Extra Basket-Chapter 135 - 122: Charlotte vs Lucas

August 2, 2010

Graves Gym – 3:12 PM

The heavy thud of a basketball echoed across the hardwood floor.

Thump. Thump. Thump. THUMP.

Lucas Graves was in full rhythm, his sweat-slicked arms pumping as he dribbled with speed and control. His footwork was sharp, honed, instinctive. He stepped back, dropped low, then launched into a sudden crossover, shifting the ball behind his back before spinning forward into the lane. One step, then two he rose into the air for a clean, one-handed air dunk, slamming it down with precision.

Charlotte stood by the entrance, arms crossed, one brow slightly raised as she watched.

(He became... stronger.)

Her thoughts whispered through her head, heavy with surprise and just a tinge of pride.

The younger brother she used to beat easily in the backyard court was now moving like a real athlete no, like a threat.

She watched as Lucas sprinted back to the top of the key, caught a self-passed bounce, then stopped on a dime. His body leaned back unnaturally—like something out of a highlight reel and he released the ball high over an invisible defender.

It was clean.

Swish.

(That was... Jordan’s airshoot form?) Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, impressed. (And the shooting stance... that’s Larry Bird’s technique. When did he master that?)

Lucas took a breath, then repeated the move, only this time, his crossover was even tighter. He ducked low, eyes focused like a hawk, then stepped to the side and launched another shot mid-air.

The ball arced smoothly.

Swish.

Charlotte finally stepped forward, arms crossed, sneakers tapping lightly on the polished wood.

"You’re not bad," she said, her voice calm but sharp cutting through the thick air of the empty gym.

Lucas turned mid-dribble, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Sis?"

She walked with the same cool confidence she always had. Her ponytail swung behind her like a banner, the navy and gold Thunderhawks logo shining proudly on her fitted warm-up shirt.

Her gaze didn’t leave his.

"When did you start mixing Larry and Jordan’s form?" she asked, a teasing smirk dancing at the edge of her lips.

Lucas wiped the sweat off his face with the bottom of his jersey and smiled.

"Just something I picked up. You know me... always watching film."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "You’re trying to impress someone, huh?"

Lucas gave a playful shrug, spinning the ball on one finger.

"Maybe. Or maybe I’m just tired of being in your shadow."

That made her eyebrows rise. Just a little.

"Is that a challenge?"

Lucas bounced the ball once with a sharp thud, then caught it on the return, grinning.

"You tell me."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, but a small, amused huff left her lips.

"Just so you know," she said, walking toward him and holding out her hand. "I’ve been training too. With Ethan. He taught me a few moves and some new fundamentals."

Lucas passed her the ball.

"I know," he said, steady. "That’s exactly why I want to play against you. I want to see if you’ve actually improved."

Charlotte scoffed as she caught the ball.

"Boastful."

Lucas crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, smirking.

"Confident."

"Cocky."

"Prepared."

Charlotte laughed. "Okay, okay—fine, let’s play. First to 7. Loser has to do the winner’s laundry for a week."

"Deal."

The energy between them shifted playful turned sharp. Familiar turned fierce.

This wasn’t just sibling fun anymore. This was something deeper.

(I’ve always been ahead of him,) Charlotte thought, stepping back and bouncing the ball, her hands adjusting to the grip. (But now... he’s looking at me like I’m the one who needs to catch up.)

"Let’s see what you got, Thunderhawk." Lucas grinned, backing into a defensive stance.

Charlotte gave no warning. She faked left, spun right, then jab-stepped quick, clean, just like Ethan had taught her. Lucas stayed on her, his eyes locked, but she stepped back and pulled up for a jumper.

Swish.

"One–zero." Charlotte smirked.

Lucas exhaled slowly, taking the ball back.

(Not bad. But now it’s my turn.)

He dribbled forward with pace, using that signature crossover he picked up from Darnell Fox. Charlotte stayed with him. He pivoted, faked the drive, then leaned back and launched a high-arcing shot in perfect Bird form.

Swish.

"One–one." Lucas said with a confident nod.

Charlotte blinked.

(Okay... that was actually textbook.)

The match continued Charlotte’s smooth footwork and midrange game clashing with Lucas’s flair and precise control. The gym was silent except for the squeak of sneakers, the bounce of the ball, and the occasional swish of the net.

Charlotte sized him up, then jab-stepped left. Lucas bit for a half-second just enough. She rose for a midrange jumper.

Swish.

"Two–one."

Lucas immediately answered back, using a behind-the-back dribble to freeze her. She recovered quickly, but he Euro-stepped around her, finishing with a scoop layup off the glass.

"Two–two."

They reset, breaths steady but sharp. Charlotte took the ball again and drove hard right, only to hit a sudden stop and spin into a fadeaway. Lucas was there but not close enough.

"Three–two."

Lucas dribbled slowly, then picked up speed with a tight crossover, then another Iverson-style. Charlotte’s stance wavered, and in that heartbeat, he cut baseline and floated in a reverse layup.

"Three–three."

Charlotte grinned, wiped sweat from her brow, and signaled with two fingers. Lucas narrowed his eyes.

She faked a stepback, then exploded forward, catching him off guard. As he backpedaled, she planted and pulled up from just inside the arc.

"Four–three."

Lucas chuckled. "You rehearsed that one, huh?"

Charlotte winked.

Next play, Lucas turned up the heat. He ran a hesitation dribble, baited her, then pulled up for a quick-release jumper, clean shot.

"Four–four."

Both were breathing heavier now, sneakers sliding on polished wood.

Charlotte caught the inbounds and gave Lucas a triple-threat look. She dribbled, stopped, pump-faked, Lucas didn’t bite. So, she reset, then dribbled left and used a jab-pull combo to create space. Another clean shot.

"Five–four."

Lucas smirked. "Alright. No more warmups."

He took the ball, hit a spin move, then went into a stepback three.

Clang—off the rim.

Charlotte grabbed the rebound, but Lucas poked it free mid-dribble and recovered it near half-court. He ran it back, crossed behind his back, and blew past her. One dribble, then—

Layup.

"Five–five."

By now, they were both drenched in sweat, eyes locked like two generals reading each other’s every move.

Lucas stepped back, ball in hand.

"Tired yet?"

Charlotte grinned.

"You wish."

She lunged in for a steal, Lucas spun away, then took off for a drive. Charlotte chased, but he leapt, twisting his body midair.

Airdunk.

"Six–five."

"Show-off," Charlotte muttered, brushing back her hair with the back of her hand. Her cheeks were flushed, partly from the heat, partly from the sting of that ridiculous airdunk.

Then without hesitation, she exploded forward with the ball, head down, shoulders lowered like a sprinter at the blocks.

Lucas stepped in to block her path, his stance solid, arms wide.

but Charlotte shifted her weight, planted her foot hard, and spun into a sudden turnaround fadeaway. The motion was fluid, like she’d practiced it a thousand times in the mirror.

Lucas leapt, hand stretched to contest

But he was just a split-second too late.

Swish.

"Six–six," Charlotte said between pants. She placed her hands on her hips, chest heaving slightly. "Game point."

Lucas caught the ball as it bounced toward him and simply stood there, staring at her across the court. His expression had shifted no smirk, no teasing glint in his eye.

Only focus.

"Let’s end this."

(Win or lose... I want her to know I’m serious now.)

He stepped forward with a calm rhythm one dribble... two...

Then, he burst into a sudden double crossover, fast enough to make the ball blur. He cut left, his shoes screeching against the polished floor.

Charlotte stayed with him barely.

He rose into the air, body leaning, form clean.

Charlotte jumped too, one arm outstretched, shadowing the shot—

—but the ball had already left his fingertips.

It flew.

Hung.

Dropped.

Swish.

"Seven–six. Game."

For a moment, time felt still. No cheers, no movement just the soft echo of the net and the weight of silence between two players who had given it everything.

Charlotte finally exhaled. Then she chuckled soft, reluctant, but real.

"You little brat."

She stared at him, a flicker of something fierce in her eyes, then thought quietly to herself:

(How much training will it take to catch up to you now?)

Lucas grinned and stepped closer, extending a hand toward her.

"Good game, Thunderhawk."

She eyed the hand like it was bait... then rolled her eyes, grabbed it, and let him pull her up to her feet.

"Yeah, yeah. You win this time."

Lucas slung an arm casually over her shoulder, still breathing hard but grinning like a kid who just snuck a cookie.

"Just so you know, I still expect my laundry folded."

Charlotte groaned.

"Don’t push your luck, Mimic Boy."

But neither of them pulled away.

The battle was over for now.

....

Meanwhile...

The sound of bouncing basketballs echoed on the other side of the gym, separate from the intense one-on-one battle between Charlotte and Lucas. Here, Ethan Albarado was focused on something just as important developing the next potential star.

"Louie, that’s not how you do it." Ethan called out, shaking his head as he jogged over.

Louie Gee Davas had just attempted a fast crossover into a layup, but his footwork was messy and off-balance. The ball rimmed out pathetically.

Louie hunched his shoulders, groaning.

"Man! I swear it worked in my head!"

Ethan chuckled softly, but his tone remained serious.

"That’s because you’re doing the flashy part without the foundation. Basketball isn’t about just looking cool. It’s about control."

Louie tilted his head.

"Control like... Jedi-level control?"

"Exactly," Ethan grinned. "But even Jedi needed training. Now watch closely."

Ethan stepped onto the court with that quiet intensity he always carried. He bounced the ball low, then showed Louie the proper sequence:

"Look at my feet first," Ethan said. "Wide base, stable. Crossover tight. Then — explode off your dominant foot. When you go up for the layup, don’t just throw the ball — guide it off the glass."

He did it once quick, fluid, and perfectly timed.

Swish.

Louie blinked.

"Yo... That looked effortless."

"That’s because I drilled this a thousand times. You want to beat Lucas one day? You start with this."

Louie bounced the ball once, breathing in.

"Alright... Jedi mode. Let’s go!"

He planted his feet, kept his dribble tighter this time, crossed over, then drove forward. His pace was better, more explosive but his timing was still off, and the layup thudded too hard on the backboard.

"Too much power," Ethan said calmly. "You’re not dunking it. Finesse, not force."

Louie groaned and flopped dramatically on the floor.

"I’m never gonna be Lucas..."

Ethan walked over, offered him a hand.

"Don’t be Lucas. Be Louie. You’ve got speed, instinct, and energy. We just need to shape it. Besides..."

He smirked.

"Lucas couldn’t do this at your age either."

Louie’s eyes lit up.

"Wait, for real??"

"For real," Ethan said, nodding. "You think he popped out doing Air Shoots? He trained for it. Like crazy"

Louie shot to his feet, determination flooding back into his bones.

"Okay then, again! Jedi mode: activated!"

They went at it again repetition after repetition. Ethan made minor corrections each time:

"Drop your shoulder."

"Watch your off-hand, don’t leave it hanging."

"Use your eyes to sell the fake, not just your body."

Louie kept improving, inch by inch.

After 30 minutes of non-stop drills, Louie finally did it crossover, drive, angle, soft touch off the glass.

Swish.

He landed with a gasp. Then... a pause.

"Wait... did I just—?"

"Yes, you did." Ethan said, cracking a rare smile.

Louie ran around in a circle like a kid who just got his first Pokémon badge.

"Let’s gooooooo!"

Ethan laughed, shaking his head.

(He’s raw, but he’s got fire. I’ll mold it.)

........

"Ethan!" Louie stopped, panting. "Do you think... like, maybe next month... I can 1v1 Lucas for real?"

Ethan crossed his arms, giving him a look.

"That depends. Are you willing to train like this every single day until then?"

Louie nodded without hesitation.

"Even on weekends."

"Even when your legs feel like jelly?"

"Even when my brain wants to sleep but my heart wants to hoop!"

Ethan let out a small chuckle.

"Good. Then we’ll make it happen."

Louie grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

(Lucas... you better watch your ankles. I’m coming for ’em.)

To be continue