Chasing Fate

Chapter One

"You can't shoot, you can't score, you will beat us NEVERMORE! Goooo Ravens! Hurrrray!" I chanted from the sidelines, hoping in sync with the other cheerleaders as we reached the last syllable. The players ran back onto the Court, and the riled up audience cheered. I smiled at my Mom and Dad and my little sister, sitting in the stands across from me.

"Go Scott!" I cheered for my best friend, Sawyer Scott. He turned around and grinned at me, his free shot swinging into the net as he did so.

"Let's go Ravens!" we said. Clap clap clap clap clap.

"Let's go Ravens!" Clap clap clap clap clap. The audience began to chant and clap with us.

On the wall of records I saw my uncle's name printed beside his scoring record-Nathan Scott. Across from his, I saw the only tie in the history of Tree Hill-his big brother, Lucas Scott. And another honouring the longest serving coach in our history-Brian Durham, the coach of my father's day.

"Get open!" called Uncle Nathan from the sidelines. After retiring from his career as a professional basketball player he'd come here, to teach everything he knew. After all, he was only thirty-four or so.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see my big sister, Jenny, swish her long brown hair and gaze distractedly at the game. I could tell her thoughts weren't on it but on her rebellious, moody boyfriend Rhys.

As Sawyer grabbed the ball in the final five seconds, he threw it from beyond the three point line-they were down two points. It was hit or miss.

The noise of the gym plummeted as the ball soared towards the net. I held my breath as it got closer. I glanced at him, gazing at it. Finally, after a hundred years it reached the ball, bouncing off the backboard, neatly into the net. He punched a fist in the air as his teammates surrounded him and I and my fellow cheerleaders burst into song.

I ran toward him as the gym began to empty and into his open arms.

"That was awesome!" I said encouragingly.

"Thanks. You going to the party?" he asked. I nodded.

"Of course. Want to come with me and Jenny?" I asked.

"Hey guys. Where are you headed?" asked Mom as she and Dad ambled over with my sister Lauren.

"Party at Hoffman's house. Back by..?" I said, directing my question at my father. He was protective of me and my sisters.

"Midnight," he said firmly.

"Okay. Jenny and I have the car, we're taking Sawyer," I said. They both nodded.

"Can I come?" asked Lauren eagerly. I glanced at my Mom.

"No. Maybe some other time," she said soothingly as Lauren began to pout. Lauren was younger than Jenny and I, only in grade nine.

"Fine. Is Tess here?" she asked, referring to her own best friend, Sawyer's younger sister.

"No, she's at home. Maybe you could go home with my mom and dad?" he suggested. She blushed at his words.

"Okay, if they don't mind," she said.

"They won't," said Sawyer positively. Jenny, Sawyer, Lauren, Tess and I had all grown up together, almost in one big family, even including the years that Nathan had lived in Charlotte playing basketball.

"Sawyer's right. Tess will be glad to see you sweetie," said Aunt Haley, coming up behind us. I hugged her.

"Don't stay out too late, all right?" Uncle Nathan advised. Sawyer nodded.

"Yeah. I have an early workout tomorrow," responded his son.

"Your choice," he said cheerily. I looked between the two of them-they were so much alike, with the colour of their eyes and hair and their similar features. Sawyer had almost none of his mother in him.

I hugged my little sister goodbye as I walked off with. I smiled ruefully-she was two whole years younger, but at least three inches taller. Both of our parents were tall, as was Jenny. I'd always been the shrimp of the family.

The three of us got into the car that Jenny and I shared and drove the Jared Hoffman's mansion. We spent the evening there, drinking and playing games that involved confessing dirty secrets and making out. Sawyer drove us home at midnight, and helped me get Jenny into bed, who was never able to stay up late, especially when she'd been drinking.

I halted as I passed our parent's closed door. I could hear them conversing in whispers, laughing occasionally. They'd been married for almost seventeen years-and they were only about thirty-four. Most of my friend's mothers were in their late forties. Hearing my parents like this, talking happily, always gave me a sense of extreme contentment.