Bookish London

Chapter 8 - Kyle

After lunch, I walk with my friends towards the boys’ locker room, near the gym, because we have basketball lesson first period in the afternoon.
“Hey Kyle, what were you doing with the Cuthbert girl this morning, before school?” asks William innocently.
“Nothing much, I just gave the writing notebook she always carries around back to her after she left it at the coffee shop she and Kayla went to for breakfast, you know which one.” I explain simply.
No need to tell them I got nervous every time her hand brushed mine when she tried to snatch her notebook back from my hands…no need, no.
“What, what’re you thinking about, there, Kyle? You seem awfully distracted…” says Alex.
“I’m not, Alex. I’m just thinking about the exams approaching for the next few weeks...” and the lab work you have to do with your subtle crush-academic enemy Liz for history/literature about Shakespeare and his time…I’m not thinking about THAT, Brain. Yes, you are. No, I’m not. 
I’m your brain, I think what you think. Sorry, what-? You think what I think, bro. 
I still don’t get what you mean…I am your brain; I know what your conscience really wants you to say. 
Meaning? Meaning you like her but won’t admit it to your own brain and heart! 
But I don’t! But you do! I DO NOT!
“Everything okay, Kyle? What’s going on? Why are you screaming, suddenly?” yells Duncan from his changing bench two rows ahead of mine, looking at me sternly.
“I just- I was-” I blurt out half sentences with no meaning while recollecting my dignity, which fell way more than 6 feet under the floor.
“You were thinking in your head, as always?” Alex says ironically.
“Y-yeah, I was. How did you know?” I ask him, anxiety creeping up on me…Did they know I did this more than once?
And told me nothing about it?!
“Typical reader malfunction.” William decrees knowingly.
They all nod in agreement, to my discomfort.
“Excuse me, what are you all talking about?” I say, irritated.
“Oh, come on, you idiot, we’re just having a laugh. Chill. It’s like you have your nerves on the edge of your skin, jeez. Calm down.” Duncan speaks, breaking the tension their little joke had made up throughout the locker room.
“Now can we please get ready and go to class? Ms Fellon doesn’t like slow walkers, and you all remember what she gave us to do the last time we were late…” Alex says affirms, terror in his eyes from the fresh memory of his 50 lunges, crunches, squats and push-ups she had us do as a penance for our tardiness.
“Yes, we can, Alex, don’t worry.”
I grin at him, while throwing on my gym shirt and lacing my shoes.
We walk out the locker room and make our way to class. Just about five minutes later, the bell rings.
“Barely on time, we were…it was a miracle, really.” William declares as we admire our huge gym, that stretches out in front of us in all her magnificence and grace.
We start doing warm-ups with: a slow jog around the gym’s basketball court for a few times; 15 minutes of stretching, both static and dynamic; 50 or 100 runs up and down along the side of the court, running forwards and backwards, side shuffles, leg crossovers, etc; 5 x 10m out and back short sprints and then 5 zigzag runs.
At that moment Ms Fellon walks in and looks us up and down with an almost satisfied look in her icy blue eyes.
“You put your arses to work, did you, boys?” she utters, in a very unpleasant tone.
Every time she speaks, I’d rather hit myself in the foot with a hammer than hear her tone of dislike.
She hates me because I’m too good not to be part of her class, but also not diligent enough for her likes.
“Yes, Ms.” We say, as manners want us to.
“Now, now, class. It’s time to start with your drills. You’ll do your shoots in pairs, and if the need occurred, pairs in league for the same spot in the podium will compete against one another in a short match. The winning pair at the end of the game will have an A in this class. Guaranteed.”
Ms Fellon declares.
I see Liz and Kayla pair up as I simultaneously do so with Duncan, and Alex does with William.
We huddle up and say, staring intently at each other: “Whichever of us makes it, we all win.”
We throw our four right hands in the middle and yell, laughing: “Four brains are better than one in a competition, four hearts beat better than one in a race.”
All four of us turn to the right side of the gym, knowing very well we won’t be competing against each other.
As Ms Fellon yells “GO!” I run towards the middle line of the court and spin around, feeling a swooshing sound in sync with mine move at the same time.
I hear Weston’s voice say: “Ready, Liz?” and a strong, decisive “YES!” from Elizabeth, the girl whose back was barely inches away from mine.
I could sense the anxiety and nervousness I had felt earlier that morning, which I still did not entirely want to recognize.
The one thing I knew then, and know now too, is that I feel like this whenever she’s this close to me…it has never happened with anyone before…I feel compelled by her, not her beauty, though. Not that she lacks any, truly, but I am compelled by her brain, by her intelligence and her lust for notions just as strong as mine, despite society’s designs.
I snap back from my trance, noticing Ms Fellon looking at me pointedly.
She must be getting mad I haven’t thrown the ball in that darn hoop yet.
Let’s change that, just to appease her.
To that end, I stare directly at Duncan and say: “Shoot, Duncan Wallace.”
And he shoots the ball in a perfect arc, not high enough to make a too short throw, but not low enough to make it so, either.
I grab the ball and shoot at the basket, marking a perfect three-point shot, letting my ball do a 90 degrees arc through the air, and land perfectly into the hoop.
I run off to recuperate our ball, while Duncan positions himself in my spot.
We continue like this until Ms Fellon whistles the end of our boy girl competition and yells: “STOP!”.
She calls a circle in the middle of our gym, and orders to me and a couple of other boys to take the podium we have for our competitions and bring it at the centre of the circle.
We do as we’re told, and then sit back with the others in the circle.
Ms Fellon takes place in front of the platform and says, regarding occasionally a sheet of paper, where she must’ve appointed our scores, and says: “Thirds came Charlie Barkworth and Austin Bennett, with 30 shots; seconds, by six shots, Allie Brooks and Brenda Carmichael, with 36. And in first place we have a tie-in: Carter and Wallace, with Cuthbert and Weston are both in the lead with 40.”
Me and Liz in the lead, against each other…sounds familiar…for once, I had one subject in which I could top her, and she can win this too!? It’s surreal! I must set this right…with some help from my best friend Duncan.
“Of course, as you all know, there can be only one winning pair, so…let the tie-break match begin!” she yells, and all of our classmates run up to the bleachers, except for me, Duncan, Liz and Kayla.
“Ready, Carter?” Liz asks me, smirking.
“I was born ready, darling.” I respond, confidently.
Unfortunately, I’m not as confident with the ball dribbling between my hands and, before I know it, she has stolen it from my moving hands and thrown it to her bestie, for her to shoot at the hoop.
Worse so, she scores.
“Darn it!” I swear under my breath. Duncan comes next to me, as Ms Fellon orders one of our classmates to go pick up the ball, and whispers, giving me a pat on the back: “Keep calm, Kyle. We’ve got this, as always. Don’t worry. It was only the first shot; we can still win.”
That last phrase echoed back at me as they shot and shot winning points in our hoop. And at every score they make, Duncan looks at me, hope still brightly spurting from his eyes.
Poor fool, we cannot win this.
But still, as he said, before: We can try.
As I listen to myself repeating those three words back and forth in my mind, I steal the ball from the opposing team’s hands time and time again, and shoot several scores, for which Duncan hits me with a high five multiple times.
The match ends, though, with Liz and Kayla’s victory.
Duncan and me, I think, accept this loss honourably and go back to our other two best friends.
Still, when we’re far away from the two girls’ glares of superiority, we stare at each other in disappointment.
“You were great,” says William encouragingly, with a fake smile of pride on his face.
“You could’ve done better, though.” Alex adds.
Not helping the situation, Alexander!
We stare at him.
“I mean, you both were almost completely drooling over Elizabeth and Kayla. Be real.” He explains.
I shush him up abruptly, as I see Liz and Kayla walking down the hallway. As they go to walk past us with their friends, Liz and Kayla stop in front of us.
“You played well; I must admit.” Liz says. She smirks, looking towards her best friend.
“Thanks.” I answer, just for pure courtesy.
“See you at the next competition, Carter.” Liz yells at me as she walks away.
“Sure will, Cuthbert.” I speak.
“You’ll lose.” She adds.
And then she was gone behind the corner going into the other corridor.