moment before rivalry
573 Words
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ACT II, SCENE I
Setting:
North Ridge Junior High Gym. Late afternoon. Sunlight slants through high windows, casting long lines on the polished court. The gym is nearly empty—just the echo of basketballs hitting the floor and the squeak of sneakers.
At Rise:
TYLER is alone on the court. Sweat drenches his shirt. He moves between cones, running drills, shooting threes. He breathes hard but keeps pushing—focused, driven. The scoreboard clock is off. There’s only him, the hoop, and the pressure.
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TYLER (to himself, panting):
One more. No hesitation.
(He steps back beyond the arc, sets his feet, shoots—swish.)
TYLER:
That’s it. That’s what I need.
(He grabs the ball, dribbles to the left corner, fakes a defender that isn’t there, spins, and sinks another.)
TYLER (mutters):
Fast hands. Fast feet. California’s waiting.
(He glances toward the bleachers—empty—but in his mind, they're full. The pressure mounts. He imagines a crowd, cameras, scouts, Ava.)
TYLER (softly):
She’s probably running drills right now too.
(He picks up the pace. Crossover. Pull-up jumper. Miss. He groans, snatches the rebound, tries again—swish.)
TYLER (shaking his head):
Can’t miss. Not now. Not with her watching.
(The door at the far end creaks open. Enter COACH PATEL, clipboard in hand. He watches Tyler shoot for a beat before speaking.)
COACH PATEL:
You wear out the floor, it’s coming out of your allowance.
TYLER (grinning breathlessly):
Just prepping for Friday. Gotta make sure the girls team doesn’t embarrass us.
COACH PATEL (walks closer):
You know they’ve been talking a lot of smack. Ava’s been draining corner threes like she invented them.
TYLER:
Yeah. I’ve seen her.
(He shoots again. Misses. He curses softly.)
COACH PATEL:
You alright, McCall?
TYLER:
Just tired. Focused. Trying to get sharper before the trip.
COACH PATEL (quietly):
This game—it’s just for fun. One last scrimmage before you fly out. Don’t make it life or death.
TYLER (nods, but it’s not convincing):
Right. Fun.
(He shoots again—misses. He catches the rebound and slams it hard against the floor, frustration boiling over.)
COACH PATEL (stepping in):
Hey. What’s going on?
TYLER:
I dunno, Coach. I keep thinking about the game… about Ava. It's like—I finally figured her out and now I’m leaving.
COACH PATEL (crosses arms):
You figured her out?
TYLER (quietly):
Okay, not completely. But we were finally getting somewhere. I used to think she hated me. Now it’s like… I miss her and I haven’t even left yet.
COACH PATEL (sits on bench):
Let me tell you something about timing, McCall. It’s never perfect. You’re gonna have games where everything clicks… and some where the shot rims out every time. Doesn’t mean you stop shooting.
TYLER:
So… play the game anyway?
COACH PATEL:
Exactly. Let her see who you are on the court. And if you’re lucky, maybe she’ll show you who she is too.
(A long pause. TYLER picks up the ball and walks to the top of the key. He breathes. Shoots. Swish.)
TYLER (softly):
Alright. Let’s play.
COACH PATEL (heading out):
That’s more like it. And McCall?
TYLER (turning):
Yeah?
COACH PATEL:
You ever get too nervous out there… just remember—it’s still just you and the hoop.
(TYLER nods. The coach exits. TYLER stands alone in the gym again. He bounces the ball once. Twice. Then shoots from deep.)
BLACKOUT.
- Writer
