Chapter 4

The squeak of sneakers sounds sharper during practice.

Controlled. Repetitive. Every movement watched.

Isadora stands near the sideline, rolling the ball between her palms, trying to settle into something familiar. Around her, the team moves easily, talking, laughing, slipping into drills like they’ve done this together forever.

She steps into line.

“Alright, let’s go!” Geno calls. “Warmups!”

Balls start bouncing in unison. Layup lines. Form shooting. Passing drills. Simple. Predictable. Safe.

Isadora moves through it without thinking, left, right, finish. Again. Again. Again.

Then, “Dora.”

It lands lightly. Casual.

But it sticks.

She turns just enough to see Paige already moving, already in position like she expects Isadora to be there too.

Isadora nods once.

That’s it.

They shift into half-court sets.

“High pick-and-roll!” Aubrey calls.

Isadora brings the ball up. Paige steps into the screen.

For a second, it almost lines up, like something old trying to resurface.

“Left.”

Isadora goes right. Too quick. Too early. Paige hesitates, then flips the angle, but the defense is already there.

“Reset!” Geno calls.

No reaction from the team. Just movement. Again.

Next rep.

“Corner.”

Isadora cuts. The pass comes before she’s set. It slips past her hands, skidding across the floor.

“Ah,” someone mutters.

“Just timing,” KK says easily from the side. “Y’all good.”

Isadora nods, even though no one’s looking at her.

Again.

“Backdoor.”

She goes. Stops. Goes again. The ball never comes.

“Keep going,” Paige says, quieter this time.

Isadora doesn’t answer.

The drills keep stacking. Nothing looks bad. Nothing looks right. A step off here. A glance missed there.

They don’t collide, they just don’t connect.

“Rust,” Azzi says, shrugging after one of the reps breaks down. “Three years.”

“Yeah,” Aaliyah adds. “It’ll click.”

It sounds obvious. Like it’s already decided.

Scrimmage comes shortly after.

“Let’s see it!” KK calls, bouncing on her toes. “Backcourt!”

“High school duo,” Nika adds. “We’ve been waiting on this.”

Isadora steps onto the court.

Across from her, Paige. Same spacing. Same positions. Different everything.

The ball gets checked in. Play starts.

Isadora drives, kicks out, rotates back. Clean.

Then she sees it, Paige cutting.

Open. The pass leaves her hands. Just off.

Too far forward.

Paige reaches, misses. Turnover.

“Good look,” Aubrey says immediately. “That’s there.”

“Yeah,” KK nods. “Just a little off.”

No one lingers. They reset.

Next possession. Paige brings it up. Isadora shifts to the wing.

The pass comes late this time. Isadora hesitates. Shoots anyway.

Miss.

“Keep taking that,” Aaliyah calls. “That’s your shot.”

Isadora nods.

Doesn’t say anything.

It keeps going. Close. Almost. Never quite. They move around each other instead of with each other.

Cuts that don’t get seen. Passes that don’t get expected. Moments where it should be instinct, and isn’t.

“Timing,” Aubrey says again at one point, jogging past.

“Yeah,” KK adds. “Y’all haven’t played together in forever.”

“Three years is real,” Azzi shrugs.

Everyone accepts it.

Moves on.

Whistle. Scrimmage ends.

“Good work,” Geno calls. “We’ll clean it up.”

Balls stop. Conversations start back up like nothing happened.

Isadora bends slightly, hands on her knees, catching her breath. Footsteps stop near her. She doesn’t look up right away.

“Dora.”

She straightens.

Paige stands there for a second. Not close. Not far. A small nod.

“That’ll come.”

Flat. Quick.

Before Isadora can respond, if she even was going to, Paige turns and walks off.

Just like that. Isadora watches her go for a second, then looks down at the ball in her hands. Around her, it’s easy again. Teammates laughing, talking, brushing it off like it’s nothing.

Like it makes sense. Like it’s just time apart.

Isadora spins the ball once, catching it against her hip.

Everyone else sees rust.

But it doesn’t feel like rust.

The locker room is loud after practice.

Not chaotic, comfortable.

Bags hitting benches. Water bottles cracking open. Music playing low from someone’s speaker in the corner. KK talking at the same time as everyone and somehow still being heard.

Isadora stays quiet as she walks in, towel slung over her shoulder.

She picks a locker near the end of the room.

Paige is already on the opposite side. Far enough that it feels intentional. Maybe it is.

Isadora sits, leaning forward slightly as she unties her shoes. The laces feel too tight.

Across the room, Paige laughs softly at something Aubrey says. It catches Isadora off guard.

Not because of the laugh itself. Because it sounds familiar.

For a second, it pulls something old to the surface: summer tournaments, bus rides, late nights in empty gyms.

Then it’s gone.

“Okay,” KK says loudly, dropping onto the bench nearby. “I gotta know.”

A few people look up immediately.

“That’s dangerous,” Azzi mutters.

KK points between Isadora and Paige. “How annoying were you two in high school?”

A couple of laughs scatter through the room.

“Like seriously,” KK continues. “Y’all won, what, every state championship ever?”

“Basically,” Aubrey says.

“Three,” Paige says shortly from across the room.

Isadora keeps her eyes down, loosening her other shoe.

“See?” KK says. “Dynasty behavior.”

“What was that even like?” Nika asks. “Playing together that long?”

Silence hangs for half a second too long. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Too long for Isadora not to.

She glances up automatically. Paige is already looking somewhere else.

“Normal,” Paige says.

At almost the exact same time, Isadora says, “A long time ago.”

Their answers overlap awkwardly. KK doesn’t seem to notice.

“That’s crazy though,” she says. “Like y’all probably know everything about each other’s game.”

Something twists low in Isadora’s stomach. Across the room, Paige grabs her water bottle.

“Some stuff,” Paige says.

Short. Flat. Conversation over. Or it should be.

But Aaliyah leans back against her locker, smiling a little. “I watched clips of you guys in high school. The chemistry was actually ridiculous.”

Isadora’s hands still for a second.

She resumes untying her shoe immediately after.

“Yeah,” Aubrey agrees. “Like genuinely unfair.”

“You could tell they’d been playing together forever,” Amari adds.

The room feels warmer suddenly. Too warm.

Isadora pulls her shoe off harder than she means to. Across from her, Paige’s jaw shifts slightly. Not enough for anyone else to catch.

“High school’s different,” Paige says.

No one responds right away.

Something about her tone closes the conversation without sounding rude.

KK, thankfully, moves on first.

“Well,” she says, clapping once, “once y’all stop being rusty, the rest of us are cooked.”

A few people laugh. Azzi throws a towel at her. The attention shifts. Just like that.

Conversations split apart again, people talking over each other about practice, food, classes.

The pressure eases from the room.

But not from Isadora. She finally looks up again without meaning to.

Paige is already standing now, back turned slightly as she grabs clothes from her locker. Distance. Even here. Especially here.

It’s strange.

They used to take up the same space so easily. Now every inch between them feels deliberate. Like something carefully maintained.

Paige says something quietly to Aubrey that Isadora can’t hear. Aubrey laughs. Paige smiles faintly.

And Isadora hates that she still notices things like that.

“Isa.”

She looks over. Aaliyah tosses her a sports drink.

“Nice passes today,” she says casually. “Once the timing settles in, it’s gonna be scary.”

Isadora catches the bottle automatically. “Thanks.”

Across the room, Paige goes still for the briefest moment at the word timing.

Then she disappears into the showers without saying anything at all.

The locker room settles again after that.

Not quieter, exactly. Just easier.

The tension disperses once Paige is gone, folding back into the usual rhythm of teammates talking over each other and digging through bags.

Isadora twists the cap off the sports drink Aaliyah gave her, taking a long sip mostly to give herself something to do.

“You survived first practice,” Aubrey says from a few lockers down.

“Barely,” Isadora replies before she can stop herself.

Aubrey smiles faintly. “That’s everyone’s first week.”

“Speak for yourself,” KK cuts in immediately. “I was incredible from day one.”

Azzi snorts from across the room. “You airballed in your first open gym.”

KK points accusingly. “Why do you remember negative things about me so vividly?”

“Because they happen often.”

A few people laugh. Isadora feels herself relax just slightly at the sound of it.

Then KK suddenly straightens like she’s had a life-changing realization. “Oh, my God.”

Everyone immediately groans.

“No,” Aubrey says.

“Yes,” KK says, standing now. “We need a team night.”

“We literally had one last week,” Ice points out.

“That was before Dora got here,” KK replies, waving dismissively. “This one matters.”

Isadora glances up at the nickname.

Dora.

The second someone else says it, it sounds different. Lighter. Detached from memory.

“Mandatory attendance,” KK continues. “No excuses.”

“Mandatory?” Aaliyah repeats.

“Yes.”

“You can’t make something mandatory if you’re not the coach,” Azzi says.

KK ignores her completely. “Ted’s tonight. Eight o’clock.”

At the mention of Ted’s Restaurant, a few people immediately start talking at once.

“Oh, I’m in.”

“Honestly, yeah.”

“I need mozzarella sticks.”

“See?” KK says triumphantly. “Culture.”

Isadora leans back slightly against her locker, listening more than participating.

Ted’s.

She’d heard about it already. Apparently, half the athletic department practically lived there.

“Isa, you coming?” KK asks suddenly.

Every instinct in Isadora immediately says no. Too much. Too soon. But everyone’s looking at her now.

“Yeah,” she says after a second. “Sure.”

“Good,” KK says. “Because if you said no, I was gonna guilt-trip you.”

“That still could’ve worked,” Aubrey mutters.

“It absolutely would’ve worked.”

The room breaks into overlapping conversations again.

Plans. Rides. Arguments about food orders.

And then, the shower room door opens.

Isadora’s shoulders tense before she can stop it. Paige walks back out, hair damp, hoodie already pulled on. Her gaze flicks across the room once.

Quick. Assessing.

“Team night,” KK announces immediately, pointing at her like this is breaking news. “Ted’s. Eight. Mandatory.”

Paige pauses near her locker.

“Mandatory?” she repeats flatly.

“Yes.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is tonight.”

Paige shakes her head slightly, pulling a clean shirt from her bag. “I’ll see.”

“Nope,” KK says instantly. “Wrong answer.”

“KK-“

“Nope.”

Aubrey laughs quietly under her breath.

“Isa’s going,” KK adds, like that somehow seals it.

For the first time since coming back into the room, Paige looks directly at Isadora.

Not long. Barely a second. But enough. Isadora looks away first.

“Cool,” Paige says finally.

That’s it. Just cool.

Then she sits down at her locker again, attention dropping to retaping her wrist. The conversation moves on around them, but Isadora can still feel the awareness of her across the room.

Not watching. Just there.

Like a weight she keeps accidentally leaning toward.

KK claps loudly once more. “Alright, decided. Eight o’clock. If anyone bails, I’m publicly shaming you.”

“You publicly shame us anyway,” Azzi says.

“That’s different. That’s out of love.”

A towel hits KK in the face.

The room erupts again. And for a moment, sitting there with everyone laughing around her, Isadora almost feels normal.

Almost.