“Thanks, you too.” There were other things I wanted to say to him, but with Luca and Ponytail watching us I could barely utter a word without feeling self-conscious.
“We don’t need luck,” Luca interrupted, prompting another exasperated thump from Nic.
“Luca,” Ponytail whined. His voice was abnormally high and not unlike Marge Simpson’s, and for a terrifying moment I thought I was going to laugh in his face. He frowned, and his eyebrows bled into one fuzzy caterpillar above coffee-colored eyes. “Can we just go register?”
“Yeah, let’s go, Gino. We shouldn’t be fraternizing with our competition anyway.” Luca elbowed Nic as he retreated. “Andiamo, Loverboy.”
“I should probably go get ready,” Nic offered apologetically. “Wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of our wonderful dictator.”
“Same here,” I said, but both of us still lingered. “Where’s the rest of your team anyway? Don’t you have a fifth player?”
He shook his head with more casualness than I was expecting. I was hoping he’d mention the fifth brother, at least give me a clue as to why he hadn’t come or even that he did, in fact, exist, and I hadn’t imagined a creepy ghost boy at the window that first night. “We’re a foursome.”
“So you’re at a disadvantage,” I noted. “That’s a risky move.”
Nic did something with his eyes that made the flecks of gold inside them glisten. I wasn’t sure if it was a secret superpower or the effect of the sun, but it was damn effective. And a little jarring, though I still couldn’t figure out why.
“You’re welcome to be our number five,” he whispered conspiratorially. “I promise I’ll keep Luca away from you.”
I bit my lip to keep my smile from bordering on disturbing. “I’m not sure Millie would ever forgive me if I jumped ship.”
“Ah, I see.” He feigned the look of a puppy that had just been kicked. “You’re too noble for that.”
“And surely you’re too honorable to steal me from her.”
“No, I’m not.”
I felt a blush rise in my cheeks. “Well, I’ll have to be honorable enough for both of us, then. Besides,” I added, trying to justify my refusal to myself, “we’re up in a minute, and we’ve already missed our strategy session. I don’t want to annoy the rest of my team any more than I already have.”
“Where are they?”
I gestured behind me at Alex and the rest of the yellow vests, who were in the middle of an intense set of jumping jacks.
Nic’s smile faded. “That blond guy?”
“That’s Millie’s brother and two of his friends. I think she bribed them into letting us on their team.”
Nic studied Alex and the others as they started to bend themselves into elaborate stretches. “I’m sure the bribe wasn’t necessary.”
“Soph.” Millie was back and tugging on my arm. “We gotta go. Our game is about to start.”
Dom had stepped away from her and I caught a glimpse of his scar again. Though he couldn’t have been much older than us, something about it aged him, made him other than what he appeared. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. He caught me watching him and smirked, his expression suddenly wolfish.
I looked away, embarrassed.
“See you guys on the court!” Millie pulled me with her, wiggling her butt a lot more than she usually did as she walked.
When I waved at Nic he was still staring at Alex. He didn’t wave back.
* * *
We won our first game in time to watch the Crimson Falcons play Saved by the Balls on the opposite court. The Priestly brothers were fascinating to watch; even Alex, who had expressed a deliberate disinterest in them since their arrival, was glued to the game. Nic and Dom were the most obviously athletic, whipping up the court in flashes of red. They scored most of their baskets, only occasionally deferring to Gino, who seemed to be more adept at intimidating the other players than actually playing against them. Maybe it was the ponytail.
Luca glided around the sidelines, and when the opportune moment arose, he’d strike from the shadows like a viper, snatching the ball out of the opposition’s hands before the other player even had time to notice Luca was there. But that’s all he did: intercept. I didn’t see him make one single basket. He didn’t even break a sweat.
Our game against Don’t Hassle the Hoff started before the Priestly game finished, though it was clear that, like us, they would be advancing to the next round. We won by a comfortable margin of 62–39. Alex did most of the work, followed by Foxy and then Robbie. Millie was a very distant last, but she made it clear she didn’t care. She was there to make an appearance, and if her fingers happened to brush against a basketball by accident, then fine.
We watched the Priestly brothers win their second game with more ease than we did. In our third game we were up against the Thunder Squirrels. I became acutely aware of Nic’s presence on the sidelines and decided to make more of a conscious effort this time. Millie seemed to have concocted a similar plan, because for once she wasn’t squealing and running away from the ball. She was actually chasing it.
By the end of our third quarter, the brothers were on the other court, winning their game as well, which meant both of our teams were going to the finals.
Crap,” Millie said. The short parts of her bangs had frizzed out and she was frantically fixing her hair as we lingered on the court. “I don’t want to play against Dom. He’ll see how terrible I am and then he won’t come to my house party next week.”