get that part down for the next game, but I dig the spirit. It’s fun.
Mr. Newsome’s brother does the announcing for our school. He’s retired military, and has one of those voices that booms. I’ve only ever heard him do the football games, so I’m not prepared for the fanfare he gives the basketball team. It’s clear where his loyalties lie.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Madhouse on Main, home of your District Seven defending champs, The Allensville Public Eagles!”
I’m surprised by the volume of my own screamed response. My hands cup my mouth to boost the volume as Coach Newsome announces the players on the other team. We’re playing some Catholic school from the city, which means they’re either going to suck or kick our asses. There’s no in between when it comes to private school athletic talent.
So far, it looks like they have us on height. But every single player just sorta looks lanky and easy to push over. Maybe I’m projecting my bias.
By the time he gets to announcing our team, I’m on my feet again and stomping along with the girls. Hayden and Tory get saved for the very end, which I’m guessing is a testament to how good they are. The same team chant follows each player’s name, but when Tory’s name and number gets said, there’s a new chant that takes over, a long, deep-voiced boo?
“Why are they booing him?” Naomi asks.
I shake my head, having no idea. Everyone is cupping their mouths and making the same awful sound, but they seem so happy about it. Even his team is bellowing, and Tory seems to feed off it, skipping his way down the line of players and pounding fists with every one until he gets to his brother, where he stops so they both can jump high and bump chests.
Tory takes his spot at the end of the line, cracking his neck in both directions while someone plays Jay-Z on in the backdrop of the announcement of the rules and good sportsmanship. He’s antsy, like a bull being held behind bars with a steak waving in front of him. His eyes are fixated on the nothingness at the center of the court, almost as though he’s playing out the entire game in his mind. Where Hayden smiles, Tory growls. Everything about him is harder, meaner—cut with a sharp edge to keep people from getting too close.
Keep people from getting burned.
I will myself to look away, but before his form leaves my periphery entirely, his movement draws me back in. He reaches over his back and tugs at the collar of his warmup shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth movement, his jersey underneath rising up enough to expose his entire abs and chest, and I feel flushed.
I’m sure the other girls noticed, too, but a quick glance to both sides doesn’t reveal either of them to have a noticeable reaction. I laugh silently to myself—at myself. It’s not as though I haven’t admired both D’Angelo brothers before. Hell, half the town has. The reason our football car washes do so well isn’t the cheer squad that lines up on the street corners holding signs, it’s the two Italian-American boys with oh-my-God bods who wash anything that rolls in with their shirts off and their shorts slung low. I’m guilty for dropping several twenties at those car wash fundraisers.
I lean forward, crossing my arms over my knees while I bite on my thumb and bring my flared-up cheeks under control. Before I get comfortable, though, the crowd stands for the national anthem, so I’m stuck with the guilty color on my cheeks. I dart my glance in all directions but Tory’s, like a petty thief covering my tracks, but I doubt anyone realizes it but me.
The student running the sound set up at the front table slips a few times while moving his phone close to the mic. It’s such an embarrassing rigged-up system, no doubt dwarfed by the tech over at the private school we’re playing against. But that’s what Allensville is—a place where you take what you have and find a way to make it work.
I settle my gaze back on the line of boys as the music finally crackles out of our decade-old speakers. The hot red blood that was pushed to the very top of my cheeks is almost back where it should be when Tory comes into view, sucking the calm from my chest with one