Maybe it was the chilling temperature in Northwood's gymnasium that tempted me to blow hot air on my stiff, freezing fingers, or maybe it was the pale and flickering light inside the room, but I soon felt myself drifting to sleep as I tried to keep up with the championship game.

What finally jolted me wide awake was Coach William calling a timeout and turning to Arson after one of the newest players got kicked out of the game because of a string of fouls.

Coach William's look was hesitant as he asked the question most of us had been expecting for days. "Do you think you can do it?"

Do you think you can do it?

The question echoed in my head and I wondered if Arson was as full of doubts as I was. Not about him, I believed in him. Doubts about myself, because I was a much more difficult person to trust than he was.

Coach waited for Arson's response, and maybe he expected a negative one, but I knew that Arson wouldn't miss this opportunity. He barely spared a glance at his injured wrist as he jogged onto the court.

He joined his teammates and he instantly became the captain, though unofficially. He didn't need the title; he was a leader at heart. He gave them tips based on their previous moves, listened to Bradley and Jimmy's suggestions, communicated new tactics, and hyped them up.

I was suddenly much more invested in the game as I watched the jersey labeled with a huge number six run around on the court. I knew he would do great. It was Arson. I couldn't doubt him.

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We didn't win, but it felt like we did. Northwood might have gotten the cup, but Arson played in the last game and to me, that was already a win.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who felt this way. Brooklyn ran down the stairs next to the reddish-brown stadium seats and walked over to the players, ignoring the curious stares of the crowd, the coaches, and the teams.

He turned and watched her walk up to him, confused. Before he or anyone else could react, she wrapped her arms around his neck, slightly tilting down his head, and kissed him.

"Ooh"s, gasps, and cheers erupted from the crowd. And if I had been bolder, I would have clapped right along with the rest of his team as they whistled and hooted.

Arson's ears and cheeks were tinged red when she pulled away.

She mumbled something to him and the curious spectator in me wished I had heard what she said.

Much later that evening, we all sat on the grass of the park, eating ice cream from Gabriel's truck as a mini-celebration.

"I was pretty much convinced we would win up till the last minute," Jimmy said, digging into his sister's ice cream cup with his spoon. "Losing sucks."

"Hey! Back off." Jayce shifted, shielding her cup from him. "Get your own."

"Their chemistry was insane," Arson said. "They deserved to win. Besides, you—" He pointed his spoon toward Jimmy— "have two more years. Two more shots at getting us the tournament cup. We haven't won in six years. Fixing our team is now your responsibility, captain."

"One tip," Matthew said, in-between bites of his multicolored ice pop. "Stay in the game and you'll be fine."

Jimmy scowled. "I've been doing much better."

"Yeah, you have." Arson fist-bumped him. "You've been impressive, Jim. I'm so proud." He held his hands against his heart and blinked fast as if he was holding back tears.

"He's not that good," Jayce huffed.

"Yes, he is," Bradley said, slightly nudging her.

"You were a great co-captain too," Arson told him, his face suddenly serious.

He had apologized on multiple occasions already for knocking Bradley into the wall, but he still felt bad.

Bradley nodded with a smile. "I learned from the best."

Matthew's laughter cut through the fading-but-still-present tension between Arson and Bradley.

"Okay, Arson. Tell the story, you know, for those who weren't here," Matthew said, vaguely motioning towards Avan, Henry, and Jacob.

"At this point, I think you know it better than I do. Go ahead."

"Okay, so," Matthew started, "Brooklyn ran down to the courts and—"

"Not that story!" Arson cut in, a blush visible on his cheeks, even though it was getting darker outside.

Matthew chuckled. "Fine. So, we were walking out of the gym and Arson stopped to hold the door open because, you know, he's Arson. A man was coming out just then and he said—"

Matthew sat up straighter and cleared his throat to try to do an impression of the man's voice. "Hold on, are you right-handed? Arson was confused but answered yes. The man asked why he played with his left hand and Arson explained the injury. He was so impressed that Arson had been able to play so well. The man told him that he was a scout for a university and that he would come to watch Arson play next practice."

"That's insane. Congratulations." Jacob leaned over to give him a pat on the shoulder.

"Well, it's not like I got the spot yet. I still have to impress him at practice."

"I know you'll get it," Brooklyn told him. "You deserve it."

Arson looked down. He was trying to hide a smile, but he didn't do a great job at it. It was still very obvious.

"Okay, but what was that Brooklyn story?" Jacob asked. "I demand to know."

Matthew opened his mouth and Arson held up his hand to stop him.

"Don't you dare."

Matthew turned to Jacob and stage-whispered, "I will tell you when he's not around."

I couldn't help but laugh. Avan hadn't looked particularly happy all day, but he was laughing now too.

I heard Coach William's question resound in my brain again. Do you think you can do it? And as I relaxed in the company of my friends that night, I decided that maybe I could.

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I woke up to the sound of an off-key version of the Happy Birthday song, the next morning.

Groaning, I tried to go back to sleep when something wet fell on my nose. I opened my eyes and made out the blurry face of Dad and Arson.

I removed a giant and sticky number 8 off my nose and stared back at them in disbelief.

"Sorry, it fell off the cake." Arson gave me a sheepish smile, pointing to the "1" left on the slice of cake he was carrying on a plate.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Dad said, and the joy I saw sparkling in his eyes put me in a good mood as well.

His cheerfulness had always been contagious to me, and it had been a long time since I saw him this happy.

"Is that a gray lock of hair I see?" Arson gasped, pointing to a non-existent strand in my hair. "Man, you're getting old!"

I swatted his hand away and removed some of the books from my nightstand to make space for the cake as I headed to the bathroom.

"By the way," Dad said and I turned around, "your mother left you a message."

Dad had seen her twice since the first time they had lunch, but I didn't want to see her. Especially when I learned that she had a son and that she was considering moving back to North Carolina.

"You baked the cake?" I asked, ignoring his sentence. "It smells so good. I can't wait to try it."

From the simple nod of his head, I knew he realized that I changed the subject on purpose and he didn't insist.

Arson raised his eyebrows at our exchange. "She hasn't talked to her yet?" I heard him ask Dad as I went into the bathroom.

I had done everything I could possibly have done to avoid my mother. When she came to see Dad the second time, I disappeared into the bathroom and didn't come out until she left. I knew I would have to talk to her sooner or later. But, for some reason, later seemed much more appealing.

After I cleaned up a little and made my bed, I jogged downstairs, trying not to trip over.

I wasn't surprised when Arson looked up at me with his face stained in fluffy whipped cream and with his fingers full of the homemade cake.

"Don't leave," he said when he noticed that I was walking away, trying to grab my wrist. "I have your birthday gift right here."

I held up my hands as I turned around to prevent his cake-stained hands from getting a hold of mine.

"Right where?"

He placed what was left of his slice of cake on the table, and wiped his hands and his face clean with a napkin. He left out some spots on his nose and forehead, but telling him would ruin the fun.

He touched all his jean pockets and his eyes widened, then he remembered to look in the pocket of his jersey.

I saw two matching necklaces in his hand. "So," he said, "I had this whole speech prepared about how those were symbolisms for, you know, how you would always be near my heart even if we might not see much of each other after graduation. But, I remembered that you don't like corny speeches, so here." He extended one to me then took it away before I could grab it.

"Or," he went on, "I could just get you another gift if you don't like this one."

"Don't be ridiculous." I took one from his grip and admired the "A" carved onto it in his messy handwriting.

He motioned to the 'A' on his necklace. "Naturally, the "A"s stand for Arson and Ava, but then again, it also means Awesome, like me, and Awkward, like you."

I scowled at him, putting mine on. "How convenient that "A" is also the first letter in Annoying."

He grinned and ruffled my hair before I swatted his hand away.

"Let's go for a hug now." He laughed when he noticed me backing away. "Come on, you know you want to."

"I do not." I scoffed and walked past him to look for Dad.

When I finally found him outside, he was standing beside a new car in our garage. My eyes widened when I recognized the model. I had talked about it with Uncle David for hours when Riley and I went to the Apple Festival in Tennessee, two years ago. I always told him I wanted a GMC that looked exactly like his.

"That's... uh, pretty, Dad. I had no idea you were into this kind of car."

He smiled, amused. "It's not mine."

"What?"

"Let's say that it was David's idea."

He tossed the key at me and as I contemplated the shiny keystone, I struggled to push back the memories that invaded my brain regardless of my efforts.

Riley was squealing. "Are you serious? You're giving me a car?"

"Ava suggested it," Dad had said with a smile. "I couldn't argue with her logic."

"I can't wait to show it to Avan. He'll love it."

"Okay, just don't mess up the car," I had joked.

It was the last time I ever saw her. That was the last thing I ever said to her. Don't mess up the car.

The key now seemed too hot in my hands, as though it was burning my flesh.

Once again, Coach William's words replayed in my head. Do you think you can do it? The key slipped through my fingers, as a voice deep inside me answered, "No, I can't."

A/N: Thanks for reading!

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading it too.

Thank you for your support! I cannot believe this book is almost over. *cries hysterically*

-D.T. ➷