There is incredible power in a name, meaning granted to it by numerous branches of fortune telling. A self-chosen name doubles that power, lending its bearer a cloak of privacy or a measure of self-definition. To know the public name grants a measure of control over someone; to know their true name is the ultimate trust. Many languages reflect this; Spanish uses the verb llamarse, to call oneself: me llamo, "I call myself". The status of who knows what decides the balance of interpersonal power. Donette Snow and Jawann Gibson can attest to that.

There are two Nikkis on the team, and after a week of echoed "What?" when he yells, "Nikki!", Coach decides that he's going to call everyone by last names. Alana laughs softly and DeLisha says she'd love to see what he would have done with Charlotte Smith-Taylor and Erica Smith-Taylor.

By June they've become T and Blue to their teammates, and no one calls either of them Nikki to her face; such is the bizarreness of nicknames. It's not something anyone mentions. Nikki in Washington still means McCray, and she says as much when she stops in for the 10th anniversary celebration game. T and Blue both roll their eyes at her. "Fucking uppity Tennessee bitch," T says when she's gone, and Blue nods vehement agreement. Nikki is the name they both chose to be called, can't take that from them no matter what the people around them call them. They blend smoothly in with the rest of the team. T hangs with her Los Angeles crew, and Blue bonds with C-Rob in conspiracy to commit murder if the DJ plays "Crystal Blue Persuasion" one more time after Blue dishes to C-Rob for a three.

T likes Blue's Cali style; it reminds her of four happy seasons, parties with her girls, a three-pointer in Spoon's face (Spoon never did forgive her for that), sparkling confetti and sparkling rings, the laissez-faire nature of the city, the coastal wind stirring the smog. Blue likes having T to go to for advice: what restaurants, what stylist, what clubs, fastest routes, good parts of town, bad parts of town, bounce or skip to DeLisha?

T loves to watch Blue shoot, putting up beautiful jumpers that make the net sway just a little. Blue loves to watch T pass and tries to figure out where the ball is going; she gets it right ninety percent of the time, more than Coach, more than Chas or Alana or even DeLisha, who played with her for three years.

T wants Blue's cool, the West Coast confidence that doesn't need to be displayed to be known. Blue wants T's swagger, the East Coast cockiness that comes from always coming out on top.

They mesh well. T knows how to duck her head and draft behind the Chosen One; Blue's used to second billing behind USC. Things click. The Mystics end up leading the league in assists once T and DeLisha tell Chas to get her head out of her ass or they'll remove it for her. They get Alana and DeLisha onto the All-Star team in New York, and at a bar after the game, Blue turns left instead of right and plants a tipsy kiss on T instead of the hottie she'll never see again. "Smooth, Nikki," T says with a smile, and Blue ends up downing shots to forget, though she never will.

By the end of the season, T doesn't answer Blue's questions anymore, because she's gotten tired of telling Blue things. She shows her instead, takes her to the clubs and the restaurants; they spend a weekend getting their braids done, and they shriek like teenagers when they see each other's new 'dos. Blue gets a few extra pillows for her couch, and T buys a spare mattress for her apartment. They don't have each other's keys, but they don't need each other's keys.

They win the East by a game over the Sun, but Connecticut takes them down in the conference finals; McWilliams-Franklin wants it too much and she won't be denied. A taste of honey is worse than none of all, because regular-season conference titles don't go into the rafters the way the playoff titles do, so they still have to stare at the attendance banners that Washington has had to pride themselves on, knowing that they could have been so much better than that.

Drained and dismayed, Mystics fall into each other's arms, and exactly no one is surprised when Blue catches T. "Thanks," T mumbles into Blue's shoulder.

"Any time, Nikki," Blue says, her breath whispering warm against T's scalp.

"Get me the fuck out of here," and T's voice is dangerously ragged. Blue's heard the stories, knows that T isn't as emotionally stable as she should be, has been awakened at night when T screams at things that aren't real. Blue takes her home, and when T makes a move for the couch, she gives a miniscule shake of her head. T needs a friend tonight, Blue knows, and she needs someone to protect her from her demons, and Blue can't do that if T's on the couch.

Somehow, though, T ends up on the outside of the spoon when they wake up the next morning, and Blue is nestled against her, and both of them have slept like babies and all those other clichés. T takes a bunch of clothes she left here last time, leaves the things she wore the previous night, knowing that Blue will wash them and leave them for her because otherwise she'll confiscate the clamdiggers that Blue left at her place. Doesn't matter that the season's over; they'll see each other again.

They call and text and e-mail and occasionally meet face to face during the offseason, each of them getting used to being Nikki again; it's a feeling like awakening to a bucket of ice water in the face. It's like T and Blue are different people, friends who can get away with whatever, and Nikki and Nikki have to be professionals.

They don't do anything official when they return to Washington, but T takes an apartment and Blue pays token rent to crash in her living room instead of getting her own place. It's nothing they mention to anyone, but they're rarely seen apart. It's not serious, but T asks Blue to come with her for her lunch with her family on Mother's Day. T's mom shakes her hand and says she's so glad Michelle's made such a good friend, and T squirms awkwardly but doesn't explain.

After their first win of the season, T pins Blue to the lockers and kisses her until her teeth hurt and her back aches. Blue kisses back just as hard, and T nearly stumbles over a bench. Somehow, that doesn't make it official, even if Crystal gives them a knowing smile the next time they see her.

They play the Sparks again, and if the Lisas were running their mouths last year, that's nothing on this year when they see T and Blue talking quietly together during warm-ups. Willis doesn't say much, because she and Blue are tight; she's got a few teasing things to say, a couple of jabs at Blue's taste, and that's okay as long as she laughs.

Leslie's got a lot more to say, delivered with a smirk and a few disparaging remarks about women who don't have husbands. T's not cool with this, and neither is Blue, but neither of them gets a chance to get back at her. DeLisha steps in and tells Lisa that they may be friends, but that stops when they hit the court and D-Nasty has to defend her team, and if Lisa says one more thing to or about the Nikkis, DeLisha is going to rearrange her face until it looks like a horse's ass instead of a horse's front. No one fucks around with D-Nasty. T sends her the hottest naked delivery guy she can find, which doesn't make Roland very happy, and Blue sends flowers.

That night, after the game, is their first time, defiant of what the good girls think, and it's rough. Blue's nails rake T's back, snagging and catching as she holds on for dear life, and T leaves her marks on Blue's shoulder. They aren't too experienced, but they're very sure, and this is what they want.

Against the pillow, T sleepily admits that her name isn't Nikki, or even Nicole; it's not a big secret, it's in her bio and her 20-second timeout, that her given name is Michelle. Blue starts laughing, and T almost kicks her onto the floor before she gets a chance to explain that her name isn't Nikki either, or Necole- yeah, her mother spelled it funny just to be different, she doesn't know why- but Anitra. "Anitra?" T asks, and Blue shrugs against her, hand lingering on the inside of T's thigh and moving up fast, and T forgets to ask any more questions that night.

The names become code, pet names, things no one else calls them unless they want to be looking for their teeth immediately after. They start sending each other silly little romantic things, "to Nikki from Anitra", "to Nikki from Michelle", and if anyone puts two and two together, they're not stupid enough to say it aloud. Blue calls T Shelly once. Once. T shows her no mercy for a week, doesn't let Blue even call her Michelle until the appropriate groveling has been done. All becomes forgiven with a ten-assist game, chocolate, and gentle lovemaking, and they both know the boundaries now.

It's not the most memorable season, not what they were expecting, and they're almost glad when it ends. They've already made plans for the offseason, saved their gas money and thrown a few darts at a map of America. They share a room at hotels and switch off using aliases that aren't really fake names- Anitra Blue, Michelle Teasley- not like they need to, but it adds an element of mystery and freedom. The bedsprings in Springfield creak in A flat, the ones in Baltimore creak in C sharp, the ones in St. Louis in F, the ones in Hartford too quietly to hear, and the ones in Topeka don't creak at all because they took one look at the front desk and knew they'd have enough trouble being two black women without being two black women making love.

They have fun being tourists, traveling by their whims, going by their schedule, beholden to no one except the monthly phone call to assure the Mystics front office that they haven't gotten themselves killed. They explore the country. They explore themselves.

Somewhere along the line, though it's not consciously intentional, or intentionally conscious, they start slipping up a little on the aliases, and by the time they hit California, they're regularly registering in the name of Michelle Blue or Anitra Teasley. Blue doesn't notice, but T does, and decides that if they get serious, if they get married, fuck it, she'll switch her number and steal Blue's jersey, wear her lover's name, number, and scent.