirement for her to consult with Ty about hiring them.

In the couple days since she and the brothers had spoken on the phone, the two Fallons had taken on a superhero-duo mystique in her mind. She would do her best not to refer to them out loud as the Basketball Brothers, and in return, they would rescue her program, save her sanity and help her put Ty Chambers and the boosters in their place.

Good thing Deacon Fallon was used to living up to high expectations.

Once the girls were gathered on the bleachers, she updated them about the budget cuts and then she told them about the bet. They were utterly silent for a few seconds. The only sound in the gym was the rhythmic pounding of a basketball; Max Wright was shooting alone at the other end of the court. He’d been cut from the boys’ team and she’d invited him to practice with her girls, where the team philosophy didn’t allow cuts. So far he hadn’t joined them. He showed up in the gym every afternoon, but kept to himself.

Before she finished outlining the terms of the bet, Iris and Tali were off the bleachers and heading for the door, Tali’s little brothers, Trey and Shawn, trailing after her.

“Stop,” Julia said. “Where are you going?”

Tali tightened her thumbs on the cords of the gym bag she had over her shoulders. “Look, Ms. Bradley, we suck. We lost every game last year. Doing this bet? It’s like we’re asking everyone to laugh at us.”

Iris nodded. “We appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s useless. Nobody at this school cares about anything except the boys’ team.”

“As I told you, I have no intention of letting them disband our team. You girls focus on having a fantastic year. I’ll manage the rest.”

“Fantastic? How? We don’t have one thing you need for a basketball team, including a coach who knows how to coach.” That was Miri. A senior, she’d been on the team since her freshman year. “Sorry, Coach.”

Julia would have to consult her records to be sure, but even without looking, she wouldn’t hesitate to bet Miri hadn’t scored a single point in any of her three previous years. Julia didn’t mention this.

“I’m more than aware of my deficiencies as a coach.”

Cora Turner snorted and Miri smiled at her knowingly.

“I believe I have found an assistant who is more than qualified to handle the basketball-specific parts of the job.” If he shows up, that is. If he stays.

“What parts of being a basketball coach aren’t basketball-specific?” Tali’s posture was challenging.

If Julia hadn’t been certain it would lead to more wrangling, she would have made a list, starting with letting Tali’s little brothers hang around practice every day after the elementary school got out so they weren’t home watching TV. Setting up movie night. Choosing the audio books they listened to on the bus. Making sure the uniforms arrived on time and fit, even if some of the girls weren’t exactly built for speed. Talking to the players. Giving structure to their days. Being there in case they wanted an adult to consult with—during her time at Milton more than one basketball player had come to her about things that mattered. She was necessary. The team was necessary. The only thing that had changed this year was that winning, God help them, was also necessary.

“You understand what our team is about, Tali. Responsibility, partnership, setting goals and meeting them. We’re just adding a resource with a basketball background to round things out.”

“You know a basketball coach?” Cora asked.

Tali snorted. “We don’t need a coach—we need a wizard.”

“You think Coach knows Harry Potter?”

“Maybe if you all practiced for real and didn’t spend so much time doing your nails and babysitting, you could actually get better without a wizard,” Max said. “You don’t entirely suck all the time.”

She hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped practicing and drifted over to listen. His blond hair was caught back in a ponytail and a few strands lay plastered against his neck with sweat.

“How would you know, Max?” Tali said. “Last I looked, you got cut from your tryouts.”

“I know more about basketball than any of you.”

“Too bad you’re not on our team, then. On account of you being a boy and all,” Tali retorted.

“Ms. Bradley said I can practice with you if I want to. I’m considering taking her up on it.”

Tali rolled her eyes. “Between you and our new wizard coaches, we’ll be all kinds of gifted this year.”

Julia walked the few steps across the gym so she was next to the girl. Tali, tall and slender, with deep brown eyes, had long, thick hair she refused to put into a ponytail for games. She’d come close to flunking remedial math during her first season on the team, but because she was rostered for a sport, her record was red-flagged early in the marking period and Julia had been able to get her into tutoring to prop her up. Now, starting her junior year, she was firmly in the middle of her grade-level math class. None of that was “basketball-specific,” either, but it was all important.

“You don’t take anything lying down and I respect that. If you hold on to your anger, then you can put it on the court. Can we stick with each other for one more season, all in, no matter what?”

She held her breath while hoping they would respond. Instead Cora nudged Miri, who dropped her backpack and promptly turned red with embarrassment. Tali straightened up and whispered, “Please tell me that’s my new basketball coach.”

Julia looked toward the door and there they were, the Basketball Brothers, tall and handsome and… She did a double take. Which one was Deacon?

The younger one on the left, with his skinny neck and rail-thin body, resembled the kid she remembered. Except that young guy wasn’t Deacon. She knew because his thick, inky hair was styled in an expensive, professionally messy mop that was certainly not done at home with clippers, and she knew for sure because he smiled at her and his grin was cocky and charming in a way Deacon’s never had been. When Deacon had been at Milton, he’d been wound so tight and been so focused on his sport she didn’t think he’d ever smiled. This kid, the younger brother, had obviously grown up in different circumstances.

So Deacon was the other one. The slightly shorter, but sweet-mother-of-grown-up-hotness-what-a-good-looking-guy one. His acne had disappeared; instead a shadow of dark beard roughened his chin. Dark blond layers of silky hair hit the back of his neck, scissoring out at the sides, and shorter layers lay in golden-brown lines across his forehead—completely erasing her memories of his clippered high school haircut. He wore glasses, which was a surprise, but the smart dark frames had a sexy edge and set off his deep blue eyes beautifully.