situation,” he said. “You weren’t ready; you were cold. I’m as much to blame as you are.”
That hadn’t made Dunk feel any better. Athletes are supposed to thrive on tough situations. He’d worked hard to be a guy that a coach and a team could count on. At least he thought he had.
So Dunk had no ambition to get off that bench. He was nearly in shock. The biggest upset possible had been right in their grasp, and he was the one who had squandered it.
“Are you stuck there?” came a cheery, familiar voice. Aunt Krystal was standing in front of him; he could tell by her red running shoes even though he didn’t lift his head.
Dunk shook his head very slowly. “Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey, yourself.”
Now the tears came, filling his eyes and making his throat feel tight. He wiped at his eyes with his fists and sniffed. He glanced up at Krystal with a scowl that wasn’t meant for her but was necessary to keep him from sobbing.
“I know how you feel,” Krystal said. “Believe me.”
Dunk looked back at the floor.
“I could drive you to the hotel if you want,” she said.
Dunk shook his head again. “I’ll take the bus with the team.”
“I hoped you would.”
“Did you find a room?”
“Yeah, at the Sea Breeze, a block away from where you’re staying.” She sat next to him and touched his shoulder.
“I let everybody down,” he said.
Krystal didn’t say anything to disagree. He glanced over at her and saw that she was thinking about how to respond. The worst thing she could have said was, “No you didn’t” or “It’s no big deal.” He knew what he’d done. He knew how much it mattered.
So they both sat there quietly. Dunk felt miserable, but he was glad to see that Krystal could respect that feeling and not try to console him. She knew how much it mattered, too.
Dunk took the first full breath he’d allowed himself since the game ended. He looked up. Only a few people remained in the gym. Coach Temple was near the door talking to one of the Camden coaches. All of Dunk’s teammates were outside.
“Guess we better go,” Dunk said.
“Guess so. I’ll see you at the hotel,” Krystal said. “You guys going out for dinner or to the Boardwalk or what?”
“I got no appetite. I don’t know what those guys are doing. I don’t feel like doing anything .”
“You have another game in the morning.”
Dunk grimaced and let out his breath in a hurry. “That’s just what I need,” he said, meaning quite the opposite. “Maybe I can waste that opportunity, too.”
Dunk was the last one on the bus, walking down the aisle past his teammates, who were spread out and dead-quiet, staring out the windows or at the seats in front of them.
Fiorelli stuck out his hand supportively for Dunk to smack, and Lamont slid over to make room next to him.
“Thanks,” Dunk said, as much for not shunning him as for making room.
Lamont hadn’t even played in the game, but he looked as glum as the starters. Stars or subs, they all wanted to win. They all had the same disappointment, knowing how close they’d come. They all would have shared that same triumph.
The bus pulled out of the YMCA parking lot.
Lamont put out his fist and Dunk met it with his. “No shame,” Lamont said softly. “We came this close”—he held his thumb and first finger an eighth of an inch apart—“to beating the best team in the state.”
“They knew we had ’em beat,” Willie said fiercely, kneeling on the seat in front of them and peering over. “You could see it on their faces. They thought they were going down.”
Lamont and Dunk both nodded. Willie sat back down.
They all fell silent after that. It was the quietest bus ride these guys had ever been on.
The team went to Denny’s for dinner. Dunk sat in a booth with Lamont and David and Miguel, but he barely picked at his hamburger and only ate a couple of fries.
After dinner, Willie and David left the room to join the others at the