Pass, Shoot, Score...?

• Ruby Levett, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

I walk onto the basketball court, determination flowing through my veins. It’s the grand final and my team, the Vultures, are up against the dreaded Pulverisers. We're in the second half of our game and I'm yet to score a goal. I hope that this will be my chance to prove myself as a worthy player of our team.
The scores are currently extremely close; the Pulverisers are sitting on 58, while we are close behind on 56. The winning team get medals and their team name engraved on a plaque, so everybody’s feeling pretty competitive. As I stand in front of number 9 on the opposite team (it is, unfortunately, the Pulverisers’ ball) I try to focus on winning and scoring a goal. The umpire hands the ball to the girl standing on the sideline, number 15, and she throws it in.
Our best player, Katherine, runs forward and intercepts the ball. She runs down the court, through the swarm of defenders, and shoots.
The ball practically floats in without even touching the ring. I congratulate Katherine as she runs past me, but can’t help feeling annoyed that I wasn’t the one to score the goal. Oh, well.
Now the ball is back to the Pulverisers. My team runs back to their goal, and we ready ourselves to attack. Now the scores are neck-and-neck; we have a 50/50 chance of winning! I imagine myself scoring the winning goal, and sigh. As if. Still, it won’t hurt to try.
Number 53 from the Pulverisers’ throws in the ball, which goes to number 5. She dribbles down the court and takes a shot from just inside the three pointer line.
The ball, as with Katherine’s shot, swishes into the hoop effortlessly. Now we're one goal behind - it only makes me more determined.
The ball goes back to my team and this time, Mckenna, our second-best player, gets a goal. The rest of the team congratulate her and high five her whilst I watch on wistfully. If only that were me.
My attention floats back to the game. The scores are tied, and there’s a minute to win it.
Number 9 from the Pulverisers’ team takes the ball from the sideline and wastes no time throwing it in. I dash forward just in time to catch it. I consider passing it for a fleeting second, when I decide that I’m going to be the one to score the winning goal.
I dribble down the court towards the goals, ignoring the shouts from my teammates. The opposition don’t even try to defend me as I take a shot in the final ten seconds of the game.
The ball flies through the air; all is silent for a moment. It bounces around the rim of the hoop, teeters on the edge, then falls into the net. A cheer erupts, but not from the Vultures. I don’t believe it. It just can’t be! I’ve scored the winning goal…
For the other team.