The Third Day

No waiting around for boredom to force me into action this morning, I have a plan of action; Find Lexi, challenge her to a game of basketball and then curb-stomp her back to last week.

I start with breakfast, which some people will have you believe is the most important meal of the day. They're wrong. It's only beneficial if it doesn't impact your sleep too much, sleep is a far more important meal. If I have to get up half an hour early for breakfast I'll gladly wait for lunch.

Cases like this are an exception. If some physical activities are on the pre-midday agenda then breakfast is a must. Breakfast is the most important meal on the days you don't spend lying in bed thinking about the heat death of the universe. That's a more accurate idiom.

Usually, I'd make myself a thick smoothie before exercising but unfortunately it seems women are fruit adverse. One mango does not a good smoothie make. Instead, I've settled for some cornflakes, the most appetizing meal I can be bothered to prepare.

As I'm pouring in the milk, the fruit I was missing arrives on its own two legs. Reina, near human-sized banana, has entered the battle. Bananas on the pyjamas too. If she's so committed why can't I find a single actual banana in the kitchen?

"Yo."

Reina turns around and then sticks her tongue out at me.

"You're pretty rude for a banana."

"I'm not a banana."

"You're not a normal banana, that's true."

"I'm not a banana at all!"

"Look, I'm not going to eat you if that's what you're worried about."

"I wasn't worried about it until right now."

"I don't even like bananas plain, they're way better in smoothies."

"So you're going to drink me???"

"No, no. Of course not. The blender isn't big enough."

The suggestion that I would've liquidized her had we a big enough blender seems to have shaken her, because no sooner than I've suggested it has she jumped from bottom bunk to top.

"Come down, I don't bite."

"You were talking about blending me into a smoothie..."

"And you don't bite a smoothie."

“Don't you have someone else to terrorize?"

"I house enough terror for two."

Reina throws one of her plushies at me which I smack away mid-air with my spoon.

"Scary..."

"Agh! Now there's hair on my spoon... You've ruined breakfast, I hope you're happy."

"You can just get an-"

"I'm blaming you if I lose to Lexi."

"We have loads o-"

"If I come home with an L, I will be administering punishment."

"EMMA, HELP!!!"

"What's happening?" Emma replies from another room.

It’s time for me to split, I can deal with this when I get back. If I feel like it.

“Abel, are you harassing Reina?”

The second Emma steps foot into the room I make a mad dash for the exit.

“Hey! Get back here!”

***

Once I’m outside I let myself be drawn in by the sound of the ball.

Bounce, bounce, swish.

Bounce, bounce, swish.

Bounce, bounce, clank.

Seems my final opponent is practising free throws. I can appreciate someone who knows the importance of their fundamentals.

I wander towards the repetitive, relaxing sound, letting my footsteps fall in line with the rhythm as if I were walking alongside it. Despite my pace, I arrive at the source after only a couple of minutes. This compound isn't exactly the kind of place you could run a marathon in or even a 100-meter dash. Well maybe you could, you'd just have to practice stopping yourself before you went face-first into the wall.

Calling this a basketball court would be extremely generous. This is a basketball court the same way Main Street is a bedroom for exhibitionists. Someone plays basketball here, that's what makes it the basketball court. This is true despite the conspicuous lack of court and the pitiful excuse for a basket, of which there is only one. It's all been homemade, constructed by someone with an undoubted passion for the game.

I watch the person in question from the sideline. Her name is already known to me, so I have the advantage. Lexi dribbles around the line of chalk, which I assume must be the three-point line, and pulls up.

Clank.

A bad miss. Now's my chance to speak up.

"You didn't set your feet before you got into your shooting motion, you'll never score doing it like that."

She snaps her gaze to me, plastering a sly grin on her face when she registers me as her opponent before returning her attention to the hoop.

"Emma told me you were all wit and no charm. Wouldn't a snarky ‘disappointing’ have better suited your entrance?"

"Not really, you're exactly as hot and inadequate as I assumed you'd be."

"She really hit the nail on the head huh?"

Lexi goes back to shooting the ball.

Clank.

"Not bad for a miss."

Clank.

"If you keep practising you might make the school team next year."

Clank. Clank. Clank.

"We could add an extra 20 feet to the walls with all these bricks you're tossing up."

No reaction. Maybe she can't hear me, I should get closer. I step onto the court and loom over her from the side. She's doing a good job of ignoring me... for now.

She puts up another shot.

CLANK.

"You shoot like a paraplegic twink."

Lexi jerks her head up at me as she collects the ball which has kindly rolled back to her. She takes a few aggressive strides toward me, a stark contrast to her composed demeanour from moments ago.

"Hey don't shoot the messenger. With your aim, the bullet could go anywhere."

I brace myself for a slap as she walks right up to me. A hot head like this should be entertaining, they're always unpredictable.

Instead of the light pain of a slap that I was expecting, I am met with the sensation of a finger dividing my lips vertically. This is an odd way to assault me for sure but let's just see where this goes.

"No talking without the ball, court rules."

Oh. She's shushing me. This is unexpected, unwelcome. I snatch the ball from her. She was holding it loosely between her wrist and body so it didn't prove too difficult.

"As I was saying, your form could do with some work. It's ugly."

"I don't listen to people who won't prove they could do it better."

And she's done it, walked right into the trap I set up for her. This time it’s my turn to put a finger to her lips.

"So first of all, court rules."

I step behind the line, put up a shot that's as smooth as butter and drain it so cleanly it hits the support structure and bounces straight back to me.

"Second, I know what I'm talking about here. I've got form for days."

Lexi must be agitated as she goes for the ball I have lazily hanging at my side. I, of course, anticipated this so I go behind the back, switching it to my other hand.

Compared to me she's a rank amateur. I've spent a lot of weekends alone with nothing but a ball, a net and hours to spare. She's acting pretty composed for someone who just got served like that. I thought she'd be all riled up clawing at the ball but instead, she's relaxed, cocky even. Just standing there, smirk on her face, ball in her hands. Wait... when did she get the ball?

"So first of all, the rules don't apply to me, it's my court."

She starts bouncing the ball lazily behind her back.

"Second. All you've proved is that you know what you're doing, not that you know what you're talking about."

"Aren't those the-"

Smack. A face full of ball shuts me up. My lip is gushing blood. I look back over at my assailant. She's barely trying to hide her delight at how clean her shot was, square in the face. Must've been perfect because she has the ball in her hands as if it ricocheted off me straight back to her.

"You were talking without the ball again."

I wipe my mouth with the cuff of my sleeve to stop the bleeding. She's back to bouncing the ball behind her, taunting me with how lax she is.

"Tell you what,” she says, “beat me in a game of 1 on 1 and we might do something about these court rules."

Moving to the top of the key, she gets ready to check the ball, waiting for me to take her bait. The ball is bounced my way as soon as I take position.

"You know if all you wanted was a game you could've just asked."

"I got the feeling that if you wanted to play, you didn't want to be asked."

She seems to be under the impression that the match hasn't started yet. In truth, we're just adding a basketball to a battle of wits.

I start bouncing the ball and get to working up a rythm.

Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.

"So who am I facing right now?” I ask, “Who's my opponent?"

"Your opponent is me, do you see anyone else in front of you?"

There's never anyone in front of me but that's beside the point.

"And you're Lexi, right? That's your name?"

"Less than my name, it's what my friends call me."

Left, right. Left, right.

"What about people you're not so friendly with?"

"They usually call me Alex."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Alex."

As I fake a move to the right, Lexi bites on it and tries to block it off. I stop my drive on a dime, step back behind the line and let fly.

“Splash.”

"Not bad, you don't even have to be set to shoot."

The ball is passed my way with a bit more vigour this time.

"What good is the ability to shoot when you need someone else to set you up? That's barely ability; it's the talent of a leech that trusts its host not to find a more efficient bloodsucker."

"So you learned to shoot like that because you can't play nice with others?"

"I'm very capable of playing nice with others. I don't do it because I don't have to."

People tend to forget that giving up the ball means giving up your agency. Unless someone decides to give it back, you have handed control of the situation to someone else. At least if you shoot the game-winner by yourself and miss, you know it was your fault for not being good enough to make it and not a result of your idiotic decision to pass the rock to someone less capable of handling it.

"Oh. So you're the type that doesn't like doing what they're told just for the sake of doing what they're not."

"Well, I wouldn't say that."

"Of course not, because I just said it."

She takes this moment of indecision on my part to try and snatch the ball away. She fails.

"It's got nothing to do with what you said. I don't let others influence what I say or what I do."

"Is that so..."

She reaches again and fails again. I pull up for the easy two but clank it off the back iron and Lexi collects.

"Forgive me if I'm being a bit of a cynic but I'll never think much of a self-proclaimed rebel wearing a shirt and tie."

I'm suddenly very conscious that I'm still wearing the uniform of a school I no longer go to. Lexi, seeing that I’m lost in thought, decides this is the opportunity to try and blow by me for an easy layup. My positioning is perfect though and I block her easily and retain the ball.

"What's that meant to mean?"

"Why are you wearing your school uniform?"

"Because they're my clothes. Do I need a reason to wear my clothes?"

"Can I assume you attended school every day like the good student you are then?"

"I wasn't sent here because my attendance record was somehow too good. How does that even follow?"

"If you wear your uniform because it's yours and it is to be worn, shouldn't you go to school because it's yours and it is to be gone to?"

"Apples and oranges. I don't get to choose what school I go to."

"So you chose those clothes then? The school crest is a fashion statement is it?"

"These clothes might have been given to me but I can still choose to wear them."

"And yet you're not wearing something else."

"I don't think about the clothes I wear I just put them on, they're a means to an end."

"I can believe that you don't think about the clothes you're wearing. If you were thinking about it, you wouldn't wear something that so blatantly proclaims you a fraud."

"When did the shirt and tie combo become the universal shorthand for fraud?"

"Nothing universal about it, I'm saying you specifically shouldn't be wearing it."

"You think you know more about what I should be wearing than I do?"

"No, I only seem to know more about what you shouldn't be wearing."

"Tell me why I shouldn't be wearing it then, I still don't see the issue."

"A rebel doesn't wear the collar his master gives him. If you were skipping school while still wearing its uniform, it's only because no one told you not to button up your shirt."

"Your point?"

"You're not a rebel you're a contrarian."

"Is there a difference?"

"Not to a contrarian."

It's too late to turn the tables on this conversation with words alone. Luckily this is a war being fought on two different fronts. I square up and drain a shot right over her face.

"We're still playing?"

"I don't remember stopping, not even for a second."

A smile crawls across her face, somewhere halfway between evil and genuine. Perhaps it's just genuinely evil.

"I like you, you've got real resilience."

She bounces the ball towards me.

"Let's lighten up on some of those ‘court rules’. I'll allow you to talk, so long as you're winning, sound fair?"

"I don't exactly talk to lose anyway."

I drive hard to the right in an attempt to blow by her, she again does well to keep up with me but I'm too strong and lay the ball up and in with ease.

"You don't play with any grace."

"Grace is a style only allowed for in the face of the opposition's weakness. Take it as a compliment."

"Do your compliments always come in the form of elbows to the chin and sophistry?"

"You're imagining one of those and I'll never admit to the other."

She checks the ball to me and I start to dribble back into rhythm. This possession isn't just about scoring but dragging something out of my opponent as I do so.

Left, right. Left, Right. Left, right.

"You talked just now as if you're some sort of expert on rebellion."

"I seem to know a great deal more about it than you do"

"And you can tell that from the clothes I wear?"

"That's right."

"Then what can I tell by the clothes that you're wearing?"

"That playing basketball is on my agenda, whether that be past, present or future. Although the game of basketball we're currently meant to be playing could probably convey that."

I pull up from where I'm standing and drain another shot. Lexi checks the ball to me. Again.

"So why are you a rebel for wearing a jersey to a court when I'm a contrarian for wearing a tie to an institution?"

"Because I'm not rebelling against things just for the sake of it. What good would I be doing playing by myself in lingerie? I've got no beef with the concept of basketball unless you count three-second violations."

"Alright, so what is it that you're rebelling against?"

"The same thing you think you are, I hate the city that won't let me be who I am unless I'm somewhere no one else can see."

"And what do you wear to convey that?"

"A skirt and earrings."

"Anything else?"

"Depends what kind of day it is"

"And what about that outfit is rebellious?"

"isn't it pretty self-explanatory?"

"Just because the same thing is mutually self-explanatory doesn't mean that the same meaning is conveyed to both of us."

"I'm wearing girls' clothes in the male half of the city, the people in charge don't like that."

"So because you choose to dress like a slut, you're a rebel?”

"You got it first try, well done."

"Then did you also choose what constitutes girls' clothing?"

"Of course not, how could I?"

"So you're not really a rebel."

"You're only saying that because I said that I was."

"Even if I am that only makes the point disingenuous, not ingenuine."

"Ok then I'll humour you, how am I not a rebel?"

"Well let's say someone told me not to wear a skirt, I would wear it in protest, I reject that authority on principle. You would wear a skirt even if no one was telling you you couldn't. You don't oppose the authority that says that you aren't valid on any principle matter, you just want it to say that you are."

"Well of course I want my peers, my world, to accept me. If I broke the rules just to break them I'd be a rebel without a cause."

"A rebel can only be without cause."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"A rebel is someone who wants to see revolution, a 'rebel' who envisions a revolution with an end is a hypocrite."

"So in your mind, this never ends?"

"Of course not, I'm no optimist."

"That's a really sad existence."

Lexi tries to drive by me again and it's the same story, I block her easily. She retains the ball this time. I see her getting into rhythm again.

"You think I can't block you a 4th time? Or a 5th or a 6th?"

"So what, should I give up?"

"At least try something different."

"Where exactly do you think you are? Would I be here if I could just ‘try something different’?"

She posts me up again and clanks another fade away, same thing again on the next possession. I don't even bother trying to go for the rebound, she'll tire herself out if she keeps doing this and I'll win by default. She backs up into me once more.

"How long will you keep going?"

"It's more a question of how long I can. My will is considerably stronger than my legs are."

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?"

"You really don't understand the type of place you're in do you?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out."

"Well here's a hint..."

She puts up a jumper that doesn't even hit the rim, grabs the ball and posts me up again.

"What does this city love to do with people?" she shouts as she catches her breath.

"Put them in boxes."

"Not just that, it also loves binaries."

"That should go without saying."

"And because it goes without saying you don't think about it. It's not like there's only one binary that dictates life in this city."

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you here?"

"I'm tired of answering that question. I'm here because there's nowhere else for me."

"Exactly. Now, why weren't you sent to the other disciplinary school?"

"Because I'm not quite irredeemable yet."

"I thought you weren't an optimist."

"I'm not."

"Then you've got it backwards, you're not in the ‘good’ disciplinary school if there even is such a thing. Regardless, you're definitely in the worse one, the one for criminals of a very specific type."

"So what makes this place different to the other one?"

"It's pretty simple, this place is for rebels the other is for contrarians."

"You really do love being obtuse don't you?"

"Only because you seem to hate it so much, makes it all so much more fun."

She says that but there's no hint of that grin from earlier, if anything her expression seems pretty serious.

"Me. Emma. Reina. We’re here and not there because we aren't useful to anyone anymore. A contrarian is a troublemaker you can turn into a usable citizen, a rebel is someone who can never be swayed into accepting circumstances the way they are. It's been decided that we will never be useful, so we've been hidden away to not disturb the status quo."

Her breath is ragged now, she's too tired to be really be talking while playing but she's doing it anyway.

"And that leaves us with two choices. We can lay down and die, try something different in the name of fitting in…"

She gathers the ball and holds it away from me.

"...or we can continue doing the same thing we've been doing from the start, being the same people that don't work, that will never have a place the way things are now...."

She jumps away from me and gets ready to let fly. For a moment she floats in the air, about to shoot her shot. The image of potential, both of success and of failure. Right now she is the coin in the air that hasn't been told whether it's heads or tails.

"And hope the world changes around us."

Lexi shoots the off-balance shot over me. I want to see if she makes it, I need to see, I need it to go in.

But she's falling to the ground, she shot that way off balance, she's going to land hard on her back. My instincts carry me to her outstretched hand and I grab it just before she hits the ground. She dangles backwards for a second, looking back at me in surprise. Or maybe she's looking through me, maybe she too knows the importance of the shot she just took.

"Did you make it?"

I don't pull her up, I don't check if she's ok. All I’m capable of doing in this moment is to ask her a question that's more important than anything has ever been.

"I don't know, you were in the way."