azzifudd19

[azzifudd19]

New Teammates, Old Baggage

Chapter 1: New Teammates, Old Baggage Part 1

The early June sun poured down on the Los Angeles Sparks practice facility, drenching the polished court in golden light. The buzz of basketballs thumping against hardwood echoed off the walls like a heartbeat — fast, loud, and full of pressure. It was media day, but Paige Bueckers didn’t have time for glamor. She was late. Again.

“Jaz, let’s go, baby,” Paige urged, shifting her gym bag on one shoulder while holding her daughter’s hand with the other. Jazlyn, all four years of sass and sunshine, was too busy humming to herself and watching her glittery sneakers light up with every hop.

“But Mama, they sparkle!” Jazlyn exclaimed with a toothy grin.

Paige couldn’t help but smile, even as anxiety bubbled in her chest. “I know, baby. But we’re already behind. Let’s save the sparkles for later, okay?”

She pushed through the gym doors, her heart pounding—not from nerves, but from a cocktail of exhaustion, expectation, and the ever-present fear that she was somehow already failing at everything.

Heads turned immediately. Coaches, trainers, and players noticed her entrance, especially one in particular: Azzi Fudd.

Azzi stood at half-court, arms crossed, water bottle in hand, brow raised. Her posture was all precision and control like always. She’d already finished her morning drills before most had shown up. Punctual. Disciplined. Serious.

Exactly the opposite of Paige.

“She’s late again,” Azzi muttered to a teammate beside her.

“She’s got a kid, Azzi,” her teammate replied with a shrug.

Azzi’s jaw tightened. “She’s got a job too.”

Paige walked Jazlyn over to the bench and handed her the tablet with her favorite shows downloaded.

“You know the drill, bug. Stay right here, headphones on, and if you need to potty”

“Tell Auntie Janelle,” Jazlyn recited, already putting her pink headphones on.

Paige kissed her forehead quickly, then turned toward the court. She could feel the weight of Azzi’s gaze like a spotlight.

“Sorry, Coach,” Paige said, jogging over.

Coach Thompson gave her a look but nodded. “Just get warmed up. We’ll start in five.”

Azzi didn’t say a word as Paige joined the team for drills, but her silence was loud. Paige ignored it. She wasn’t here to make friends especially not with the girl who looked at her like she was baggage, not a baller.

Azzi watched Paige run drills with surprising speed and sharpness. She couldn’t deny Paige’s talent she was one of the most naturally gifted guards in the league. But talent wasn’t everything. It didn’t raise a kid. It didn’t fix inconsistency.

As the team broke into scrimmages, Azzi found herself opposite Paige of course.

Paige smirked. “You sure you want this smoke?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I’d rather guard a toddler.”

Paige raised a brow. “You saying I play like your little cousin?”

“No,” Azzi said coolly. “She has better time management.”

It hit a nerve. Paige’s eyes flickered, then narrowed. “Real original.”

They played aggressively. Too aggressively. Azzi boxed out hard. Paige elbowed back. The coach blew the whistle three times in a row before finally shouting, “Enough!”

They walked away from the scuffle in opposite directions, breathing hard.

From the bench, Jazlyn clapped. “Go, Mama! And go Miss Azzi!”

Azzi froze. Paige looked over, startled.

Miss Azzi?

Azzi turned just in time to see Jazlyn waving at her with both hands, beaming.

“Oh no,” Azzi muttered, turning back toward drills. “Not the kid too.”

Azzi wiped the sweat from her forehead and took a long drink from her water bottle. Practice had wrapped, but the sting of Paige’s elbow to her ribs still lingered. Not that she was about to complain — she could handle rough play. What she couldn’t handle was Paige’s attitude.

She glanced toward the bench, where Jazlyn was now perched, swinging her little legs and munching on a bag of goldfish crackers. Azzi couldn’t help but smile. The kid was… adorable.

“Hi again,” Jazlyn said brightly, looking up as Azzi walked past. “You’re really good. You run super fast.”

Azzi chuckled. “Thanks. You’re pretty fast too, I bet.”

“I am! Wanna see?” Jazlyn hopped down and started sprinting across the sideline in her light-up sneakers.

Azzi instinctively stepped forward, worried she’d trip, but the little girl was surprisingly graceful. When she finished, Jazlyn came running back, breathless and proud.

“Was that good?”

“It was amazing,” Azzi said, crouching down to her level. “You might be the fastest person on this team.”

Jazlyn beamed. “Even faster than Mama?”

Azzi opened her mouth, but a voice cut in behind her.

“Jaz, what did I say about talking to strangers?”

Azzi turned to see Paige standing a few feet away, her expression sharp. Her tone wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make Jazlyn’s smile falter.

“She’s not a stranger, Mama,” Jazlyn mumbled, suddenly sheepish.

“She’s a teammate,” Azzi said gently, rising to her feet. “And she’s got good taste in shoes.”

Paige crossed her arms. “You don’t need to babysit my kid.”

Azzi’s brows lifted. “I wasn’t. She said hi. I said hi back.”

“Well, don’t get used to it. She talks to everyone like they’re her best friend. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Azzi stiffened at the bite in Paige’s voice, but kept her tone calm. “Maybe it means she has a good heart.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe it means she trusts too easily.”

With that, Paige held out her hand. Jazlyn took it reluctantly, glancing up at Azzi with a soft wave.

“Bye, Miss Azzi.”

Azzi waved back, heart tugging a little. “Bye, Jazlyn. I’ll race you next time.”

Jazlyn smiled again, then followed her mother toward the locker rooms, her small fingers tucked inside Paige’s larger, calloused hand.

In the locker room, Paige sat on the bench, towel draped over her shoulders. Jazlyn sat beside her, humming as she arranged her goldfish into a little circle on the bench.

“You like her or something?” Paige asked, voice low.

Jazlyn looked up. “Miss Azzi? Yeah. She’s nice.”

Paige huffed a laugh, almost bitter. “Nice doesn’t mean anything. People are ‘nice’ until they’re not.”

Jazlyn blinked. “But she smiled at me. Real smiles mean something.”

Paige didn’t respond. She just stared at the floor for a long moment, lost in her thoughts a quiet storm always brewing beneath the surface.

Outside the facility, Azzi walked to her car, tossing her bag in the trunk. As she climbed in, she glanced at the door, half expecting to see Jazlyn again, waving like she had earlier.

But the door remained shut.

“She’s just a kid,” Azzi whispered to herself.

But even as she pulled out of the parking lot, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this season was going to be more complicated than she’d planned.