Free First Round Lottery Pick by Franklin White Page A

making sure she would always be safe when we were out. I wanted to tell her it was all my fault, that I would find Tori and bring her back home, but I wasn’t so sure. We didn’t have any kind of clues as to where she could be or what could have happened to her, and it was driving me crazy. So, as I held Ms. Hicks, I cried too.

Chapter Twelve
    Hard-Pressed
    It was hard to take, but three days had almost passed since Tori went missing. It was quiet all around The Vil, and I hadn’t slept more than three hours straight since the night Tori was taken. The police didn’t have any witnesses and didn’t know anything. All they knew was that she was gone and that Kelly’s car had been shot up. I heard they even questioned Katrina because of the beef she and Tori had right before Tori left. Katrina had all types of people speaking for her and stepping up to clear her name. I didn’t think she had anything to do with it. Besides, her bark was always louder than her bite.
    I was pissed because no one in the media was really saying anything about Tori missing like they do for those suburban girls when they get snatched up. I wasn’t too young to know what it was about though. The media never cared about what went down in the hood and wasn’t going to waste time on some young black girl, so I did what I could on that end. Out of the seven interviews I had concerning going pro, I told them what I was going through and made sure I talked about Tori because I wanted somebody to find my girl.

    â€œC’mon, Langston, that shot’s going to be your bread and butter when you come overseas,” I heard Barcelona’s head scout voice echo through the gym. “I can see it now. You’re going to be hell to defend. Do you know how hard it was to play against Scottie Pippen back in the day? When you’re floating around the elbow looking straight at the bucket we’re going to want you to take it. It’s what you’re going to be known for on our team,” the scout shouted.
    I couldn’t believe I kept shooting and missing it as the scout continued to run his mouth.
    â€œMake it your signature, baby. Live it and love it!”
    The traveling scout working me out was sitting in the bleachers next to Coach Pierce. It was my second workout in two days for Barcelona. I can’t even front—I wasn’t even impressing myself.
    Coach showed up big though. He was my buffer between the scouts and the terrible workouts I was having. He pulled them aside to let them know my situation. He explained to them why my vertical had been forty-one inches instead of a consistent forty-six and the reasons my shooting touch was off. He knew Tori and understood what I was going through. There had been a few times when Coach didn’t think he was reaching me during the season and he went to Tori to get into my head, and it worked every time. She was definitely in my head by this time, because I was worried to death about her.
    I looked over toward the bleachers to Coach and the scout. “I’m sorry, but this just ain’t going to work today. I need to find out what’s going on with Tori. I shouldn’t even be doing this right now.”
    The scout looked over at Coach then back at me. “Look, son, it’s this simple. In the pros there is no time for a break when things are tough. We work on our game, get our heads right, and try as best as we can to do what we’re paid to do. Ask any of the players when you meet them. It’s how you become a star.”
    I couldn’t tell if the scout knew, but Coach Pierce did, and he stiffened a bit.
    He must have remembered the time when one of the assistants on our team tried the same take-one-for-the-team speech when my grandmother died and the entire team had to pull me off him. Coach put his hand up to silence me before I cussed the scout out.
    â€œLook, Langston,” the scout said, “listen to me. Things