Chapter 3

(Flashback, 2008)

The first time Isadora Ramirez meets Paige Bueckers, she’s seven years old and already annoyed.

The gym smells like rubber floors and juice boxes.

Isadora sits cross-legged against the wall, tugging at the Velcro strap of her sneakers, pulling it tighter, then tighter again like that’s going to make her faster.

“Isa, you’re in next,” her coach calls.

“I know,” she mutters, not looking up.

A basketball bounces somewhere nearby, too loud in the small gym, echoing off the walls.

Then it gets closer. And closer. And then, it stops right in front of her.

Isadora looks up.

A girl stands there, blonde ponytail slightly messy, holding a basketball almost as big as her.

“You’re in my spot,” the girl says.

Isadora blinks. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” the girl says, completely serious. “I sit here before games.”

Isadora glances at the floor, then back up. “There’s no names.”

“There doesn’t have to be. I always sit here.”

“Well, I’m sitting here now.”

A pause.

The girl drops the ball, catches it again.

“You wanna play for it?” she asks.

Isadora tilts her head. “Play what?”

“One-on-one,” the girl says. “If I win, I get my spot back.”

“And if I win?”

The girl shrugs. “You can keep it.”

That’s not fair.

Isadora pushes herself up anyway. “Fine.”

The girl grins immediately. “Okay. I’m Paige.”

“Isadora.”

“Too long,” Paige says. “I’m calling you Dora.”

Isadora frowns. “You don’t get to pick that.”

Paige is already walking toward the side hoop. “C’mon, Dora.”

They’re both a little messy.

Dribbles too high. Shots too hard. The ball slipping away sometimes before they grab it back.

But neither of them backs down.

“Hey, that doesn’t count!” Isadora says when Paige’s shot bounces off the rim and still drops.

“It does count!”

“It hit weird!”

“That still counts!”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“Yes, it does!”

They argue after almost every basket.

2-2.

3-3.

4-4.

They’re breathing harder now, cheeks flushed, sneakers squeaking too loud on the floor.

“Next one wins,” Paige says.

Isadora nods, serious.

Paige dribbles forward, almost loses it, saves it, then throws up a shot.

Backboard. Rim. Bounce.

In.

Paige throws her arms up. “I won!”

Isadora stares at the hoop, then at her. “You got lucky.”

Paige laughs. “No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!”

Isadora crosses her arms. “Rematch.”

“Okay.”

They play again. And again. And again.

A whistle blows somewhere. Someone calls their names.

They keep going anyway. Finally, a coach walks over. “Paige. Isadora. You’re on the same team.”

They both stop.

“What?” Isadora says.

The coach points to the court. “Same team. Let’s go.”

They look at each other. Then toward the court. Then back again.

“Oh,” Isadora says.

Paige grins, a little different now. “Guess you don’t have to move.”

“Guess not.”

Paige picks up the ball and tosses it to her, too high.

Isadora still catches it.

“Pass it to me when I’m open,” Paige says, already running toward the court.

“I might not,” Isadora calls.

Paige laughs over her shoulder. “You will.”

Isadora watches her for a second, then follows.

The court feels bigger when she steps onto it.

Not actually bigger, same lines, same hoops, but louder somehow. Parents clapping, sneakers squeaking, a referee blowing a whistle like everything matters more the second the game starts.

Isadora tightens her grip on the ball as she jogs into place.

“Isa!” her coach calls. “Top of the key.”

She nods quickly, moving where she’s told.

Across from her, a girl on the other team sticks her tongue out.

Isadora just stares back.

A whistle blows.

“Let’s go!”

The ball gets checked in, passed once, twice, then it’s in Isadora’s hands.

For a split second, everything feels too fast.

“Dora! Here!”

She turns. Paige. Already moving. Already open.

Isadora hesitates. Just for a second.

Then she passes. The ball hits Paige right in the hands like it’s supposed to.

Paige doesn’t even think, just turns, takes two quick steps, and throws it up.

It banks off the backboard and drops.

Isadora blinks.

They fall into something quick after that. Not perfect. Not clean. But easy.

Paige keeps moving, never standing still, always cutting, always calling for the ball like she knows exactly where it’s supposed to go.

And somehow, Isadora starts to know too.

“Left!” Paige calls.

Isadora dribbles left.

“Now!”

She passes without thinking. Paige catches it mid-step and scores again.

“See?” Paige says as they run back. “You will pass it to me.”

Isadora huffs. “You were open.”

“I’m always open.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is if you pass me the ball.”

Isadora rolls her eyes, but there’s something lighter in her chest now.

Midway through the game, Isadora grabs a rebound. The ball almost slips out of her hands, but she pulls it in tight, turning quickly.

“Dora!”

She doesn’t even look this time. She just throws it forward.

Paige is already there. Already running. She catches it, takes two steps, and scores again.

The bench cheers.

Someone yells, “Good pass!”

Paige points back at Isadora like it’s obvious. “Told you.”

Isadora just shakes her head, trying not to smile.

Later, when the game slows down for a second, free throws, people shuffling around, Paige drifts closer.

“You’re good,” she says, quieter now.

Isadora shrugs. “You’re fast.”

“I know.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Paige grins. “It was.”

A beat.

“We should practice,” Paige says.

Isadora looks at her. “We just met.”

“So?”

“So…that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Paige says. “We’re friends.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” Paige smiles.

Isadora sits there for a minute, thinking.

“Fine,” she says.

Paige’s grin gets bigger. “Practice after this game?”

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow too?”

Isadora sighs. “You’re a lot.”

“You’re coming though, right?”

“If my mommy says I can.”

Paige nods, satisfied, like that was always the answer.

The whistle blows again. They reset. Play continues. This time, when Isadora gets the ball, she doesn’t hesitate.

She already knows where Paige is.

And when she passes, Paige is there.