Tournaments, Cocoa & One Wrong Move by Nancy N. Rue

Author:Nancy N. Rue [Rue, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-310-57748-5
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2010-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

My parents’ fight definitely had the potential to collapse my plan to get everything back. Who wouldn’t be taken out at the knees by her father thinking she took steroids on purpose and saying she couldn’t be trusted to make decisions—and implying that because of her, he had things to ‘deal with’?

But I kept thinking about what Ben said. He was the professional, right? And I thought about my mom. Okay, so she was only now getting to know me, but at least she didn’t carry on like a Doberman pinscher while she was doing it.

And there was RL. I read the same pages over and over, because that was all it would let me see—and I had the part I needed memorized.

Get up, my friend. Go on with your life. Your faith has not only healed you, it has saved you.

It said I only needed faith the size of a spot in my poppy-seed dressing. I had that much, didn’t I? I went to church—at least I did before I got hurt. Kara and I used to go to youth group—except when we had practice or a game or a tournament or I was at camp. I prayed before games. I used to. And I tried to be a good Christian—you know, by trying to help people. Right?

And now I had the plan. I decided it was a God plan, and I was going for it with everything I used to put into basketball. As long as I could stay away from words like “used to” and “loser,” as long as I could hear Yeshua saying, “Get up, my friend,” I could keep the Frenemy from paralyzing me.

And it was happening. I worked out at the Center on Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday at six in the morning while Mom sat in the Hangout Area with her coffee and her laptop and her hair tucked behind her ears. My range of motion was improving by more than a degree a day. Ben was going to be impressed.

In school my plan to make straight A’s was gaining momentum, except in Mr. Josephson’s class, where the best I could get so far was a B+. Boz said I was doing good to get that, but I wasn’t settling. I’d do better somehow.

I had faith.

Although it shrank below poppy-seed size a couple of times. Like when I turned a corner in the hall and literally ran into Coach Deetz. We stood there with the word awkward echoing between us until he said, “How you doin’, Cassidy?” If he had called me Brewster, maybe I would have said something besides, “I’m fine.” I might have said, “Please forgive me?”

I didn’t. I had to wait until I was worth forgiving.

The other time was when I saw Kara and Hilary and M.J. in the cafeteria, picking greasy pepperoni from their pizza slices instead of being off campus in a cozy booth. They were whispering like they were in a world of their own. I missed being in it.

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