Redemption Prep - Samuel Miller Page 0,5

the simplest binary form of communication: 1 meant good, 2 meant bad; 1 meant success, 2 meant failure; 1 meant yes, 2 meant no.

Emma smiled. Neesha smiled back. The lights of the chapel flickered on and off.

Aiden.

AIDEN STARED AFTER where she’d just disappeared into the back of the church; she didn’t bother to look in his direction.

“. . . faster around picks, that’s the only way we beat these fucking giants, you know? Shoot them out the gym.”

He’d made himself impossible to ignore, combed his hair back just the way she always did it up for him and smiled with a poster-quality apology face. Still, she looked the other way.

“Plus, I’m trying to show off this jump shot for the scouts, okay? Make it fucking rain a little, you know? Splash splash? Aiden? Hello? What do you think?”

Dirk was talking down at him from a two-inch height advantage. All the guys were listening.

He cleared his throat. “I think you guys talk about basketball too much.”

“Please.” Dirk’s breath smelled terrible. “Just this week, care a little bit, please? I’d like to play in the professionals.”

Aiden rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright, I’ll get off faster, just as long as you can get your giraffe-ass body out far enough to set them.”

Everybody but Dirk laughed.

“Besides.” Aiden stared forward. “The scout’s coming to watch me.”

Because the school was so remote, the basketball team played three games a year, and only one in their home gym. Next Tuesday would be their first exhibition, against the previous years’ McDonald’s All Americans, and Coach Bryant had confirmed it for them in practice today—the Dallas Mavericks were sending a scout. Aiden hadn’t told the guys, but it was his dad who called the scouting department, to set up the trip. He was the one they were coming to watch.

“Just don’t be mopey forever, okay?” Dirk asked. “You look like Eeyore for last two weeks. Your game looks like it, too.”

No one on the team disagreed.

“Really?” he asked. “Alright, well, keep talking this shit and see how much you even get the ball next week.”

Dirk’s shoulders fell. “You’re right, bro. My bad.” The rest of them nodded apologies.

“By the way,” he said, leaning forward, patting Zaza’s shoulder, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “Hold on to that five hundred for me till later, okay?”

Zaza nodded, and the group was silent. Aiden tried one more glance at the back of the church, but Emma wasn’t there.

The flickering lights in the chapel were getting much worse, bowing in and out every few seconds, graduating to a strobe.

Aiden’s parents had sent him to Redemption with that one goal in mind—make the league. There were other schools, other teams, but his dad decided Redemption was the clearest shot. They’d sent coaches to his AAU games with crazy facts and figures about their success. When Coach Bryant visited, he brought two NBA players, Redemption alums, who used words like “revolutionary” to describe the system. They sold him on that dream that he’d come here, train with the best, showcase for the scouts, and go straight to the draft. For four years, he’d followed that path, starting since his Year One, and leading the team in scoring since Year Two. In four years, he’d never missed a practice, or shorted a workout, or sat out a scrimmage.

Now, here he was, a week away, and all he could think about was the fact that his girlfriend was ignoring him. Whether she knew it or not—and how could she not?—Emma was jeopardizing the most important week of his life.

“Emma told me to meet her tonight—” he started to whisper to no one, but as the lights dimmed again, he was interrupted by a moaning noise, like the drone of an alarm.

“Oh . . . oh . . .” It echoed through the church like a warning siren, but all the guys in his section groaned.

“Fucking Eddy,” Dirk muttered.

Aiden leaned forward to find where Eddy was sitting. Faces were flashing left and right, snapping around in search of the noise. It looked like some of the students were blinking incessantly, others clenching their jaws. He couldn’t tell if it was actually happening, or inside his own eyes, but students everywhere seemed possessed with tiny, almost unnoticeable shakes. The entire congregation had a vibration.

Eddy got louder and louder. “Oh . . .” His voice was wailing, quivering in every corner.

“Oh, oh—” Dirk yelled. “Just get to it already!”

The whole sanctuary laughed.

“What is that?” a Year One asked.

“This kid