Chapter 2, Part 6 - The Barely Familiar Girl, Noticed Again Thanks to a Ball

And here I am, sitting on the cold gym floor, while my classmates are having fun playing-boys who chose basketball and girls who chose volleyball. At first glance, it might seem like a lot of space is needed, and indeed it is: the gym is very spacious and has two courts separated by a net, so theoretically two volleyball games could take place simultaneously. But that's not possible right now, since the far end of one court is occupied by the boys. Yes, they aren't playing across the entire court, just half of it; I assume it's to focus more on getting the ball into the hoop rather than on the gameplay itself.

My experience with basketball ends the moment I realize I have no idea how the rules work, and also because I can never get the ball to the right height. On top of that, it's usually the boys who play, so imagine if a weak, scrawny girl like me could even hope to compete against those giants. I'd rather stay intact than turn into a shattered pile of bones.

As for volleyball, I can hit the ball, but I can't direct it where I want. In fact, one would need to figure out how I'm hitting it. I act on instinct, in a way: I try to get it however I can, two hands, one hand, or who knows what else I might come up with. I tried because I want to be useful, not a burden, which is why I'm not playing now. I decided to stay quiet so I wouldn't ruin anyone's fun. In any case, I'd feel awkward around my classmates, and I know for sure that my presence wouldn't be especially welcome, so I'd just make everyone less enthusiastic at the mere thought of playing.

The teacher tried to encourage me to join in, to play with someone, to do any activity possible in this place, and I appreciate it, but I tried to resist his efforts without success. In the end, he decided to play with me: he grabbed a regular ball and suggested we start with small passes using our feet-so it could be said we were playing soccer, more or less. It's hard to say no, especially when someone kind is in front of you, showing that side of themselves, and suddenly I found myself agreeing.

But now I'm back here, alone, with no one around. That's life, right? I should take it a bit more positively-I can't keep sinking into self-pity, or I'll never see the beauty of life. Yes... positive, Kaede, come on, nothing can go wrong.

FLASHBACK

"Let's just do simple passes, at least this way you won't be doing nothing."

I nod, get into position, and move to where he asked. Basically, now we're facing each other in a side area of the gym: we haven't even taken up a fraction of the court, we're completely outside it.

Small passes. I don't have to run, I don't have to panic, I don't have to worry about how hard to kick-well, maybe a little, but not too much. Normally, none of my shots would reach the goal, and if they did, they'd be stopped in the blink of an eye.

I've played soccer here before, obviously never impressively, and I was too scared to do anything precise. They had me in defense, just standing there, trying to get the ball however I could, though I often failed. I kept trying, my breath shortening with every attempt, feeling that everything I did was wrong. The few times I got the ball, I always passed it to the teammate next to me; I couldn't attempt fancy passes, long throws, or anything like that, especially since I have no idea how to lift the ball except when luck favors me.

I have another memory too. I was in defense, waiting for someone to come closer. They approached, and I was "ready"-but once in front of me, they kicked the ball so luckily that it hit me, deflecting wildly and ending up past the goal line...

Yes, I scored an own goal without even doing anything.

Needless to say, I started crying: in my mind, I had ruined my teammates' effort. We were doing a mini-tournament, and that's why I felt so guilty. No one understood why I was crying-they didn't come immediately, or at least I managed to hold them back, which is why they didn't appear right away.

No one saw things the way I did: to them, nothing tragic had happened, just a small mistake, no big deal. But to me, according to my mind, it was torture that wouldn't go away.

Someone, along with the teacher, approached to comfort me, so much so that they came up with the idea of letting me take a penalty kick. Luckily, I somehow managed to avoid it-I don't remember how, but it's better that way: I wouldn't have handled all that tension.

"Are you ready?"
"Y-yes."

His leg moved, the ball began its path until...
"Squirrel!"
...
"I know you heard me! Turn around!"
...
"Hey! You there?!"

It seems someone is calling me. Wait, but this voice isn't from the flashback, so who's speaking? I was remembering the previous moment, and something is interrupting me. You can't interrupt memories like this-it's totally wrong.

"Are you serious?! Are you deaf?!"

Wait a second. That voice... is it Marco?! No! I don't want to talk to him, stop everything!

SHARP INTERRUPTION OF THE FLASHBACK
(Actually, it was interrupted earlier, but details.)

I wouldn't want any contact with him right now, but it seems I'm forced; I can't ignore him, or things will definitely go badly.

I turn toward the far end of the gym, where he and the other boys are playing basketball. Looking, nothing seems wrong, so why is he calling me? Does he intend to tease me as usual?

As soon as he notices my gaze, his face, previously impatient, takes on a semi-surprised look, as if he's amazed I heard him.

"Listen carefully, Amplifon!"

I'm not deaf, I just get too absorbed in my thoughts, ending up lost in a strange whirlpool of memories and imagination.

"The ball!" He gestures with his hands toward a round shape; he's trying to help me.
"Go get the ball! It went out that door!" he concludes, pointing.

I follow the direction of his hands, and my eyes reach the phantom goal. I hesitate for a second-I don't want to go there, not only because I was here with no pressure on me, but also because passing through that door means going outside, and that alone tells me how cold my body will get.

"Move! Don't waste our time!"

I want to sigh, but if I do, he might notice and realize how fed up I am with him. Do I need a gesture to make him understand? I don't think so...

I head toward the door at a fast pace; I don't run, because I'm sure I'd trip in such a stupid way that I couldn't even imagine how the universe could allow it.

I glance one last time at the group of boys: Marco seems to be saying something, and I can assume I'm the focus of their words.

Because yes, I'm going where he indicated, but now he might be arguing about whether I understood what to do or if I can actually do it.

Reluctantly, no one can fully trust me; there's always a limit, and surely they have no intention of removing it.

The closer I get to the door, the more I prepare to become a little popsicle, and there's nothing I can do to prevent it. My jacket is inside the classroom, and I don't think I have time to get it, nor permission from the teacher to leave the gym temporarily; in fact, I don't even know if I can leave without his consent.

Am I breaking the rules? I didn't think about it, but perhaps I should have asked first. And now what? I don't want to cause trouble or make the teacher angry, who has been incredibly kind.

What if they take it seriously?! I don't want to end up in the principal's office-they say he's super strict with anyone who doesn't follow the rules... Why didn't I think this through? I was focused only on not wanting to go there in the first place, not on possible consequences.

No, I'm definitely overthinking. What would they think of me if I asked for permission for such a silly thing? I can't, I mustn't create too many problems, I'm just helping my classmates, nothing more, nothing bad or wrong. Okay, I'm still a little worried, but at least now it's diluted.

I pass through the door.

A wave of icy air hits me, sending shivers through my body. Yes, it's definitely cold out here, especially since I'm not dressed for it.

As always, the sky is cloudy, not a hint of blue. I don't know if I like it so gloomy and mysterious: it doesn't make you feel like flying into infinity; in fact, if I tried, I'd probably be struck by lightning. I assume that if this kind of sky came into contact with my uselessness, it would start crying immediately and try to get rid of me somehow.

Hmmm, ball, ball, ball... where are you, soccer element? I look around: the outdoor space is large and still part of the school grounds. Yes, because even out here there are fields, though recently they haven't been used much. I should be able to find it even standing still here.

I don't see it.

Playing basketball, they couldn't have sent it that far, and even if they had kicked it hard, it couldn't have gone too far, hmm.

I also think that from this position-where I am now-they couldn't have made a straight shot out of the goal, only something at an angle, which must have hit something, causing a strong deflection. That would explain why I can't see it.

I examine the objects just outside the door: first the tables, then the chairs, then the bins... nothing else? There's nothing else here, nothing to explore beyond what I've already mentioned.

So I have to walk a bit; there's no other solution. I need to check if it's far away, probably near the walls that enclose the area, which look like a prison. I mean, this whole space reminds me of where prisoners spend their free hour, or the open air, I don't know what to call it. And I say this also because there are bars on top of the walls.

Bottom left corner.
Bottom right corner.

No sign of it, no clue revealing where the phantom object could be. The longer I take, the more a strange pressure builds inside me. I'm not surprised: I know it comes from my desire not to be insulted or "bothered" further by Marco, and that's why I must find it before he gets annoyed.

Easier said than done.

We're talking about a simple ball, which right now could completely determine the course of my day. No matter how, it has to end up in my hands.

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.

I approach the first net in the area. At first glance, I notice nothing: it's the same as always, showing no interference with its usual structure. Double, sturdy poles, anchored into a rocky, hard floor. Strong structures, yes, but not eternal, because somehow everything could collapse.

How? I don't know. Maybe with the planet starting a rebellion against humans, by which I mean very simple things: weather events.

The planet seems to act against itself. Its own forces constantly erode its surface, again and again. At first, the difference is almost imperceptible to the human eye, but over the years, our gaze itself could become a source of surprise.

The same goes for rising waters: one day, or rather, in a year far from now, even this place where I live could disappear entirely from maps.

Is it better to be eroded by the Earth itself or called back by the deep abyss?

"Called back"... not the wrong term, since life, simple life, originated right there.

My specification about the simplicity of ancient organisms might be disrespectful. Life is life, no matter whose it is, right? Maybe I'm wrong. I can believe it's like that, but... who says everyone thinks according to this moral principle I invented?

False. By talking about these things, I've only proven how much of a liar I am: we humans declare a lot, yet we don't always apply it to our actions. I said life should be respected, but would I really feel remorse seeing a tarantula killed? Would I see it as a bad thing? Would I be sad? Of course, none of us would want to witness that, but pity? I don't think it's really possible, not for most humans on this planet.

Cheap moralist-that's what I am.

My mind should stop; I just want to live my life, and it keeps interrupting me with these intrusive thoughts. Because of it, I can't focus, which leads to countless mistakes that would normally be easily avoidable.

Ball. Ball. Ball. This is the only thing I need in my mind. Ball. Ball. Ball.

I look at the second net. It's right in front of my eyes, yet I hesitate about the possible presence of the ball. I mean... what trajectory could it have taken? A ball can't move on its own, right?

I circle the structure and... I find it, right there behind the left pole. I didn't expect it, but thinking about it, it makes perfect sense. The poles are double and thick, so the ball can easily hide behind their imposing structure. Silly me for not checking from the start.

I'm a step away from picking it up in my small hands when I trip with the grace of a triceratops; my head hits the ball, which hits the pole, and it rolls away without me knowing which direction it's going.

"Ouch..." the only sound my body can make, and if anyone saw me, they'd be laughing so hard they couldn't contain themselves.

I try to get up, making sure I haven't hurt myself-from hands to knees. No scratches. No cuts. No scrapes. Hmm, my body seems fine, except for the jolt I still feel from hitting the ball... speaking of which, where did it go?!

I rub my head while looking around. Ah, it hasn't gone far: it only moved slightly toward the edges of the area, near the bars.

I don't know how much time has passed, which is a problem. I need to hurry. Yes, that's what I was thinking until a second ago-why am I not thinking it now? Well... there's someone behind the bars.

Panic! Help! Maybe someone really saw me fall! No, impossible: if she really saw me, I'd have heard her laughter. But maybe it's not someone who laughs, so she didn't show her feelings outwardly, though inside she could have experienced a huge mix of emotions to mock me, or maybe just laugh at this little incident.

Not everyone enjoys seeing scenes like this. Maybe seeing me fall like an idiot only made her angry. And now, what is she thinking of me...? And if she didn't see me? There are so many things that could have kept her busy, better things than watching a girl embarrass herself-something she maybe didn't even do.

For example... yes, she has a cigarette in hand and look quite pensive; I wonder what she's thinking. Not that I can guess, since life is full of adventures, so there could be something in her mind: small moments or big situations, which may not show on her face. Also, there's another reason she might not have seen me: her hair is long and a beautiful black color. The last detail is minor, but... I mean, with the wind, maybe it kept falling over her eyes, blocking her view.

I watch her for a few seconds while picking up the ball, trying not to be noticed. I don't want her to think I'm some sketchy person watching for who knows what reason. What color are her eyes? No! Who cares, it doesn't matter! I can't see them from here...

Looking more closely, that's my uniform. I focused too much on other details to notice that she's a classmate. You might think I'm terrible for not knowing the names of people I'm sharing a class with for years, but there's a reason I don't know-it's something I still can't explain.

She barely came to school; I think I've seen her only a couple of times since the year started, about... 40 days ago? More or less. Still, I wonder why she never comes: the few times I saw her, she seemed calm, certainly not like Marco and his gang. In fact, you could say the three clashed with her because of her attitude: they love bothering others, and when someone ignores them, they're defeated. Yes, because this girl, whose name I don't remember, is always indifferent to their jokes or constant teasing.

I should behave like that with them too, but come on, it's impossible. This girl's body seems capable of staying impassive, but mine... mine acts on its own, so I could never stay cold. Another mistake I might be making: who says she's "cool-headed"? What if she also has a lot to say? Just like me, only she can express it while I can't. I think and think, but in the end, I'm just imagining possibilities; I can't know for sure without talking to people.

I wish I could remember her name, but I really can't. I remember every other name, but I heard hers too little to recall.

I really don't understand: she's wearing the uniform, but instead of going inside, she's standing outside doing nothing. Let's say she doesn't want to go in-then there'd be no reason to wear the uniform or even come here to... relax her mind? Another useless assumption... there shouldn't be anything stopping her from entering the school, so why isn't she? I've asked myself that so many times I'm confusing myself.

No reason. No limitation. No principle preventing her presence.

Cigarette: people our age shouldn't touch those things-or at least that's what my mom always says, to make sure I never go near them. The substances in that little object can damage your lungs and more; over time, they could slowly corrode your body.

I've never tried smoking... no! It's not that I want to; I have no need, and I know I couldn't even take a puff given my dislike for anything unfamiliar. Besides, I'm so weak I'd probably start coughing endlessly.

Not to mention my breath and taste buds. If I ever started smoking-hopefully never-my parents already warned me I'd end badly and shouldn't test them. I won't, I don't want to make the home environment worse.

I can't and shouldn't judge. Everyone makes their own choices, and likes what they like, right?

"Squirrel!"

Marco shouts my nickname, and I'm taken aback. I don't have time to turn around before I notice the girl I was watching-without any ill intention-turn toward me. Her face... I don't know how to describe it, but she looks rather annoyed; I hope she didn't realize I'd been staring for a while.

I freeze, my hand wanting to reach out as if to explain, but everything stops. I don't even know if I need to say anything.

She turns back toward nothing, flicks her cigarette, and drops it to the ground. As if nothing happened, she leaves, leaving only the smoke from her flick behind. That smell even reaches my nose.

Meanwhile, something grabs my shoulders, and in an instant, I find myself facing the opposite direction: in front of me is my torment.

"How long does it take you to get a ball?!"

I don't answer; I just look at him with trembling eyes.

"I told you to do something, and you're staring at the clouds?"

Nothing. How can I even respond? How can I defend myself? Should I tell him I was watching that girl? And what if she didn't want anyone to know she was here?

He shakes my shoulders. "Speak for once!"

What use are my words to him? Pleasure? Entertainment? Does he expect a reaction? I'm scared-what if he does something now that no one's watching?

"I..."

His gaze fills with anger. Will he hit me? I don't want to tremble, not again, not like every single time; but I am trembling.

Unexpectedly, he sighs and lets it go, though I don't understand why.

"You really make me feel sorry for you."

What...?

He lets go of my shoulders and snatches the ball from my hands. No other words, no other sounds. He turns and starts walking inside as if he hadn't just done something to me emotionally.

I don't understand the situation.