Bring It

By Nokomis Yeldell

Bring it with an attitude is a novel about three All American girl high school basketball players who decided to attend the same university. They did so because they felt the coach at another university had been disrespectful to the coach of the school they were considering attending. This novel chronicles the girl's background and families and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Sep 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781648952210

Nokomis Yeldell

Born in Mt. Pleasant, Texas, Nokomis Yeldell Jr. is a graduate of Harding Academy of Memphis, Tennessee. He graduated from Southwestern Christian College of Terrell, Texas and then was drafted into the U.S Air Force. Upon completing his military requirements he moved to Knoxville, Tennessee where he attended the University of Tennessee. Along with being an avid sports fan, Nokomis enjoys writing and has also written, produced, and directed several plays. He also enjoys writing poetry, travelling, chess, drawing, basketball, and wordworking. Nokomis is also a pastor who dedicates his life to the service of God.

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Nokomis Yeldell Jr.

BRING IT

Copyright © 2020 Nokomis Yeldell Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Stratton Press Publishing

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Wilmington, DE 19801

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in the work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-64895-220-3

ISBN (Ebook): 978-1-64895-221-0

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter I

It was such a beautiful morning. The bright early morning light shined so brilliantly, it just seemed to emanate off everything. It hit the leaves of the trees and radiated a whitish hue. Birds were chirping, dogs were playfully barking, and early risers could be heard talking to their neighbors as they went out to get their morning papers.

That same bright light was also pouring into Jennifer Jackson’s room. Even though she was still lying in bed fighting not to relinquish those last few moments of sleep, her mom and sister were already up preparing breakfast and trading quips, as they always did. Jonetta was thirteen, the younger of Sheryl Jackson’s two daughters. Sheryl, at times, had her hands full raising her two daughters alone, but they were such bright, good kids that she knew it was more than worth it. Sheryl Jackson was a very proud woman. Raised in the South by strict parents, she believed in all that was good and honest and just. Even though times had changed and even though she realized that she had to change with the times to a certain extent, she steadfastly held on to the old principles of ethics and virtue. She made it a point to constantly talk about these principles with her two daughters and instill them.

Momma, I’m not saying your hairstyle is old-fashioned, I’m just saying it’s not hip.

Jonetta, honey, I appreciate your concern, but Momma’s not too preoccupied with being hip. I’m a professional woman, and I need to look professional because it helps my business image.

I know all that, Momma, Jonetta answered, but you could make yourself look so much better if you just tried some other hairstyles. That one you wear all the time now just doesn’t do you justice.

Okay, okay, Jonetta, Sheryl retorted with a sigh, you win. If you’ll just get off this hair thing, I promise you next Saturday, I’ll make an appointment, go to the beauty parlor, and ask Janice for her advice, okay?

Cool, Momsy, you’ll be glad, just wait and see.

As the sun shifted ever so slightly, its light filtered into Jenny’s room with added intensity. It began to reflect off the shiny surfaces of her Maya Moore and LeBron James posters. Candace Parker’s and Michael Jordan’s posters were at right angles of the light, so they weren’t yet affected. But the sunlight did reflect from the faux basketball goal above her closet door. It even ever so slightly glistened across the tops of her Nikes, Filas, Reeboks, and Jordans, which Jenny kept proudly displayed atop her dresser. Jonetta could not remember a time when Jenny did not keep all her many pairs of sneakers absolutely spotless and on display atop her dresser. If someone wanted to see Jenny highly perturbed, all they had to do was step on her tennis shoes, and they would get a scolding they would not soon forget.

Jenny, in her semiconscious state, was reliving the basketball game her team had played the night before. How vividly she remembered several of the goals she had made during the game that had sent the crowd into a raucous frenzy. She remembered coming off a pick, which Tanya, her teammate, had set. As she came off the pick, she hit a high-arching fadeaway jumper that would have made Dr. J smile; it was so sweet. She twitched a little in bed as she recalled driving to the hoop on a fast break with the 6'5" center of the opposing team waiting to contest her under the goal. She had taken off sooner than she ordinarily would. It was to get the center to commit early, which she did. Once the girl committed and leaped to block the shot, Jenny brought the ball back into her body, went beneath the girl’s outstretched arm, and then extended her arm to make a beautifully executed finger roll. The timing was perfect, and the crowd went absolutely berserk. Oh yeah, Jenny had been in a zone last night and had thirty-eight points to prove it.

Jenny also had another idiosyncrasy about her tennis shoes. She wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair that she hadn’t modified in some way. She simply had to do something to them that made them unique. Unique, now that was an adjective that fit Jennifer Rochelle Jackson quite adequately. How else could one describe a 4.0 student who was not only arguably the prettiest girl in her class and the top scholar in her class, but who also, on top of all that, just happened to be the best girls’ basketball player in her state and, by some accounts, in the country? She had this happy-go-lucky, down-to-earth quality about her that disguised the unbelievably fierce, competitive nature that festered inside of her. It was this quality of Jenny’s that perpetuated the devout admiration of her peers and her community. No one had ever seen anyone whose personality and verve could change so abruptly when confronted with a challenge and then just as abruptly revert back to their mild-mannered self once the challenge was quelled. Her teammates swore that when you looked into her eyes during one of those intense moments of a basketball game, she ceased being the Jenny they knew but became the Scorcher, a moniker they playfully assigned to their star.

Booger, the cat and the only pet of the house, leaped up onto the bed and onto Jenny, as was his daily routine. Jenny thought it was uncanny how her little feline friend always seemed to know precisely when she needed to get out of bed. Booger would jump up on her and then just stare out into space in that cool, detached, imperial manner he had come to master so well.

Okay, Booger. I know it’s time to get up, you space cadet you. Now get, get off me. Go chase an ant or something, she said as she playfully pushed Booger aside. Oh yeah, today’s a beautiful day, and today’s going to be a great day, she said emphatically to herself.

Jenny was an even six feet tall. She wasn’t very muscular but was put together symmetrically. Everything fit into place on her, and she had a fluidity to her that gave her the look of an athlete—but not in a masculine way. She wore a thick long ponytail, as she had always done. She was a pretty but no-frills girl. She wore neither makeup nor lipstick. With her beautiful complexion and fine features, she needed neither. Her earrings were her only adornment. Jenny was not your ordinary teenager. Jenny was a star.

That sister of yours is finally up. I hear her doing those dreaded jumping jacks up there. She must think this is a gymnasium or something.

Oh, Mom, you know you don’t care. You know she always does those when she first gets up.

I know that, Ms. Ma’am, but I can still complain, can’t I? How about checking those biscuits in the oven for me?

Jonetta loved to help her mother cook; it made her feel grown. She was going to be a tall girl; she was already taller than Jenny had been at her age. And man, did she love to eat. She was lucky she had a high metabolism, or she would have had a hard time controlling her weight. Sheryl Jackson had ample reason to be a proud mom. Jonetta was just as bright as Jenny. She was also a basketball player on the junior varsity and a rising star in her own right. Jenny had grown up taking her little sister with her on her basketball-playing ventures at the parks and to friends’ houses with basketball goals as she went around the neighborhood, drilling anyone who dared challenge her. Even when Jonetta was too young to play, she would sit back and cheer her older sister on to victory. She was so proud of her and emulated her. She had also unconsciously absorbed Jenny’s fierce competitiveness.

Chapter II

It was the same morning, only several hundred miles and a few states away. The place was the bayou country of Louisiana—Baton Rouge to be exact. It was raining on this early March morning. Lucinda Armond was still in bed. She was awake but still lying there, as was her custom when she could. She reached over and took the pen that she kept suspended on a string from the calendar next to her bed. She crossed out another day. One hundred and eighty-days, she said to herself. One hundred and eighty days and she could begin to fulfill her dream. Her college days would begin, and she could finally get away from this rat-infested, roach-laden house.

Lucinda loved her parents, as well as the rest of her siblings. She just wanted more out of life than the environment she had grown up in. She realized that her parents were doing the best they could and that they loved and supported her totally. Her parents, Patricia and Otis, were earnest, hardworking people. There were only two faults that Lucinda found in them. One, she didn’t think they tried hard enough to improve their plight in life, and two, she disliked the fact that Otis sometimes drank too much. On a couple of occasions recently, he had gotten drunk and struck her mom, though not viciously. But all in all, she loved her parents very much and kept her sentiments to herself.

Anyone who visited the Armond home would be amazed if they ventured into Lucinda’s room. Her room was a stark contrast to the rest of the house. It was as if once one entered into her room, that person stepped from the past into the twenty-first century. Her computer, her furniture, and just the way she had her room set up, all combined to make it very striking. Everything was meticulously neat and in its proper place. Her stereo and television were encased in a black-lacquered entertainment center.

Yes, Lucinda was very proud of her room, as well she should have been. She had worked and bought everything of value in it on her own. Curry and Thompson were the only two to adorn her walls, she being a true Warriors fan before they broke up. This in itself, one might say was no big deal, but what was a big deal was that Lucinda just happened to be one of the very best high school basketball players in the entire country.

Lucinda was an attractive young lady. She was tall, a little over six feet one. She had a smooth chocolate complexion, bright white eyes, and perfect teeth. She always wore her hair in long, tiny braids. For those who didn’t know better, they would think that they were extensions, but they weren’t. She had a slim build but had filled out nicely in the right places. She had a quick, engaging, sincere smile that endeared people to her. She was a good dresser who was always very neat and very polite. Polished was the word that came to mind when one sought to describe Lucinda. She was very bright, very attentive, and conscientious. She was the type of girl that never seemed to give anybody any trouble and sought always to please. She was the closest thing to being a celebrity that this part of the state could boast. Her accomplishments on the basketball courts could be heard being discussed in barbershops, shopping malls, and high schools clear across the state.

No one had ever led their team to three consecutive state championships in Louisiana. Lucinda had not only done this, but she also did it with a flair that made even the opposing team’s fans smile and shake their heads. Lucinda had an odd idiosyncrasy that was almost as legendary as her game. During moments of tenseness or duress, Lucinda had a habit of scratching. It didn’t necessarily occur in one particular place: it could be her hair, her legs, her arms, or her face. But when it did start happening, everybody who knew anything about Lucinda Armond knew that she was about to create havoc for the opposing team once she reentered the game. The passion she displayed when playing the game was unbelievable and uninhibited. Her average, forty points a game.

She was in the top 5 percent of her class, was wooed by every major college in the country, and loved every minute of it. She listened to the recruiters; she visited their campuses and enjoyed the moment. But Lucinda had long ago made up her mind about what college she wanted to attend. She never let the recruiters know for sure though. She enjoyed the attention, the suspense, and the control she had at her disposal.

The funny thing was that Lucinda had not always been such an avid basketball fan. She remembered a time in her early teens when her family’s situation had not been so dismal. The Armonds were a happy lot during those times.

They laughed a lot, took vacations, and did fun things together. But that was before Otis had gotten laid off from the factory where he had worked for seventeen years. Before that happened, there was always enough money for nice clothes, weekend outings, and other extracurricular activities.

For Otis, it