Clark Gets Hit in the Paint

My short nap leaves me feeling wide awake. Or maybe it was the panic-inducing episode in the girls’ room. Either way, I feel like I’ve had two or three strong cups of coffee, and now I can get through the rest of the afternoon.

Sophie, on the other hand, conks back out not long after we make our escape from Sabrina. I guess the excitement is too much for her.

After study hall is gym class. Back home, there was only one P.E. class that everyone had to take. At this school, I got to choose from a few different options depending on what I was more interested in. I couldn’t make up my mind, so I went with one called Lifetime Sports, mostly because it sounds laid back. It’s also taught near the end of the day, so I don’t have to worry about showering with a bunch of obnoxious guys or feeling grubby all day.

One thing that is the same between gym class here and gym class back home is that it’s co-ed. For a class that’s about sports you can play for fun as an adult, that makes sense. The only problem is that Sabrina is in this class with me, too.

Until yesterday, having gym with Sabrina would have been a nice bonus. Now it kind of feels like I have a private detective following me around. The fact that I like the private detective a lot doesn’t make it easier, oddly enough. It doesn’t help that my gym t-shirt is a little too baggy on me, while the shorts are a little too short for comfort. I look like an idiot.

Sabrina’s gym clothes, on the other hand, fit like she had them tailored. Which isn’t totally outside the realm of possibility for her.

“Feeling better, Clark?” Sabrina asks, idly messing with the basketball she’s holding. I feel a sudden spike of panic. Did she figure out that it was me in the girls’ bathroom after all?!

I stammer despite my best efforts. “Um, I... I don’t know what you mean?” Smooth. That’ll really throw her off the scent.

She raises one eyebrow. “Your stomach? During study hall you ran off to the boys’ room in a hurry.” Sabrina tosses the basketball up and catches it, eyes on me. “You’re not sick, are you? Because it’s irresponsible to spread colds and the flu to your fellow students.”

I comb a hand through my hair. “Uh, no. Not sick. The Salisbury steak at lunch must have made me queasy, or something.” I don’t remember anything about talking to Sabrina during study hall. That must have been Sophie’s doing. Thanks, Sophie, for apparently picking the least attractive way to get me out of that conversation. To say nothing of the chaos of walking me into the wrong bathroom…

“We’re doing three-on-three basketball this week,” Sabrina says, thankfully moving on from my alleged bathroom emergency. “You’ll be in my group.”

That’s almost nice of her. I honestly don’t know if Sabrina knows the difference between extending an invitation and issuing a command. But looking around the gym, most of the class is already separated into groups of six. Maybe she’s just stating a fact.

“Okay.” It’s either that or sit on the bleachers all period and get a zero for the day. Besides, I still don’t have actual proof that Sabrina is trying to dig up dirt on me. She’s just really intense. I can’t let Sophie’s accusations and my own new-found paranoia ruin what could be a perfectly nice hangout with Sabrina, after all.

The two other girls on Sabrina’s team of three are from a different homeroom. On my team is another girl from a different class, and, for some reason, Foley. It’s immediately clear he’s going to spend the entire period doing his best not to look directly at me. He must still be shaken up about Sophie’s little stunt from yesterday. I have no problem with this.

We arrange ourselves on an unoccupied half-court. Sabrina is the first to go for the jump ball, but having longer arms means I manage to snag the ball before she can. Not wasting any time, I rush past the rest of Sabrina’s team and get an easy lay-up. It’s nice to be in a situation involving Sabrina where I’m not going to be on defense the entire time. Literally. This time, I’m not going to settle for second place.

And if she is trying to figure something out about me and, by extension, Sophie, she might back off a bit if I can convince her I’m not just some weirdo with a delicate stomach and a secret.

“You can actually play,” Sabrina remarks. She doesn’t bother critiquing her teammates, who sort of just stood there and let me run by. Some people just get through gym because they don’t have a choice about being there, and it’s pointless to worry about it. “You don’t look like the type.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, preening a little despite myself. I’m not that bad at basketball, even though I never tried out for any teams. “What type do I look like?”

Sabrina considers for a moment, a thin line forming between her brows. “Nothing, I guess.”

Ah. I stop preening. My fault, really, for trying to be cute.

Once Sabrina gets the ball, her teammates manage to clear a path for her by executing a standard pick-and-roll, which totally baffles my team. Sabrina gracefully steps around me, and I’m left sprinting after her, just barely knocking the ball out of bounds before she can take her shot. It’s a bit dirty, but it’s the best way to kill momentum.

After fifteen minutes of this, my team is ahead, 30 to 18. It’ll feel nice to win a game against Sabrina, and I intend to be a gracious winner. Not that I feel too puffed about it, though. Both of our teams kind of suck, no offense to them. The game might as well be a one on one. Sabrina’s teammates can handle basic defense as long as Sabrina tells them exactly what to do, but they can’t do much else, and I’m able to run circles around them for lay-ups. My team, on the other hand, has no interest in playing, and even Foley can’t pass to save his life. It probably doesn’t help that he thinks I’m demon-possessed, or something.

Sabrina, on the other hand, has sunk six three-pointers, and is responsible for every point her team has scored. I’m still holding my own, though. She’s probably a little better than I am on a technical level, she certainly has a better shooting form, but I have better reach and I’m faster than she is.

I’m faster until I start to get tired, anyway. Maybe I was too excited to show off in front of Sabrina, but I’m slowing down, getting clumsy. Once, I even hit my own shoe with the ball while I’m dribbling, and it bounces off only for Sabrina to snatch it up. It’s getting dicier to make shots I’m taking too, unless I’m right up under the basket. Sabrina steals the ball from me more than once, since there’s no hope of my teammates keeping her away from me.

In the space of three minutes, my lead evaporates. I can’t even stall. Sabrina steals the ball from me more than once, since there’s no hope of my teammates keeping her away from me. On top of that, Foley stumbles into her and fouls, so she gets a free throw.

All I can do is stand and watch, sweat stains spreading on my t-shirt. My face is probably all red, too. Why didn’t I think of that before I got so competitive?! I must look and smell disgusting. Kind of the opposite of what most girls find attractive, and I’m losing, too!

I feel a small glimmer of hope when the ball bounces off the rim of the basket, but one of the girls on Sabrina’s team manages to catch it and passes it to her. I’m too far away and way too tired to stop her, and she makes a basket. Now her team is ahead by two points, just like that.

There’s only a few seconds left before the game’s over. Maybe it’s petty, but knowing I could still at least get us back to being tied gives me a boost of energy. The way Sabrina has her team zoned means I can’t rely on running past them for a lay up. I’m tired enough that I might miss, anyway. Sabrina’s guarding me, and assuming I manage to get around her to make a normal shot, she might foul me on purpose to make me take a free throw instead. I’m not confident I can sink a free throw right now. It’s too much pressure.

It’s possibly a dumb idea, but I’m sort of tall and can get up the energy for one try. I’m going to try to dunk. Who knows, maybe it’s not as hard as it looks? I’ve never tried it before.

Somehow, I’m able to break free from Sabrina and rush for the basket. Her teammates stay under the basket, likely told by Sabrina to stand their ground as the most optimal move. There’s a familiar feeling of running faster than I should be able to. I jump up like the floor’s turned into a trampoline and slam the ball through the hoop.

I went a little harder than I meant to, maybe. The rim of the basket shears off the backboard, and I land hard on the floor, staggering a couple steps before toppling over on my back, hand still gripping the broken rim.

…Am I going to have to pay for the basketball hoop? I drop the rim as the gym teacher hurries over to see what the commotion was. Foley stares at me, white as a sheet, while the rest of our respective teams laugh and chatter among themselves. Sabrina is quiet, looking from me, up to the broken backboard, and back to me. She looks thoughtful, and not upset in the least. Quite the opposite, actually, like she’s having fun.

Man, she’s really going to be on my case now, isn’t she? I’m such an idiot.