Chapter 7

The gym feels hotter today.

Or maybe Isadora’s just irritated.

Practice has barely started, and already everything feels off, passes half a second late, defensive rotations too slow, Geno stopping drills every few minutes to correct spacing.

“Again!” he calls.

A collective groan echoes through the team. Isadora wipes sweat from the back of her neck as everyone resets.

Across the court, Paige catches a ball from Aubrey and immediately swings it back without looking.

Easy. Effortless.

With everyone else, Paige looks comfortable. Fluid.

Then the drill shifts again.

“Backcourt together,” Geno says, pointing between Paige and Isadora. “Let’s clean up the timing.”

Isadora feels it immediately, that tiny shift in attention from the rest of the team. Not pressure exactly. Expectation.

Because everybody knows the stories. The highlights. The state championships. The undefeated seasons.

People still bring up their high school chemistry like it’s some legendary thing. So every time they’re paired together, the team waits for it to happen again.

It doesn’t.

“Ready?” Paige asks.

The question is quick. Neutral. Isadora nods once. The whistle blows.

Paige drives first, collapsing the defense before kicking the ball out toward the wing.

Isadora’s there, but the pass is lower than she expects. It clips awkwardly off her fingertips.

Turnover.

“Reset,” Geno says immediately.

No annoyance in his voice. Just correction.

Still, Isadora feels embarrassment crawl up her neck anyway.

“My bad,” Paige says automatically.

Isadora shakes her head once. “I should’ve had it.”

But neither of them really sounds convinced.

Again.

This time, Isadora initiates the offense. Paige cuts baseline.

Open.

Isadora sees it too late. By the time the pass comes, the window’s gone.

“Ah,” KK winces from the sideline.

“Y’all are thinking too much,” Azzi calls out.

Geno folds his arms. “Play. Don’t analyze.”

Easy for him to say.

Isadora grabs the ball again. Her chest feels tight now.

Because the worst part is, she knows Paige’s game.

Still.

She knows the way Paige likes to attack gaps, the rhythm of her cuts, the exact moment she usually accelerates toward the rim.

Her body remembers. But every time instinct tries to take over, something gets in the way.

Hesitation. Awareness. History.

“Again,” Geno says.

The next rep almost works. Almost.

Paige slips around the screen perfectly. Isadora threads the pass exactly where it needs to go.

For one split second, it clicks. The gym reacts immediately.

“There it is!” KK yells.

But Paige bobbles the catch. Just barely. Long enough to ruin the finish.

The ball bounces off the rim. Silence hangs for half a beat.

Then Aubrey shrugs lightly. “That looked better.”

“Way better,” Aaliyah agrees.

Paige retrieves the rebound without saying anything. Isadora looks away before she can meet her eyes.

Practice keeps moving. Drills blur together.

At one point during the scrimmage, Paige calls for the ball, and Isadora hesitates before passing. That tiny pause is enough.

A defender jumps the lane. Turnover.

Geno blows the whistle hard this time. “Trust the read!”

“I saw it late,” Isadora says immediately.

Paige’s jaw tightens slightly, but she just nods once. No argument.

Which almost makes it worse.

Later, while everyone’s getting water, KK drops beside Isadora near the bench.

“I don’t get it,” she says quietly, genuine confusion in her voice. “Y’all used to move like mind readers.”

Isadora stares down at the bottle in her hands. Across the gym, Paige laughs faintly at something Sarah says.

Like she can feel Isadora looking, her head turns slightly, then stops. Not quite meeting her eyes.

KK follows Isadora’s gaze accidentally.

“Oh my God,” she says suddenly. “Wait. Is this one of those weird ex-best-friends things?”

Isadora nearly chokes on her water. “What?”

KK squints at her. “You know. Like when people used to be super close, and now they’re awkward for no reason.”

“No reason?” Azzi repeats from nearby. “There’s always a reason.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean…” KK gestures vaguely between them. “This feels intense.”

Isadora forces herself to stay still. “We just haven’t played together in a while.”

It comes out rehearsed, even to her own ears. KK studies her for another second.

Then, Geno blows the whistle again before she can ask anything else. “Let’s go!”

The team jogs back onto the court. Paige takes her place across from Isadora again. Same positions. Same distance.

“Last five minutes,” Geno says. “Compete.”

The ball gets checked in. Paige cuts. Isadora sees it.

For a moment, instinct screams at her to throw the pass before Paige even turns like she used to. Like she always used to. But Isadora hesitates.

Just enough.

By the time she passes, it’s too late. The ball sails out of bounds untouched. The whistle echoes through the gym.

Nobody says anything this time. Not KK. Not Geno. Not Paige.

But the silence somehow feels worse than correction.

Paige jogs to retrieve the ball near the wall, shoulders tight.

And standing there at half court, Isadora realizes the problem isn’t that they forgot how to play together.

It’s that somewhere along the way, they stopped trusting each other to be there.

The whistle blows again, sharp through the gym.

“Reset!” Geno calls.

Everyone shifts back into position automatically, but the energy feels different now. A little flatter. The team still runs the sets, still talks on defense, still competes, but there’s a layer of frustration sitting underneath everything.

Mostly because everybody can see it.

The chemistry between Isadora and Paige is supposed to be obvious. Natural. Something automatic.

Instead, every possession looks forced.

Geno lets them play through a few more sequences before finally calling for water.

The team breaks apart quickly, sneakers squeaking across the hardwood as people head toward the benches and coolers. Isadora grabs a towel and wipes at the sweat collecting along the back of her neck before sitting down near the end of the bench.

Across the gym, Paige leans against the scorer’s table with her water bottle tilted toward her mouth, eyes fixed somewhere ahead of her instead of on anyone around her.

Isadora looks away first.

Again.

“Okay,” KK says suddenly, dropping down onto the floor in front of the bench. “I’m gonna say something.”

“That’s usually bad news,” Aubrey mutters.

KK ignores her completely. “No, because I genuinely don’t understand.”

Aaliyah twists the cap off her drink. “Understand what?”

KK gestures vaguely across the gym between Paige and Isadora. “That.”

Isadora’s stomach tightens immediately.

Aubrey glances over. “The offense?”

“The offense, yes, but also…” KK hesitates, trying to find the wording. “The vibe.”

“The vibe?” Ice repeats, laughing a little.

“Yes, the vibe,” KK says defensively. “Everybody talks about how insane they were together in high school, but they play like they met three business days ago.”

A few people laugh quietly at that.

Isadora forces herself to keep staring down at her water bottle.

“It’s not that bad,” Aaliyah says carefully.

“It’s not bad,” KK agrees. “That’s the weird part. They still know what the other person wants to do. You can see it.”

“Yeah,” Aubrey says slowly, nodding. “Like the reads are right.”

“But the trust isn’t there,” Azzi says from nearby.

The words land harder than they probably mean to.

Isadora glances up instinctively. Across the court, Paige’s head lifts slightly, too.

For a second, neither of them looks away. Then Paige drops her gaze first, tightening the lid on her water bottle.

KK points immediately. “See? That!”

“What?” Paige asks, walking back over now.

“You guys are weird.”

Paige gives her a flat look. “Thank you.”

“No, seriously,” KK says. “It feels tense every time you’re on the court together.”

“It’s called rust,” Paige says.

The answer comes fast. Too practiced.

KK shakes her head immediately. “No. Rust is missed timing. This feels like both of you are overthinking every possession.”

“That’s because Coach keeps stopping practice every five seconds,” Paige replies.

Geno points from across the gym without looking up from his clipboard. “I can still hear you.”

A few people laugh softly.

But KK doesn’t let it go. “I just think maybe you guys don’t know each other anymore like everybody assumes you do.”

The gym quiets slightly after that. Not completely. Just enough.

Isadora feels her grip tighten around her water bottle. Paige’s expression stays neutral, but there’s something sharper around her eyes now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paige asks.

KK shrugs, suddenly sounding more thoughtful than teasing. “You played together forever, right? Since you were kids?”

Neither of them answers immediately.

“Yeah,” Paige says eventually.

“And then you stopped talking for like three years.”

The statement hangs there awkwardly.

Most of the team exchanges quick glances.

Because that part they do know. Not why. Not what happened. Just that there was distance.

“Well,” Aaliyah says carefully, trying to smooth the conversation over, “people change a lot in three years.”

“Exactly,” KK says. “So maybe basketball isn’t the problem.”

Isadora exhales slowly through her nose. She hates how close that feels to the truth.

Caroline leans back against the bench behind her. “Honestly, I get what KK means. Y’all probably knew each other so well before that, now it’s weird trying to figure out where you stand again.”

Nobody responds to that one.

Because there isn’t really anything to say.

Paige sits down at the opposite end of the bench, elbows resting against her knees. Still distant. Even here.

“You’re making this sound way more dramatic than it is,” Paige says finally.

KK immediately points at her. “See? You’re doing it again.”

Paige looks genuinely confused now. “Doing what?”

“Acting like everything’s normal.”

The words hit hard enough that Isadora’s chest tightens. Across the bench, Paige goes still for half a second.

Aubrey notices it too. Isadora can tell by the way her expression shifts slightly before she quickly looks away again.

Nobody jokes for a moment after that. The silence stretches just long enough to become uncomfortable. 

Then Azzi speaks up. “So what’s the solution?”

KK sits up straighter instantly, clearly waiting for someone to ask. “Team bonding.”

A collective groan immediately echoes through the gym.

“No,” Aubrey says.

“Yes,” KK insists.

“Every time you plan team bonding, something terrible happens,” Ayanna says.

“That was one time.”

“You got us locked out of the escape room.”

“That employee was rude.”

Geno finally looks up from his clipboard. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“We need everyone hanging out together outside basketball,” KK explains. “Especially them.”

She points directly at Paige and Isadora again. 

Isadora wants to disappear. Paige rubs a hand briefly across the back of her neck, already looking exhausted by the conversation.

“We already hang out as a team,” she says.

“That’s different,” KK replies immediately. “Most of that is after practice when everybody’s tired. I mean actual bonding.”

“Why are you saying bonding like it’s a military exercise?” Aubrey asks.

“Because chemistry matters.”

“On the court,” Paige says.

“And off it,” KK argues. “You can tell when teammates genuinely know each other.”

Aaliyah nods slowly. “She’s not wrong.”

Isadora finally speaks for the first time in a while. “You guys are acting like we hate each other.”

The second the words leave her mouth, she regrets them.

Because now everybody looks at her. Including Paige.

“No one said that,” Amari says carefully.

“Obviously not,” KK adds quickly. “I just think maybe there’s still awkwardness.”

There is. Everybody can feel it. Nobody understands how deep it goes.

Geno blows his whistle once against his palm. “I don’t care what you call it. If spending time together gets you communicating better, then do it.”

And just like that, the decision’s basically made.

KK claps her hands together triumphantly. “Perfect. Tomorrow night.”

“Why are you so excited about this?” Azzi asks.

“Because I’m right.”

“You don’t even know if you’re right.”

“I always know.”

“You absolutely do not.”

The conversation starts splintering after that into overlapping suggestions.

Movie night. Bowling. Dinner. A bonfire.

Half the ideas get shut down immediately. Through all of it, Isadora stays mostly quiet.

Across from her, Paige does the same.

At one point, Aubrey asks, “You both good with this?”

Paige answers first. “Sure.”

Short. Flat. Neutral.

Everyone turns toward Isadora next. She can feel Paige looking at her now without actually lifting her head. Isadora twists the cap back onto her water bottle slowly before nodding once.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Fine.”

Nobody seems fully convinced by either answer. But nobody pushes.

Geni blows the whistle again before the conversation can settle too deeply. “Alright, enough therapy. Back on the court.”

The team groans as everybody stands again.

Isadora rises with them, adjusting the hem of her shirt automatically. Across the bench, Paige stands too. For one brief moment, they end up facing each other in the middle of the movement around them.

Close enough to speak. Neither of them does.

Then Paige looks away first and jogs back onto the court.

And Isadora follows a second later.