Focus

By Tami Miller

Morgan and Kennedy have dreamt about playing in the state championship game their entire lives. Basketball is everything to this small town until they are ripped apart, and the girls end up on different sides. The team is faced with a divisive decision that could change the game forever. As the coaches are scrambling to pull their teams together, tragedy strikes at the heart of both teams. How much more can they take, and what lessons does the Lord have for them? Will they sink, or will they have the faith to walk on water?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685261382

Book preview

Table of Contents

Cover

Title

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

cover.jpg

Focus

Tami Miller

ISBN 978-1-68526-137-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68526-138-2 (Digital)

Copyright © 2022 Tami Miller

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Chapter 1

Swoosh!

Morgan and Kennedy both were out for the summer. To most kids in the ninth grade, that meant a beginning to summer, swimming pools, and lazy days spent lying in bed until all hours, and riding bikes all over town. But to Morgan and Kennedy, it meant only one thing: basketball. Their season had just ended in April with their freshman girls team going into the finals, which ended with a loss to their rival school Emmerson Junior High School. The girls vowed they would not take a single day off until the next season. That was their high school season. They made a pinky promise with each other that every single day of summer vacation would be spent making two thousand baskets a day.

Both Kennedy and Morgan walked out of the gym devastated after that loss. It was in the last few seconds of the game. The game was tied as the other team shot their free throws. She missed the first one and made the second. They were now ahead by one point. They only needed one basket, and Morgan had the ball.

Morgan had always been seen with a basketball in her hands it seemed. Her dad was the coach of the Lady Eagles, their local high school team. Morgan had spent hours in the gym with him when she was younger, shooting and dribbling. When she grew up, she knew only two things. She wanted to play basketball for her dad, and she wanted to win. She had a desire and drive to win that her dad had seen at an early age. She spent more time in the gym, practicing than any of his high school girls ever did. She was obsessed with women's basketball on television. UConn, Oregon, Duke, these were teams she could pull from memory. She knew their plays, stats, and players on demand. She knew their coaches and seldom missed any college games on television. She loved her basketball.

Morgan had the ball at half-court, and Brinley and Jamie were running an outlet play when they shot down the court as fast as they could. Trying to lose their defenders, Morgan would pass them the ball, and if everything goes right, they would draw all the defenders to them, and the other team would lose Morgan as she sprinted up the right side of the court. They would pass her the ball, and she would shoot her signature shot, a midrange two-point jump shot. And she never missed. Except for that day. They needed those two points to put them on top and be crowned the first-ever champions for Emmerson Middle school. But something happened.

Somewhere in the crowd, someone from the other team let out a screech, no, a scream that made everyone around jump. From the top of his twelve-year-old lungs, he screamed loud enough that the parking lot could have heard. It was just a distraction, of course, a perfectly timed scream from a taunting little brother of the other team. But the damage was done. As soon as Morgan heard that bloodcurdling scream, her head turned, her arms jerked around, and her whole body seemed to jump out of its skin all at the same time. The result—a total air ball. Not even touching a single piece of the net or backboard. A shot Morgan had made hundreds of times. An air ball. Morgan dropped to her knees, staring up at the scoreboard as tears welled up in her eyes. She was more mad than sad, of course. Morgan definitely hated losing, but this was more. She had that shot. That shot she practiced more than any other shot. Her dad trusted her when he drew that play-up, she never missed. Her teammates trusted her explicitly. It was her shot. But just not tonight. With tears trickling down her sweat-soaked cheeks, she looked around at her teammates who also stood staring up at the rim in disbelief. As Morgan began to stand up, her teammates started to walk with slumped shoulders and hanging heads over to their coaches and parents in disbelief.

They had lost the championship game. Morgan made a vow in her heart she would never miss that shot again. After that, she spent hours in the summer with Kennedy, her best friend and neighbor from down the street. Morgan and Kennedy sat outside one night talking. It was very late on a sticky hot summer night. They had just finished shooting, and they sat on the basketball court that Morgan's dad had built in their backyard. They made promises and vowed to keep each other accountable for the number of hours they spent on the court practicing this summer. They each set goals for how many balls they would shoot every day to ensure that missed opportunities would never happen again.

I think we need at least one thousand balls that we have to shoot this summer every day. Kennedy spoke. The girls were in their favorite spots on the outdoor court. They both lay side by side, their shoulders touching, feet pointed in opposite directions, staring straight up, and looking up into the heavens.

I was thinking more than that. I want to go all the way. I hated losing, Morgan said and turned to see Kennedy's reaction.

Well, duh. Kennedy giggled. Nobody loves losing. It was horrible. She paused. Nobody blames you, Morgan. Everyone trusts you, and if that shot had to happen, you're the only one we would have wanted to have the ball."

That meant a lot to Morgan, and she wiggled her shoulder to barely shoulder bump her friend. I know, and thank you, but it's more than that, Ken.

Morgan and Kennedy had been friends since Kennedy's family moved in long before either of the girls were even born. Their moms were best friends, and their dads were just as close. Morgan's nickname for Kennedy was Ken, and Kennedy's for Morgan was More. It was mostly because it was short for Morgan, but Kennedy silently thought the nickname became more of a motto to Morgan. She always wanted to give more, do more, and become more. Kennedy, on the other hand, was just in it for the fun. She loved basketball for sure, but she also loved painting, drawing, theater, and cooking. She wasn't ready to dedicate every waking hour to her basketball skills. She put in the time for practice, and she was good. Luckily she had some great height, and she was starting to shoot up like her mom who was five feet, eleven inches. But for Morgan, basketball was her thing. She didn't want to do theater or sing. She had no desire to learn how to run hurdles or throw a softball. Nothing was taking her focus off her passion—basketball and winning.

Morgan had her summer completely booked out week by week defined by one basketball skills camp or another. She was also a member of the coveted Traveling Flash team, a basketball skills team that played other elite teams all around the state as well as some surrounding states in tournaments that took up almost every weekend. She had talked Kennedy into a few of the tournaments as a sub. Sometimes, players weren't able to travel due to money or their parents' vacations, and they couldn't travel unless they had a few subs in case of injuries. The girls were asked to subpractice about half the time with the team and spent every day practicing with them that week if they knew they would be filling in for a game that weekend. Kennedy would play in four different tournaments through the summer. That meant she and Morgan would be spending a good amount of time shooting, so she kept her skills sharp for their games.

No, Ken, Morgan started, I really, really want to win. This is our summer leading into our sophomore year. It's a big year for college coaches to start looking to fill rosters a few years down the line. I want that spot. I want coaches to see me. I was thinking one thousand baskets a day.

Holy crud, More, that's gonna take hours!

Well, true. Morgan quickly did the math in her head. Let's start with two hundred a day and go from there.

Kennedy laughed. She knew full well Morgan intended on shooting that much and probably doubling it by the start of the season. She also knew she would be doing that exact thing with her best friend. It didn't matter that it wasn't her favorite or her passion. Morgan was her person, her best friend, the one you call with your first crush, your first kiss, walk through the fire, and all that. She was her person. It had been that way from the first moment she ever talked to Morgan.

Morgan was out shooting baskets. Well, shooting in the first grade isn't really shooting. Catching the ball up high and occasionally hitting the rim is more like it. Kennedy walked outside and sat out on her grass, holding her baby doll tight in her arms. Kennedy was very curious about this girl. Every time she would walk her baby around the driveway, there was always this girl who seemed to act more like a boy. She lived a few doors down. That girl that looked like a girl but acted like her brothers. Kennedy would peek out her pink polka-dot curtains that were on her bedroom windows at this girl who went out every day and bounced a ball. Kennedy was mesmerized at how long this girl could stay out there, playing with this ball. So one day, Kenney decided she would take her doll out and go sit on the grass and just watch her shoot. It seemed like she sat there for an hour before Morgan's concentration was broken, and she had to chase down a ball that landed over by the grass where Kennedy was sitting.

Hey, Morgan said with a then-toothless smile.

Kennedy looked up into those big hazel eyes of Morgan's and said, If you miss the basket a lot, why do you keep shooting it?

Morgan rolled her eyes at this new friend and said, Well, my dad says you miss 100 percent of the shots you don't take. I'm not sure how many is in a percent, but I will keep shooting until I start making more than I miss. One day I am going to be a ball player like the girls on my dads team, he said I can be on the team if I can shoot the ball.

Morgan looked down at her new friend, cracked a smile, and then asked the magic question, Do you want me to teach you how to shoot? Do you want to be on the team too? I'll ask my dad! You gotta leave the baby behind. There are no babies in basketball.

Kennedy carefully put her baby doll down and covered her with a blanket. I'll be right back, baby. She then whispered in her baby's ear, You just go to sleep now. I'm going to go be on a basketball team. Kennedy was elated and screamed with delight as she got up and followed Morgan to the court to start shooting.

That's the way it started, and that's the way it had been every day since—Morgan shooting the ball and Kennedy following right behind doing just what Morgan told her to do. She was a great coach. Morgan had learned through the years from her dad. He had multiple state championship games to his credit. Their high school girls' team had made it a record seven out of the fourteen years her dad had coached. They had never won the big one though. They had gone into overtime twice and gotten blown out a few times, but mostly they lose within a small margin just as the last seconds run out. The school was famous around the state for the coaching and the positive atmosphere that Coach B brings. That's short for Barry, Morgan's last name. His full name was Blaine Barry, so it could work for both. The girls loved to call him BB and would mispronounce and call him baby. That always drew lots of laughs when the mood was light and colorful, but he preferred Coach B. Morgan swore she will be in the state games when she gets into high school, and she had brought Kennedy along for the ride ever since, coaching, teaching, and supporting her best friend.

She concentrated her practices on ball handling and dribbling skills and ran sprints on the off-season with