Work In Progress #4
- Talen
- Mar 23
- 6 min read
Been over a month since the last post. I had this excerpt all typed up and ready to post weeks ago, but I lost track of time. For starters, there was my involvement with the 2nd Annual Black Children's Book Week in Phoenix.
It was an amazing opportunity to meet other authors and read to children. I was scared stiff to read my book out loud but in the end I got applause. There was video taken and if I can ever get a hold of it, I'll post it.
Then, there was this impromptu music festival at the park near me. When I heard Daft Punk being played from my bedroom window I just had to go check this out.
Money well spent. My favorite part was a set on the main stage by an artist named nimino, who made this banger of a song I can't stop listening to.
There was some other stuff including a speed-dating event and a quick appearance at the Game On Expo to dunk my savings to feed my nostalgia. But I've wasted too much time already. Here's the latest excerpt.
Minor spoilers from Book 3.
Friday January 7, 2000
It was the sixth game of the junior varsity basketball season; Washington was taking on Madison High. In the middle of the fourth period, Washington was well on their way to their fifth straight loss. The Parrots, who only had one win in the season, was dominating with a 16 point lead over the Eagles. Though it was a home game, Washington was at a huge disadvantage.
What started as a promising season where Washington was a lock to win the state championship became one that was doomed and almost everyone just wanted it to end already. To start fresh and try again next year. At Game 1, half the Washington High student body, parents, teachers, and staff traveled to the other end of the district to pack the seats. By Game 6, the bleachers were as empty as a debate team match. The only people sitting on Washington’s side was Rob, who was making bank betting against the Eagles, and Shawn Franklin’s most dedicated fans.
Shawn sat on the bench. He leaned forward with his hands held close together as if he were gripping an invisible basketball. His fingers tingled and every muscle in his hands tensed up. Sweat poured down his forehead like a waterfall. It didn’t come from running up and down the court, it came from the stress he felt in the moment. His left foot uncontrollably tapped on the floor at the speed of a mad rabbit.
He watched in anger as his teammates struggled against the Parrots on both offense and defense. He watched Coach Gibbs scream plays on the fly. Nothing helped close the gap in score. No play, no tactic, no formation change worked as effectively as the tried and true strategy of getting the ball in Shawn’s hands at all costs.
Why wasn’t Shawn out on the court snatching victory from the jaws of defeat? Why could he only watch as his teammates and best friends were being dragged up and down the court. Why was he sitting by as Washington not only loses the game but the season? Why hadn’t he leapt from his chair and rallied the few remaining fans in the stands behind him? Because he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to.
Days before the holiday break, he was involved in a huge fight in the hallway. He took the fall for starting the fight thinking he’d get off scot-free because Washington was desperate for any kind of athletic trophy and he was essential to getting one. But the newly promoted Principal Terrell’s leniency ran out by the end of the year. He slapped Shawn with a five-game suspension. When the new vice principal learned of Shawn’s suspension, he wanted to extend it to last the entire season. He wanted to use Shawn as an example that no student, regardless of social, academic, or athletic standing was immune from discipline. Fortunately, Coach Gibbs was able to talk him out of it but only after hours of argument.
Shawn watched everything happening in the gym but heard none of it. He didn’t hear Coach Gibbs shouting at the referee to call a foul when a Madison player shoulder-charged Andre to the ground to steal the ball. He didn’t hear the cries of his fans as they pleaded to let him play. He didn’t hear the Green Wings cheerleaders give it their all in their routines to encourage the team. He didn’t hear Madison’s cheerleaders drown them out after one of their players sunk another three-pointer. All he heard were the toxic thoughts he had for the person he felt was responsible for this very moment and everything that led up to it.
William Moon. William Moon. William. God. Damn. Moon. You took my girl. You took my tooth. You took my momentum. You took my glory. I’m supposed to be out there on that court showing everyone why I’m the next Jordan. Why every D1 school in the country is gonna fight over me like every girl in the hallway does. But nah, here I am sitting on the sidelines like some fourth string scrub. All because of your ass.
Those very thoughts, word-for-word, repeated in Shawn’s head for weeks. During the holidays with his aunt Leticia. At practice drills and when he played pickup games at his neighborhood court until late hours of the night. In Humanities class as he did everything in his power to avoid eye contact with his classmate Ashley. While doing reps in the school’s weight room. In the hallways as his fangirls followed closely behind him. When he made donut runs for Coach Gibbs in the morning, and Marissa conveniently popped up on him to try to emotionally manipulate him into getting back with her. During sessions with Mr. Moore, the guidance counselor, which was a condition of the vice principal not extending his suspension. And as the buzzer rang and Madison reigned victorious over Washington.
Those thoughts repeated in the locker room after the game where Coach Gibbs assured the beaten team that they’d turn it around next game. The thoughts repeated as Shawn showered with his head down in defeat. And remained as Shawn stood on the court holding a basketball long after everyone else left and the janitor started cleaning. He took shots from various positions and only missed a few. Motivated by his malicious thoughts, he showed no signs of slowing down; he could’ve kept shooting all night. That was until he stood at the free throw line. Coach Gibbs came up to Shawn and put his hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop shooting, but only for a second.
Coach Gibbs told Shawn, “That’s five games. Next week against Cleveland, you’re in the starting five.”
Shawn didn’t say anything. He took a shot and it went in perfectly. He went and picked up the ball and came back to the free throw line.
Coach Gibbs continued, “We’re down but we’re not out. We can still make it to state, but one more loss and we won’t even be in the playoffs.”
Shawn kept quiet. He took more shots, he missed none.
“Team’s counting on you, Shawn. Whole school’s counting on you. I’m counting on you.”
Coach Gibbs left Shawn to keep taking shots. He didn’t want to put any more pressure on Shawn than he already did. Little did the coach know, Shawn didn’t hear anything he said. Shawn already knew what was on the line and having it being told to him didn’t motivate him to turn the season around. No, for the rest of the season, he’d be fueled solely by revenge. Before taking his last shot, Shawn gripped the ball tightly with both hands. He imagined that the ball was Will’s head and he was squeezing the blood out of it like juice from an orange. He locked his eyes squarely on the hoop. A new set of thoughts occupied his mind.
William Moon, I can’t wait. I can’t wait to win that JV Championship ring. I’m going to get them to make you sit in the front row when they name me MVP. And since Ashley wants to choose you over me, I’ll have her sitting right next to you. So she can’t look away when I make you kiss the ring in front of the whole damn school.
Shawn jumped and violently shot the ball. It went into the net cleanly, and the sound of the net swishing echoed all the way to the other end of the court. Falling from the net, the ball bounced on the floor a few times. Shawn didn’t go to pick it up. Instead, he stood at the free throw line. He clenched his fists; his fingernails dug deep into his palms and they shook with fury. One by one, the overhead lights turned off, leaving Shawn in a gym as dark as his thoughts.
I have the next excerpt almost ready, and a ton of notes jotted down for a lot more writing. My plan is to hunker down and get a ton of writing done before June.
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