The Color of Hope - By Kim Tate Page 0,19
just swigged. “That’s the answer I should’ve given him.” She fist-bumped Stephanie.
“Oh, y’all are ganging up on me?” Marcus said. “I’m not worried because I know how to pray too—and I’m praying for both of you.” He nodded like he had some inside track. “Don’t be surprised when I’m fist-bumping y’all in the hallway on the first day of school.”
“Don’t be praying for me,” Stephanie said. “Totally out of bounds and uncalled for. I don’t need you trying to shake my inner resolve.”
Marcus laughed and countered with a quick reply, but Charley barely heard—because she’d heard something else. That he was a praying man. And the thought that he might’ve prayed for her . . .
The plan wasn’t working. Everything about this night was fueling her crush on him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday, July 31
Stephanie stood on the sidelines during a timeout, rallying cheers for the Over 30 team. “Forty-two seconds to go, and we’re four points down. We’ve gotta pump up our guys! Let’s do the last cheer I taught you.”
Cyd gave her the same look she’d been giving the whole game. “I’m not doing another cheer. It’s silly. Can’t we just clap and shout ‘Woo’?”
Stephanie eyed her sister. “You are so pitiful. Cedric’s working himself to the bone, oldest one out there, and all you can give him is a sad ol’ ‘Woo.’” She shook a pompom at her. “Put some oomph into it, girl! Cheer on your man!” She shook her poms outward. “Go, Lindell! I see you, babe! You can do it!”
“Where’d you get those pompoms, anyway?” Cyd said. “I’m gonna burn those things.”
Janelle laughed, shaking hers. “They’re fun! We found them at the party store yesterday.” She looked down at the three five-year-olds beside her—her daughter, Tiffany; Kory’s daughter, Dee; and Todd and Becca’s daughter, Claire. “Shake ‘em, girls!”
The three shook their pompoms and shouted, always eager for fun.
“See,” Stephanie said, “Some people don’t have to be told twice.”
“How about Libby?” Janelle said. “I see her poms going extra hard when Travis has the ball.”
“So I saw,” Stephanie said. “Heard her cheering extra loud for him too.”
“Y’all are funny,” Libby said. “It’s not about Travis. It’s about the Over 30s and Team Wood. And since we’re counting points scored, I’m noting that Travis has the most points on the Over 30 team.”
“True. But don’t get excited.” Stephanie glanced over to where the “older” guys were huddled up. “We’ve got Cedric and Lindell on our team, and their combined points give Team Bruce the win this morning.”
“Uh, not exactly.” Charley stood alongside them, pointing to the Under 30 team. “Marcus scored more than their combined points. Team Gladys won this round.”
Stephanie gave her a look. “Yeah, with you cheering like a mad woman the whole time. I’m about to take back those pompoms I gave you. Sure didn’t take you long to get into it.”
“I know, it’s fun! I was dead tired when I got here, but the game woke me up.”
“Girl, you and me both. We were up another couple hours after you left at two!”
A whistle blew, the guys broke from their huddle, and Stephanie snapped back to cheer mode.
“Come on, y’all! Let’s cheer our guys to victory!” She threw down her poms and started clapping, chanting, “Swish it, sink it, send it on in! Over 30s are here and ready to win!”
Family members stood in the bleachers, stomping as Stephanie repeated it two more times. About twenty to thirty of them had shown up; the Over 30s had the numbers advantage since the younger crowd liked to sleep in.
They all watched intently as Cedric inbounded the ball and passed it to Travis. Travis dribbled downcourt and passed to Kory. Kory took a shot, and it skidded around the rim and bounced back out.
“Awww!” sounded from Stephanie’s cheer team, then, “Yesss!” when Kory rebounded.
“Dribble it!” Stephanie called to the cheerleaders. “Dribble it, pass it, we want a basket! Dribble, dribble, pass, pass, shoot, and score!” they yelled.
“D-E-F-E-N-S-E!” Charley yelled. “De-fense! De-fense!”
Marcus wouldn’t let Kory get another shot, so he passed the ball out to Cedric, who took a chance on a three-point shot—and made it.
“Woooooo!” Cyd was jumping up and down. “Go, Ced, go! Go, Ced, go!”
“Oh, now you got some oomph in that ‘Woo.’” Stephanie high-fived her sister. “Can’t blame you. That was awesome! Team Bruce! Over 30s!”
One point down and twenty-seven seconds left, the Under 30s got ready to inbound the ball—then Marcus suddenly called a time-out.
“Why’d he do that?” Stephanie asked.
“He must’ve seen some