“Sure.”
“Well, then you must have noticed that my free-throw shooting percentage was low.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t calculating the percentage. You missed some and you made some.”
“I shot sixty-two percent,” Rob told her.
“That sounds pretty good.”
He shook his head. “It isn’t,” he said. “A great free-throw shooter shoots eighty or ninety percent. My average is around seventy-five. Today was an off day. I can do better.”
“And that’s what you’re doing here?”
He nodded. “I’ll go when I make ten in a row,” he said.
“Do you do this after every game?” In spite of herself, in spite of her intention to go straight home and study, she found herself moving into the practice gym to stand beneath the basket.
Rob lined up another shot. This one bounced off the rim and back into his hands, and he groaned.
“That was close,” Thea encouraged.
Rob laughed. “Close isn’t any good,” he said. “I can’t ask the referees to give me credit for a foul shot because it was close.”
He shot again. This one went straight through the net without touching the backboard. Thea caught it and bounce-passed it back to him.
“Thanks,” he said
“No problem.”
He shot again. Another make. “So what are you doing here after the game?” he asked. “I figured everyone would be gone by now.”
“Yeah, they are,” she said. “I was about to head home myself, but then I heard you in here and decided to come see what was up.”
He shot again. Another score. She passed the ball back to him.
“I don’t usually see you at basketball games,” he said. “I didn’t know you were into the sport.”
“You notice who’s at the games?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Our crowds aren’t all that big. And besides, most of the students who come to the games usually show up at the house parties afterward.” He dribbled a few times. “And I’ve never seen you at any of those.”
“It’s not really my scene,” Thea admitted.
“How come? You don’t like parties?”
“Not much.” It was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth—she had never really felt welcome at those parties.
“There’s one tonight,” he said. “You could come along, if you wanted.”
She laughed. She had gone most of her high school career without being invited to any big parties, and now she’d gotten two invites in one night—if you wanted to count Stephanie’s, that was. It wasn’t a real invite. “You’re talking about the party at Jillian’s, right?” she asked.
He nodded. “She always has a big bash after the ball games, and it’s especially good when we win. You should come along. It’ll be fun.”
She shook her head. “I really can’t,” she said. “I have to study. Chem.”
“You take chemistry?”
She nodded.