Chapter 12

(Flashback, 2020)

National Signing Day is supposed to feel like a finish line.

For most athletes, it’s the day where years of work finally become something tangible, something official, something that can be written down on paper and held up for cameras. It’s the day when the recruiting process ends, and the future begins.

For Paige, it has always been something else.

Ever since she was a kid, National Signing Day wasn’t something she imagined alone. Every version of the dream had included Isadora.

When they were nine and shooting on the cracked outdoor court between their neighborhoods, they talked about it.

When they were twelve and riding home from AAU tournaments in the backseat of Isadora’s parents’ SUV, they talked about it.

When they were fourteen and becoming the best backcourt in the state, they talked about it. When they were sixteen and taking recruiting visits, they talked about it.

The details changed over the years. Sometimes it was a national championship. Sometimes it was a Final Four. Sometimes it was winning four straight conference titles.

But the constant was always the same.

Them.

Together.

Which is why Paige wakes up that morning feeling strange. Not bad. Not nervous. Just strange.

Like there’s a weight sitting somewhere in her chest she can’t quite identify.

The drive to school is filled with excitement anyway. Her parents are practically glowing. Her grandparents are coming.

A local television station is covering the ceremony. Reporters have been talking about it for weeks. The Minnesota backcourt duo. The future UConn stars. The state champions. The best players to come through the school in years.

It should feel exciting.

It does feel exciting.

Mostly.

When they arrive at the gym, people are already everywhere.

Rows of folding chairs have been arranged across the court. Cameras sit on tripods near center court. School staff members are moving decorations around while athletes and their families begin setting up their signing tables.

The entire place feels different than it normally does.

Cleaner. More polished. Like somebody transformed their gym into a stage overnight.

“Oh, my God.” Paige’s mom stops just inside the entrance. “Look at all these people.”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Paige says.

“Exactly.”

“Normal people should still be asleep.”

“You’re being a Debbie-downer.”

“I learned from you.”

Her father laughs immediately. “That’s fair.”

Avery arrives a few minutes later, carrying a cardboard box full of decorations. “You forgot these.”

Paige blinks. “I definitely did.”

“I know.”

“You saved my life.”

“I know.” Avery rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

The relationship is still relatively new, but being around Avery is easy in a way Paige desperately needs right now. There’s no history to navigate. No awkwardness. No years of expectations attached to every conversation.

Just simple. Comfortable. Normal.

Together, they start setting up the table. A navy-blue tablecloth. UConn banners. A basketball covered in signatures. Framed photos from state championships.

Everything exactly as she’d pictured it.

At some point, while she’s helping tape a Huskies banner to the front of the table, her eyes drift across the gym.

Toward Isadora’s table.

She pauses.

Something looks off.

Not dramatically. Just enough to catch her attention.

The tablecloth isn’t blue.

It’s black.

Paige frowns slightly.

Maybe they forgot theirs. Maybe the school ran out. Maybe somebody grabbed the wrong one from storage.

There are a hundred reasonable explanations.

So she lets it go.

A few minutes later, though, she glances over again. And this time she notices something else. There aren’t many UConn decorations. No Huskies banners. No blue streamers. No oversized UConn logo.

Which is strange. Really strange.

Because if anybody should have gone overboard with UConn decorations, it should’ve been Isadora.

They’d spent half their childhood obsessing over the program.

Paige still remembers being eleven years old and forcing Isadora to watch old championship games on YouTube.

She remembers both of them insisting they’d play there someday.

She remembers lying on the floor of Isadora’s bedroom and debating which jersey numbers they’d wear.

“Paige.” Her mother waves a hand in front of her face.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

Paige blinks. “What?”

“You keep looking over there.”

Paige immediately looks away. “I’m not staring.”

“You are.”

“No I’m not.”

Her mom gives her a look. The kind mothers perfect over decades. The kind that says I know you’re lying, and I’m choosing not to call you out on it.

Fortunately, somebody from the local news station approaches before the conversation can continue.

The next hour disappears in a blur. Interviews. Photos. Questions. The same questions she’s been answering for years. Why UConn? What are your goals? What excites you most about the next level? How does it feel to finally make it official?

She answers them all automatically. Smiles when she’s supposed to smile. Laughs when she’s supposed to laugh.

But every now and then, she catches herself looking toward Isadora’s side of the gym. And every time she does, that strange feeling returns.

Something isn’t right. She just can’t figure out what.

By the time the ceremony officially begins, the gym is packed. Students fill entire sections of the bleachers. Teachers line the walls. Parents crowd near the front rows.

The local television cameras are positioned directly in front of the signing tables. Everything suddenly feels much more real.

The principal steps to the microphone and welcomes everyone. Applause follows. Then the ceremony begins.

One athlete at a time. One future at a time. The room cycles through cheers and applause as names are called and schools are announced.

Paige barely pays attention. Not because she doesn’t care. Because she’s waiting. Everybody is. The entire gym knows who the headliners are.

Eventually, the principal reaches basketball. The volume in the room immediately jumps.

Students start whispering. Parents pull out phones. Reporters straighten in their seats. 

The principal smiles. “We’d like to recognize one of the most accomplished athletes in school history.”

The applause starts immediately. Paige looks across the gym. For the first time all morning, she really looks at Isadora.

And something about her expression makes Paige’s stomach tighten. She looks calm. Too calm.

The principal continues. “State champion. Team captain. McDonald’s All-American.”

More applause. People cheer. Parents beam with pride. Paige waits for the ending. The part she’s heard a thousand times. The part everybody knows. The part that’s been true for years.

“…and next year, she will continue her academic and athletic career at the University of Iowa.”

For a moment, Paige genuinely thinks she misheard.

The words don’t register. Not immediately. Because they don’t make sense.

They can’t.

The University of Iowa?

No.

The applause explodes around her.

Students cheer. Parents stand. People start clapping enthusiastically.

But Paige just sits there.

Frozen. Staring.

Across the gym, Isadora rises from her chair. The black tablecloth. The lack of UConn decorations. The Iowa logo sitting near the front of the table.

Suddenly, all of it clicks into place. And the realization hits so hard it feels physical. She’s not going to UConn. She’s not coming.

The dream they’ve spent their entire lives building is gone. Not changed. Not delayed.

Gone.

Her chest tightens painfully.

Because she understands immediately. Maybe not every detail. Maybe not every conversation Isadora had with her family or coaches. But she understands enough.

Enough to know this didn’t happen overnight. Enough to know Isadora didn’t wake up one morning and randomly choose Iowa. Enough to know that somewhere along the way, she helped cause this.

“Dad.” The word comes out quietly.

Her father glances toward her. “You okay?”

Paige immediately realizes there are cameras everywhere. The television station is recording. Students are watching. Reporters are taking pictures.

So she forces herself to smile. Forces herself to clap. Forces herself to act like this is normal. Like she’s happy. Like her entire childhood isn’t quietly unraveling in front of her.

Across the gym, Isadora signs the paperwork. Poses for photographs. Shakes hands. Smiles.

And Paige can’t stop thinking about the little girls they used to be. Seven years old. Sweaty and exhausted after rec league games. Talking about UConn like it was a certainty. Like it was destiny.

Like nothing could ever separate them.

The applause eventually fades. The ceremony moves forward. But Paige barely hears any of it. Because all she can think about is the empty seat beside her.

The one that was supposed to be occupied by Isadora. The one that was supposed to have a matching UConn banner hanging behind it. The one that was supposed to represent the future they’d spent years building together.

Instead, it’s Iowa.

And for the first time, Paige is forced to confront something she has been avoiding for months.

This isn’t temporary. This isn’t a rough patch. This isn’t something that will magically fix itself once basketball season ends.

Isadora changed her future.

And whether Paige wants to admit it or not, she knows exactly why.

When her own name is finally called, the gym erupts. Students rise to their feet. People cheer. Cameras turn toward her.

This is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of her life.

The UConn logo stares back at her from the paperwork. The dream. The goal. Everything she’d worked for.

And yet, as she signs her name, she feels none of the triumph she expected.

Only guilt.

Because this was never supposed to be just her dream.

It was theirs.

And while the crowd celebrates around her, while her family smiles proudly, while Avery squeezes her shoulder and reporters snap photographs of the future UConn star making it official, Paige can’t stop looking across the gym.

Toward Isadora. Toward the Iowa table. Toward the place where their shared future used to be.

And for the first time since everything fell apart, she allows herself to acknowledge a truth she’s spent months avoiding.

She got into UConn.

She achieved exactly what she’d always wanted.

And somehow, it still feels like she’s lost something.

Liya yaps! :

k guys last flashback scene i promise