Across The Yard

Lila The alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., blaring like it had a personal grudge against me. I groaned, smacked the snooze button twice, and buried my face under the pillow. Five more minutes wouldn’t ruin my life. “Lila Evans!” My mom’s voice shot up the stairs like a warning siren. “You’re not going to be late again, are you?” Don’t make me come get you. I sighed. There went my five minutes. Dragging myself out of bed, I pulled on jeans, a hoodie, and my beat-up sneakers. No carefully ironed skirts or perfect blouses like Mom wished. Just me. When I grabbed my backpack, I made sure to slip my basketball inside too, right under my books, where she wouldn’t see. Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like toast and too-strong coffee. My dad sat with the morning paper, glasses sliding down his nose, while Mom hovered with her planner in hand. “Morning,” I muttered, reaching for an apple. Mom gave me that look — the one that could peel paint. “Is that really all you’re eating? You need proper energy for school, Lila.” I shrugged. “Apple’s got energy. Vitamins. Nature’s candy.” Dad snorted behind the paper, but Mom wasn’t amused. “You have a chemistry quiz today, don’t you? Remember, junior year is when colleges start paying attention. If you want that scholarship—” “I know, Mom.” I cut her off, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll ace it.” She gave me the look, the one that said she wasn’t convinced. She softened, just a little, but her eyes still flicked to my hoodie, to my sneakers, to the smudge of eyeliner I hadn’t bothered blending. I wasn’t the perfect daughter she pictured. I knew it. And honestly? Some days, I didn’t care. By the time I reached school, the halls were already buzzing. Posters for the upcoming basketball season were plastered everywhere: BOYS’ VARSITY – GO TIGERS! and GIRLS’ VARSITY – BRING THE HEAT! I smiled at the second one. At least here, I wasn’t just “John and Maria Evans’ daughter.” Here, I was point guard. Here, I was me. “Lila!” My best friend, Maya, popped up beside me, grinning. “Practice after class? Coach wants us running drills.” “You bet,” I said, patting my bag. “I brought the ball.” She smirked. “Did your mom catch you this time?” I rolled my eyes. “Please. She thinks I’m still going the debate club, If she knew how much time I spent on the court…” Maya laughed, but before I could join in, the homeroom teacher clapped her hands at the front of class. “All right, everyone, settle down. The cafeteria was chaos as usual. Trays clattered, voices overlapped, and the pizza looked like it had been through a war. Maya and I grabbed our food and slid into our usual spot with Jen. “So,” Jen leaned forward, smirking, “are we going to talk about it, or should Maya confess herself?” Maya’s face turned crimson. “Shut up.” Jen grinned. “Oh, come on. You’ve been staring at Daniel Carter like he’s the last piece of cake on earth.” I raised a brow. “Daniel? As in small guard Daniel?” Maya shoved a fry in her mouth, avoiding eye contact. Which was as good as an admission. “Wow,” I said, dragging out the word. “Didn’t see that one coming.” “Neither did I,” she muttered. “But he’s… you know… nice.” “Nice,” I repeated. “Translation: he passed you a water bottle at practice and smiled.” The table erupted in laughter, Maya groaning into her hands. “Don’t worry,” I added, nudging her shoulder. “If you want him, we’ll help you get him. Teammates stick together.” “Yeah,” Jen teased. “Operation Get Maya a Boyfriend is officially in motion.” The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes and doodled basketball plays in my notebook. By the final bell, I was drained, but practice was waiting. The gym echoed with sneakers squeaking against the floor and Coach’s voice booming. Sweat clung to my forehead as I ran drill after drill. And even though my muscles burned, I loved every second. On the court, I wasn’t the daughter with impossible expectations hanging over her head. I was just Lila — fast, sharp, focused. When practice wrapped, Maya and I walked home together, still teasing her about Daniel. “He’s not even my type,” she argued weakly. “Uh-huh,” I said, grinning. “Keep telling yourself that.” She rolled her eyes, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips. By the time I reached my street, the sky had melted into streaks of orange and pink. I dumped my bag in my room, showered, and collapsed on my bed with my phone. The group chat was buzzing., . Jen:Maya, did you at least smile back at him? . Maya:I don’t know what you’re taking about 🙄 . Me: Sure you don’t Lmao. I tossed the phone aside, music filling the room as I stared at the ceiling. And slept off. Noah The moving truck rumbled to a stop, and I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. Same story, different city. Boxes, furniture, and Dad barking orders like this was some corporate deal he needed to control. “Careful with that—don’t scratch the frame!” he snapped at the movers, his voice sharp enough to slice through the cool Thursday air. I stayed where I was, leaning against the mailbox. No point pretending I cared. We’d done this too many times. Pack up, ship out, start over. I could already picture Monday: new school, new faces, the same whispers behind my back. Who’s the new guy? Where’s he from? Why does he act like he doesn’t care about anything? Dad turned, his jaw tight, his suit already rumpled from the chaos. “Noah, don’t just stand there. At least pretend to be useful.” I clenched my teeth, biting back the first response that came to mind. Maybe if you’d bothered to ask me if I wanted to move, I’d feel like helping. Instead, I stayed silent, because silence irritated him more than words ever could. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “School starts Monday. Today’s Thursday. That gives you the weekend to adjust. Try not to make a mess of things this time.” I almost laughed. This time. Like every time before was my fault. “Got it,” I muttered flatly, not because I cared, but because it was easier than picking another fight. He didn’t answer. He’d already turned away, barking another command at the movers. That’s when I noticed her. She was walking up the street, earbuds in, a gym bag slung over her shoulder. Sweat clung to her neck, her jersey still sticking from practice. A basketball was tucked under her arm like it belonged there, like it was an extension of her. She slowed when she saw the truck, her eyes flicking over the scene, then landing on me. For a second, our gazes locked. Something twisted low in my stomach — curiosity, recognition, I didn’t know. But before I could even think about it, her expression hardened. She looked away, walking faster, like she’d decided I wasn’t worth the thought. I smirked faintly. Most people stared a little longer. She hadn’t. Still, I found myself watching until she disappeared into the house next door. Great. Just my luck. The neighbor’s a basketball girl. I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair. Another house, another street, another beginning I hadn’t asked for. But this time felt different, though I couldn’t say why. Maybe it was her. Or maybe I was just tired of pretending none of it mattered. Lila The smell of my mom’s chicken stew drifted through the house, rich and warm, the kind of scent that usually made me feel at home. Tonight, though, it felt like the prelude to one of her “family talks.” I was halfway through scrolling my phone on the couch when Dad cleared his throat, the universal signal that I should put my device down. I did — reluctantly. “Lila,” he said in that measured, serious tone he reserved for grades, career paths, and all the other things that weighed on me like bricks, “we have new neighbors.” I blinked. Okay? And? Mom smiled like it was exciting news. “Yes, they moved in earlier today. A single father and his son. They’ll be living right next door.” Dad folded his newspaper neatly, gaze pinning me. “It would be nice if you could be… welcoming. But remember, your focus should stay where it belongs — on your studies. Not on… distractions.” There it was. The lecture. I tried not to roll my eyes, but the urge was strong. “I know, Dad.” “And, Lila,” Mom added, “be careful about the friends you keep. Some of the girls you hang around with…” She trailed off with that pointed look that always made me feel like I had to defend myself. I crossed my arms. “Maya and Jen are good people. Just because Maya dyes her hair pink doesn’t make her a criminal.” “Still,” Dad said, his voice clipped, “you’re eighteen.The choices you make now will shape your future. You can’t afford to waste time.” The silence stretched heavy between us. My jaw tightened. Why do they always make it sound like one misstep will ruin me forever? I forced a nod, mostly so the conversation could end. “Got it. I’ll keep that in mind.” The second I escaped to my room, I flopped onto my bed and grabbed my phone. My thumbs flew across the screen. Me: Parents gave me the whole “don’t get distracted” speech again 🙄 The group chat with Maya and Jess lit up instantly. Maya: Distractions = new boy next door 👀 Spill. Jen : Have you seen him yet?? Me: No. Didn’t even know he existed until 5 minutes ago. Maya: Ugh, tragic. If he’s hot, you better introduce us. Jen : Lol Maya only thinks with her hormones. Maya: Says the girl who’s been crushing on Jason in chem since September. I grinned despite myself, shaking my head. Maya’s boy-obsession, Jess’s shyness — it balanced us out. Me: Anyway. Haven’t seen him. Don’t care. I’m coming over, Maya. Maya: Good. Bring snacks. And if the mystery neighbor blocks your path, send pics. I tossed my phone aside with a laugh. If only she knew. Ten minutes later, I was in my driveway, jingling my keys and ready to head out. The evening sky glowed with streaks of pink and orange, a perfect backdrop for freedom. Except there was one problem. A black car sat squarely across the edge of my driveway. Sleek. Shiny. Completely in my way. I stopped, arms tightening around my bag. You’ve got to be kidding me. The driver’s side door opened, and out stepped a boy. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell carelessly into his eyes. He shut the door like he had all the time in the world, then looked at me with a smirk that screamed trouble. “Something wrong?” His voice was smooth, lazy, like he already knew the answer. “Yeah,” I snapped. “You’re blocking my driveway.” He glanced at the car, then back at me, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Looks like it.” “Move it,” I said, crossing my arms. Instead of obeying, he leaned against the hood, arms folded, studying me like I was some puzzle. “You always this bossy, or is today special?” Heat prickled up my neck. “I’m not bossy. I just don’t have time for arrogant guys who think the world revolves around them.” He raised an eyebrow. “Arrogant? I just parked.” “You parked in front of my driveway,” I shot back. For a moment, silence stretched between us. His eyes flicked over me, landing on the basketball gear hanging from my duffel bag. Something unreadable flashed across his face. “You play?” he asked. I blinked, thrown by the change of subject. “Yeah. And?” “Nothing.” His smirk returned. “Just didn’t peg you for the type.” I bristled. “And what type am I exactly?” “The spoiled, easily-annoyed type.” My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” He pushed off the hood, strolling back to the driver’s side like he hadn’t just insulted me. “Relax, princess. I’ll move the car.” The engine roared to life a second later, and with an infuriatingly slow turn of the wheel, he backed out of the way. I climbed into my car, slamming the door harder than necessary. As I drove off toward Maya’s, I caught one last glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. Still leaning casually against his car, that smug grin tugging at his lips. Arrogant. Infuriating. Completely impossible. And yet, the tiniest spark of curiosity lingered where my anger should’ve burned.