The teacher disappeared briefly into the utility closet and emerged moments later with a grin stretched wide across his face.
"Alright, class! Today's game is a classic no teams, no limits on who you play with. Just dodgeball. Just fun."
No one cheered. No one groaned.
The boys simply moved, lining bright rubber balls neatly along the half-court line like weapons waiting to be claimed.
Ken leaned against the stage where Portia's backpack sat abandoned, his gaze locked on her across the gym. Today felt different. He'd told himself decided that he was done hiding how he felt.
A light tap broke his focus.
Ten stood beside him, jerking his head toward a growing cluster of friends. "C'mon."
"Yeah," Ken said absently, eyes never leaving her.
He needed to know where she was playing. Wherever she landed that's where he wanted to be.
Then Joe moved toward her.
Something sharp flared in Ken's chest, and he pushed off the stage just as she grabbed her bag, caught Joe's hand, and ran laughing as she dragged him clear across the gym to the opposite side. She disappeared into a circle of friends, instantly surrounded by warmth and noise.
Ken slowed.
Across the gym, Julian stood frozen, staring at the empty space she'd left behind. Langston nudged him, nodding toward her before clapping a hand on his shoulder and steering him back toward their group.
"Serves him right," Ten muttered. "She'll never play on his side."
Ken tied his laces tighter than necessary and moved to the front line.
The whistle blew.
Chaos exploded.
Balls flew. Sneakers squeaked. Bodies twisted and ducked. The gym dissolved into motion and noise, the rhythm relentless. For thirty maybe forty minutes, it was pure adrenaline.
Then
Thwap.
Ken felt it before he fully understood it.
Out.
He dropped to the bench, frustration buzzing under his skin, eyes instantly finding Portia.
She was still in.
Still moving.
Still untouched.
She weaved across the court like water, dodging throw after throw from Julian, Langston, and David. Their focus narrowed entirely to her, their throws harder, faster, more reckless.
Especially Julian.
Ken bounced restlessly on the bench. Tag me in, he thought wildly. Let me take them for you.
But she didn't need saving.
She laughed.
Actually laughed bright and free as she slipped past another ball like it had never existed. And then she started singing, breathless but clear.
"On the edge, we're running"
A ball skimmed past her shoulder. Another smacked into the wall.
Ten slid down beside Ken. Joe leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Remember," Ten said quietly, "if it hits the back wall after she dodges, thrower's out."
As if summoned by the rule, Portia twisted aside and let a ball slam into the wall behind her.
Out.
Gasps rippled through the gym.
"Feet don't fail me now" she sang, spinning away from another throw, hair flying, smile blazing.
She wasn't just dodging.
She was performing.
Every move deliberate. Every escape a challenge.
Julian's jaw clenched as he scooped up ball after ball, hurling them in rapid succession one, two, three, four desperate now.
"Long way down"
She ducked low, slid across the floor, popped back up like she was untouchable.
The gym had gone quiet.
Everyone was watching her.
She stopped near the boundary line, chest heaving, arms stretched wide in defiance, daring them to try again.
Ken's heart pounded painfully.
She looked invincible.
Julian smirked.
He set the final ball down carefully.
Too carefully.
Ken's breath caught.
Julian took a step back, lining up for a theatrical kick, eyes locked on Portia like this was something he needed had to prove.
Ken stood without realizing it.
"Portia"
The whistle hadn't blown.
The ball hadn't moved yet.
But something in her expression shifted just for a split second. The smile faltered. Her shoulders tightened.
And for the first time all game, Ken saw it.
Not fear.
But fatigue.
And suddenly, the entire gym felt like it was holding its breath.
