The Color Of Grace Read Free Page B

my head in instant denial because no way did that
seem possible. He looked, and smiled, and laughed too perfectly to be anything
other than a perfect athlete as well. But as a referee tossed the ball in the
air and the game began, Ryder Yates remained on the bench. One of his teammates
jumped up and swatted the ball to another teammate. Southeast passed down
court, and two tosses later, they made a basket. All within the first four
seconds of the game.
    Bridget groaned. “We’re going to get massacred.”
    “He’s not starting,” was all I could utter.
    “Well, if he’s that sucky of a player, then I really wish he
would start. How am I supposed to get any good pictures if we’re going to get
beaten to a bloody pulp?”
    I blinked at my friend. “He doesn’t suck.” I’m not sure why
I sounded so defensive. As far as I knew, Ryder Yates was the worst player to
join a basketball team.
    Bridget glanced at me, her eyebrows crinkling to let me know
how insane she found my statement. “If he doesn’t suck, then why’d you tell him
you weren’t interested?”
    I sputtered, unable to believe she didn’t already understand
my position. Finally, I was able to form actual words. “Well…well…what would you   say if Zac Efron walked up to you right now
and asked you out?” I knew her fascination with the movie star, so I used him
as an example.
    Bridget snorted. “I’d ask him to hold on a second before I
dropped to my knees and thanked the Lord for answering my prayers.”
    I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Never mind.”
    She didn’t get it. But, honestly, what were the chances of
Zac Efron leaving Hollywood,
or wherever he was from, and appearing in our school? I hadn’t asked her a
realistic hypothetical question. What had happened to me with Ryder Yates was
real—way too real—so in my opinion, I was justifiably freaked out to the point
of telling him I wasn’t interested and then running off. My reaction mortified
me, true, but I still felt warranted in what I’d done.
    Next to me, Bridget titled her head as she studied Ryder
Yates hard. “He does look a little like my Zac, doesn’t he?”
    I surged to my feet with the need to widen some space
between my best friend and me. “I’m going to take some pictures.”
    “Grace,” Bridget called after me. Her voice was apologetic,
making me think maybe she comprehended my panic after all. But my adrenal
glands remained cranked all the way to flight so I was forced to flee on.
    I waved over my shoulder and kept a steady pace past
Hillsburg’s cheerleaders and screaming fans to the opposite side of the gym of
where I’d stationed myself earlier. Feeling like this would be a fresh start at
taking a few photos, I hauled in a deep breath. After hooking my neck strap
over my head, I lifted the camera, only to focus on number forty-two just as a
referee waved him into the game.
    I gasped and jerked the camera down. He was going to play. I
was going to get to see him play.
    And boy did he play.
    He might not have been the best athlete on the floor, but
what he lacked in talent, he made up for in enthusiasm. When Southeast scored
another two points, Hillsburg took possession of the ball. We no sooner passed
it in bounds before Ryder Yates appeared, whacking it out of our control. He
wasn’t able to recover the ball, but another Southeast player did. Ryder hauled
his hiney up court and was the first to reach the other end. A teammate heaved
the ball his way. He caught it and dribbled in for a basket, only for a
Hillsburg senior to foul him.
    As the shot went astray, Ryder Yates and the Hillsburg
player became tangled in a wad of arms and legs. They tumbled to the floor,
rolling and skidding out of bounds on their backs, nearly torpedoing into my
legs and taking me out with them. I leapt back, narrowly saving myself, and my
camera.
    Number forty-two looked up just as the momentum of his slide
gave out. Our gazes met.
    When he recognized me, he gave a grin that