Court Dreams
1 My name’s Jace, but everyone calls me Wild. Coach gave me that nickname. “Why Wild?” I asked one day. He just smiled and said, “Because you play like the ball’s on fire.” I wasn’t sure if he meant that as a compliment, but hey, I took it.
2 Thing is, Wild works for me. I’m always going 100 miles an hour, on and off the court. Sometimes it’s good. Like when I stole the ball last week and hit a fast break layup. Sometimes it’s bad. Like when I tried to dunk during gym class and almost took out the backboard.
3 “Jace, you’re gonna break something—like your neck,” my cousin Rell said after watching me try a spin move that ended with me on the floor. But that’s how I am. Always trying. Always pushing.
4 I wasn’t on the team or anything. Not yet. Just a kid who stayed late at the park, shooting bricks and airballs until my form didn’t feel so awkward.
5 Then one day, Coach saw me messing around after school. He leaned on the fence, watching. “You got game, Wild. But it’s raw.” I stopped mid-shot, the ball bouncing away. “What’s that mean?”
6 “Means you’ve got potential. Tryouts are next week. Don’t embarrass yourself.” And just like that, he walked off, leaving me staring after him.
7 Tryouts came, and I showed up. Didn’t think I would, but something about Coach’s words stuck in my head. I wasn’t the tallest or the strongest, but I could hustle, and hustle’s something you can’t fake.
8 First drill was dribbling. Easy, right? Wrong. Coach blew his whistle every time the ball got away from someone, and I swear that thing never left his mouth. Then came the passing drill, and that’s where I met Kai.
9 She caught every ball like it was a gift, her ponytail swinging like she was in a commercial or something. Meanwhile, I was over here fumbling passes like a little kid. “Nice hands, Wild,” she said, smirking.
10 “I’m just warming up,” I shot back. Truth was, I was dying to impress her. And Coach. And maybe even myself.
11 Next up was scrimmage. That’s where I shined—or at least I tried to. I got one clean steal, a fast break, and then…airball. I felt my face go hot as the ball bounced off the backboard.
12 After the game, Kai came up to me. “Not bad, Wild. But you gotta chill. You’re moving too fast out there.” I shrugged. “Fast is what I do.” She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but sometimes, you gotta slow down to catch up.”
13 Her words stuck with me. I didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. I was always going full speed, like I was trying to prove something. To who, though?
14 That night, I told my mom about tryouts. “You make the team?” she asked, not even looking up from her book. “Don’t know yet,” I said. She just nodded, like she already figured I’d quit before the first game.
15 I didn’t, though. The next day, I came back. And the next. Each time, I got a little better. My passes stopped flying into the bleachers, and my layups actually started dropping.
16 Kai noticed. “Not bad, Wild,” she said after practice one day. “You might actually belong here.” I grinned. “Might? Girl, I’m taking your spot.” She laughed. “In your dreams.”
17 Finally, it was the last day of tryouts. Coach split us into teams for one last scrimmage. This time, I didn’t panic. I slowed down, saw the court, and made the right plays.
18 By the end of the game, even Kai was nodding in approval. “Okay, Wild. You’re alright.” That felt better than any shot I made.
19 When Coach read the list of who made the team, my name was there. “Told you,” I whispered to Kai as we walked out. She rolled her eyes but smiled.
20 Now, when I hit the court, it’s not just about showing off. It’s about playing smart. Playing for my team. And proving, every day, that Wild means something more than reckless. It means heart.