Chapter 11

(Flashback, 2020)

The state championship game is everything it’s supposed to be.

Loud. Packed. The kind of atmosphere that makes the floor vibrate beneath your sneakers.

Every seat in the arena is filled. Students are packed into sections painted in school colors. Parents stand three rows deep along railings. Reporters line the baseline.

And somehow, despite all of it, Isadora feels calm.

Not because the stakes aren’t enormous. Not because they’re playing Wayzata. Not because she’s about to play the biggest game of her high school career.

Because Paige is here. Because this is what they’ve always done.

The two of them standing side by side at center court during introductions. The two captains. The two future UConn Huskies. The two girls everybody in Minnesota basketball knows.

As the announcer calls their names, the crowd erupts.

Paige bumps her shoulder. “You nervous?”

Isadora snorts. “No.”

“Good.”

“You are.”

Paige immediately looks offended. “I’m never nervous.”

“You’re literally lying.”

“I am literally not.”

“You threw up before sections.”

“That happened one time.”

“Last year.”

“It still only happened one time.”

The referee calls both teams to center court.

Paige flashes her a grin. The familiar one. The one that has been making Isadora smile since they were seven years old.

And for the first time in weeks, things feel normal. Really normal. Not forced. Not awkward. Not careful.

Just normal. The way they’ve always been.

The game starts fast.

Wayzata comes out aggressive. Physical. Determined. Exactly what everyone expected.

The first quarter turns into a battle immediately.

Every possession matters. Every rebound feels contested. Every point takes work. But something is different tonight.

Something Isadora hasn’t felt in weeks. Paige is looking for her.

Not avoiding her. Not hesitating. Looking.

The way she always used to.

Three minutes into the game, Paige comes off a screen and gets trapped.

Without even glancing, she fires a pass backward. Isadora is already there. Already moving.

The shot splashes through the net. The crowd explodes. And when Isadora looks back, Paige is already grinning.

Like she knew. Like she never doubted it. The feeling settles warm in Isadora’s chest.

The second quarter is even better.

Their offense starts humming. Flowing. The way it always does when they’re connected.

Paige drives. Isadora relocates.

Pass. Three. Bucket.

The next possession comes almost immediately. This time, Isadora drives baseline. The defense collapses.

She kicks it out. Paige catches. Shoots. Swish.

They don’t even celebrate.

Just point at each other while running back on defense.

Automatic. Instinctive. Years of muscle memory. Years of knowing exactly where the other person will be.

The crowd loves it. The announcers love it. Their teammates love it. The bench is losing its mind.

And for the first time since the kiss, Isadora lets herself believe.

Maybe this was just an adjustment. Maybe it was awkward because it was new. Because feelings complicated things. Because they were seventeen and figuring it out.

Maybe that’s all.

Because this feels like them.

This feels right.

By halftime, they’re up eight.

The locker room buzzes with energy. Everybody’s talking. Everybody’s excited. Coach is trying unsuccessfully to get the team’s attention.

Paige drops onto the bench beside Isadora. Beside. Not across. Not somewhere else. Beside.

Like she always has.

“You’ve got twenty.”

Isadora grabs her water bottle. “So do you.”

Paige grins. “We’re disgusting.”

A laugh escapes before Isadora can stop it. “There are children present.”

“Not anymore.” Paige points toward the court. “We killed them.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yet lovable.”

The response comes so naturally that neither of them even thinks about it.

For a moment, Isadora just looks at her. Paige’s hair is sticking to her forehead from sweat. Her face is flushed. Happy. Relaxed.

The distance that had been haunting Isadora for weeks feels gone.

Completely gone.

And suddenly she feels ridiculous for ever worrying. Maybe she was right. Maybe things are getting better. Maybe they just needed time.

The second half becomes a blur. The kind of game players remember forever. Huge shots. Momentum swings. Crowd noise that feels deafening.

With four minutes left, Wayzata cuts the lead to three.

The arena is shaking. Coach calls a timeout.

Everybody gathers around. Breathing hard. Sweating. Exhausted.

Coach draws up a play. Then looks at Paige. Looks at Isadora.

“You two know what to do.”

Simple as that. Because everybody does. The stars. The captains. The duo. The reason they’ve gotten this far.

The whistle blows, and they head back onto the floor.

Paige jogs beside her. Bumps her shoulder. Just like she did before tip-off.

“We got this.”

Three simple words. Nothing special.

Except somehow Isadora believes them completely. Because this is Paige. Because this is them. Because things are finally starting to feel right again.

The ball gets inbounded. The offense begins.

And for the next four minutes, they play the best basketball of their lives. Every cut works. Every read is perfect. Every pass arrives exactly where it should.

The chemistry isn’t just back. It’s better. Stronger. Like surviving the awkwardness somehow made them appreciate it more. Like they’re finally finding their way through whatever this weird stretch has been.

By the time the final buzzer sounds, they’ve won. State champions. Again.

The crowd explodes.

Students pour onto the court. Teammates are screaming. Parents are crying. The championship trophy waits at center court.

And somewhere in the middle of all the chaos, Paige finds her.

Immediately.

Like she always does.

She throws both arms around Isadora. The force of it nearly knocks her backward.

“We did it!” Paige’s voice is loud against her shoulder.

Breathless. Laughing.

“We actually did it!”

Isadora laughs too.

Wrapping her arms around her automatically. Holding on. For just a second longer than she probably should.

And standing there in the middle of the celebration, surrounded by cameras and confetti and teammates and everything they’ve worked for, Isadora genuinely believes the worst is behind them.

That whatever awkwardness existed is fading. That her and Paige are finding their way back to each other. That UConn is next. That they’ll spend four more years together. That everything they’ve dreamed about since they were kids is still waiting for them.

The celebration swallows the court whole. Students flood the hardwood. Parents spill down from the stands. Coaches are getting mobbed for pictures.

The championship trophy is making its way through half the roster as everyone takes turns holding it.

The arena is chaos. The best kind.

Isadora can barely stop smiling. Her cheeks hurt. Her voice is already going from yelling. Someone shoves a championship hat onto her head. Someone else wraps a medal around her neck.

She doesn’t even know who.

Everything is happening too fast.

“Isa!”

Her mom appears first. Then her dad. Then her younger brother. The next thing she knows, she’s being squeezed into a family hug.

“We’re so proud of you,” her mother says.

Her dad’s eyes are suspiciously shiny.

Her brother immediately steals her medal.

“Hey!”

“It’s mine now.”

“It’s literally not.”

“I saw it first.”

“You absolutely did not.”

The familiar argument earns a laugh from all of them.

For a few minutes, Isadora lets herself get swept up in it. Pictures. Hugs. Congratulations. State champions.

Again.

But even while she’s smiling for photos, her eyes keep drifting. Searching. Looking. Because there’s somebody she wants to celebrate with.

Somebody she always celebrates with.

Paige.

She hasn’t seen her since the hug after the buzzer. The one that’s replaying in Isadora’s head on a loop.

“We did it.”

Not I did it.

We.

The way it’s always been.

Eventually, her dad notices. “You looking for somebody?”

Isadora immediately looks away. “No.”

Her mother laughs. “Honey.”

“What?”

“Go find her.”

Heat immediately rushes into Isadora’s face. “Mom.”

“Go.”

“Mom.”

Her dad is grinning now, too. “Oh, leave her alone.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know where this is going.”

“Because you’re smart.”

“I regret speaking.”

Her mother laughs. Then gently nudges her shoulder. “Go celebrate with your best friend.”

Best friend.

The words make Isadora smile automatically. Because yeah. Exactly.

Her best friend.

So she leaves her family near the baseline and starts weaving through the crowd.

The arena floor is packed. Parents. Students. Reporters. Little kids asking for pictures.

It takes longer than she expects.

At first, she spots teammates. Then coaches. Then more family members. Still no Paige.

Eventually, she makes her way toward the opposite side of the court.

Near one of the tunnels.

And that’s when she sees her.

For a second, relief floods through her. There. Finally. Paige is standing near the sideline. Talking to someone. Smiling.

And immediately something feels strange.

Not wrong.

Just…different.

The girl standing in front of Paige is unfamiliar. Blonde. Pretty. Around their age. Not a teammate. Not somebody Isadora recognizes.

Which isn’t weird by itself. The arena is full of people.

Except the girl is hugging Paige. Not a quick congratulations hug. Not the kind everybody’s been exchanging all night. Something closer.

Longer.

More familiar.

Paige’s arms are wrapped around her waist. The girl’s face is buried against her shoulder.

And suddenly Isadora slows. Just slightly. Confusion creeping in. The two of them say something to each other. The girl laughs. Paige smiles.

That same smile. The one Isadora knows better than almost anyone.

A knot starts forming in her stomach. Small at first. Then growing. Because she doesn’t understand why. Not yet.

Then Paige looks up.

Sees her.

And everything changes.

The smile disappears instantly. Not completely. Just enough. Enough that Isadora notices. Enough that Paige notices Isadora noticing.

For a brief second, nobody moves. Then Paige steps back from the girl. Too quickly. Too awkwardly. And suddenly, Isadora understands.

No.

Not understands.

Suspects.

The realization hits like cold water. Paige says something to the girl. The girl turns around. Looks toward Isadora. Then back at Paige.

And immediately her expression changes too. Like she suddenly realizes something. Like she’s been handed information she didn’t have before.

Isadora’s heart starts pounding. Hard. Fast. Wrong.

Paige starts walking toward her. The girl follows. Every step feels surreal. Like she’s watching somebody else’s life.

By the time they stop in front of her, Isadora already knows.

She just doesn’t want to.

“Dora.”

The nickname sounds strained. Paige never sounds strained around her. Never.

And suddenly, Isadora really, really wishes she’d stayed with her family.

The girl beside Paige offers a polite smile. “Hi.”

Isadora manages one back. Barely.

Paige looks between them.

Then rubs the back of her neck. A nervous habit. One Isadora knows immediately.

And then…”This is Avery.”

The girl smiles again. “Congratulations. You were incredible tonight.”

Isadora nods. “Thanks.”

Silence. A beat passes. Then another. Nobody speaks.

Paige swallows.

Hard.

And that’s when Isadora knows.

Because Paige only looks like this when she’s bracing for impact.

“Avery’s my girlfriend.”

The world stops.

Not literally.

The crowd is still cheering. People are still celebrating. Music is still playing somewhere. But Isadora doesn’t hear any of it anymore.

Just those three words.

The knot in her stomach drops straight through the floor. For a moment, she genuinely forgets how to breathe.

Paige is watching her carefully now. Too carefully. Waiting. Bracing. Because she knows.

She knows exactly what she’s saying.

The worst part?

Avery looks surprised. Not guilty. Not nervous. Surprised.

Like this introduction should’ve happened months ago. Like she had no idea this was news.

Which means Paige never told her. Never mentioned it. Never prepared her. Because Paige never told Isadora either.

All those weeks. All those conversations. All those practices. And not once.

“Oh.” The sound leaves Isadora before she can stop it.

Paige’s shoulders tense immediately. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” She laughs.

The sound feels completely foreign.

“Wow.”

Nobody says anything. Paige looks miserable. Avery looks confused. And Isadora suddenly understands why Paige has been pulling away.

Every missed lunch. Every early departure. Every shift in behavior. Every tiny piece of distance. It crashes together all at once.

“Oh, my God.” The realization slips out quietly.

Paige closes her eyes. Just for a second. And that’s answer enough.

“You’ve been dating.”

Paige doesn’t answer immediately.

Which is an answer enough too.

“Dora-“

“No, no.”

She laughs again. Because somehow laughing feels better than crying.

“We won state.”

The words sound insane even to her own ears. “We literally just won state.”

“Dora-“

“That’s crazy.”

Avery glances between them. Clearly sensing she’s wandered into something she doesn’t understand.

Paige looks desperate now. The most uncomfortable Isadora has ever seen her.

And somehow that hurts more.

Because if Paige feels this guilty, then she knew. She knew exactly how this would feel.

“How long?” Isadora asks.

Paige hesitates. The hesitation destroys her.

Because if the answer were recent, she’d say it immediately.

“A little while.”

A little while.

A little while.

The phrase repeats in Isadora’s head. Weeks. Months. Who knows. All while she’d been sitting in Paige’s room talking about UConn.

Talking about the future. Talking about everything. The heartbreak arrives all at once. Sharp. Humiliating. Overwhelming.

But she’s standing in the middle of an arena. Surrounded by cameras. Surrounded by people. So she does the only thing she can.

She smiles.

A terrible smile.

One that feels like it’s cracking her face in half.

“That’s awesome.”

Paige immediately looks devastated. “Dora-“

“No, seriously.”

She nods. Too fast. Too bright.

“That’s awesome.”

Avery’s confusion deepens.

Paige looks like she wants the floor to swallow her.

And suddenly, Isadora can’t be here anymore. Can’t stand here. Can’t look at either of them. So she takes a step backward.

Then another.

“I should go.”

“Dora.”

Not now. Not like this. Not after this. Her eyes burn. Dangerously.

“I’ll see you later.”

Paige starts forward. Just one step. But Isadora’s already moving away.

Fast.

Because if she stays another second, she’s going to break apart right here in front of everyone.

Behind her, she hears Paige say her name again.

Once. Then twice. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn around. She just keeps walking.

Past teammates. Past families. Past reporters. Past the celebration that suddenly feels hollow.

And by the time she reaches her parents, she’s smiling again. A practiced smile. A convincing smile.

One that fools everyone except herself.

Across the court, the championship celebration continues.

And for the first time in her life, Isadora feels completely alone.