✅ My Sister's Problem

111. Not Knocked Out

This bonus chapter is dedicated to Jay. Thank you for all your support!

I was looking around for Lindy, wondering which sport she had chosen, when I spotted a sketchbook visible at the upstairs window of one of the cafés around the outside of the town. There were a lot of places that would let the artists go upstairs so they could have an unobstructed view of the athletes, and I was sure Lindy would be in one of them. I walked around the corner, so that I could see who was on this particular balcony. It wasn't Lindy; it was a guy of about fifteen whose hair could have been taken for Lindy's in silhouette. But as soon as I turned the corner, my attention was drawn to the game he was watching. I could recognise the rhythm of a hard ball hitting asphalt instantly. Another five minutes passed, and I was standing at the registration desk, signing up for the basketball contest. The top five teams would get bronze, silver, or gold medals; with all except the first being able to nominate a single player to receive a medal one grade up.

Unfortunately, I didn't know anyone else who played basketball around here, so I would be put in a team with a bunch of people I didn't even know. And I was sure that would make it a bit harder to work as a team, but on the other hand it would be a new challenge. And I'd played more than a couple of pick-up games with Hugo and his friends, so I was sure it was something I was capable of doing.

That made me think about Hugo again, and wonder what he was doing right now. I wanted to know that he hadn't forgotten about me so soon, but I still couldn't contact him. I didn't have my phone with me, because so many of the sports didn't have enough space to store stuff securely during a game, and I really didn't want to fall on it. I guessed that I could have asked Mum to let me take it so that I could send some messages between games and then pass it back to her, but I had only thought of that after we left the beach house. And now, I had all the time I needed to talk to the guy I missed so much; but I didn't have my phone. I couldn't stop imagining what he could have said, from the best outcome to the worst. And it was depressing that the best I could think of was him not having paid attention to any of my messages, and completely oblivious to my days as a child.

Was I really glad about the possibility that the guy I trusted most didn't know my secrets? I wanted to believe in a possible world where he knew and was okay with my wanting to be a child occasionally; but there was no way that could be true even in my wildest dreams. Secrecy was the best I could hope for.

"Hey, you Sally?" a tall guy with a Cuban accent greeted me. The other members of my team, I guessed. They gave their names, but I forgot them a second later. While we were playing, I found myself thinking of them as Beanstalk, Beard, Punk, and Gimli. I knew that wasn't fair, but we only had a few minutes to get acquainted before our first game, and most of that was spent in a practice game, tossing the ball around so we could get an idea of each other's skills. That was Beard's idea, and I thought it was a good one. The Cuban guy would be an asset to our team, I thought. He had the long stride and the reach, but didn't seem to know how to avoid a tackle, so I resolved that if he was anywhere near the hoop I would pass to him to take the shot; in defence he would be a lot less useful.

Then we were on to the first match. We were inexperienced and didn't know each other that well, so it was mostly luck that carried us through that time. I quickly realised that Beard and Punk had real skills; they had played a lot before. Beanpole was used to relying on his build, and would be in trouble as soon as the opponents started targeting him. The big surprise to me was Gimli, who was built more like a miniature wrestler than a typical basketball player. But I found out pretty quickly that I'd been underestimating him because of his stature. He had Hugo's talent for being aware of where everyone on the whole court was, and it was pretty much guaranteed that when I was almost surrounded, he would be dashing out into open space where nobody else expected him to be. A couple of times in that first game, it seemed like he was reading my mind; turning up exactly where I needed him to be. And passing to me when I was open, taking it for granted that I would turn to see him at the right moment.

We made a good team. The first game, luck was on our side. The second, our opponents were a shambles. They all had jerseys with the name of a football team on, so I could only guess that this was their second choice sport; they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses pretty well, but I doubted any of them had spent more than a couple of hours on a basketball court in the last year.

The tournament was structured as a double-knockout. We would be matched at random against another team, and the organisers would try to put us against a team with the same number of wins and losses if possible. A team with three losses was out of the contest; they could wait until the end of the competition to see if they had enough wins to earn medals, or leave sooner with just a participation prize. As more teams were knocked out, the matches would go on until there was a clear winner, and then the silver and bronze medals would be awarded based on a metric that combined the number of wins with the total score.

As we waited for our third match, we had a little time to compliment each other. Gimli told me I'd done good; Punk said I'd been lucky to be where the ball was a couple of times, and also commented that Gimli – I think the name he used might have been Gowan – was dragging the team down because he was so short.

"Dude," Beard interrupted. "If you're gonna be rude, at least be right. Guy got major skills for always being where the other team aren't. When I want to pass to you, half the other guys are between us, and the other half are between you and the hoop. Try to pay attention to where your teammates are. Where there's space. It's not luck that these two are always where they need to be. It's having a good mental image of the court, and knowing their tactics."

"Thanks," Gimli said with a smile, and offered a hand to shake. "I know I've got a reach handicap, I coach more than I play at home. Just wanted to do it different here. And you're holding your own at knowing where to be."

"Thanks. My game's usually hockey, but I think a lot of the tactics are the same."

"Cool," I grinned. "I do hockey too. Inline here, but I'm on the local quads team too. Not many players in our area."

"Ah, field hockey for me, I don't think I could keep up with skates. But you do good. Play basketball much?"

"Only recently," I admitted. "Been trying to learn for a while, but my neighbour started teaching me this summer, and I think he's really good."

"I think you've got potential," Beardy said, and treated me to a toothy grin. I wasn't sure if he was hitting on me, but I noticed that he was paying attention to me in the next game, and seemed to respect me as a member of the team. Moreso than Punk, who continued to be out of position, or Beanpole, who seemed to know where he was supposed to be but had trouble getting there. I treated them all with the same respect I would any player in Hugo's pick-up games back home; as we won one game after another, it seemed that we had enough skill between us to make up for each other's deficiencies. After a while, Gimli picked up enough confidence to suggest strategies before each play; and it turned out that was where his real strength lay. Seven games later, we came up against a local team who had actually played together before. It was our first loss, and it was still a close thing; making us even more determined that we were going to win.

By the end of the tournament, we were one of the last teams remaining. We didn't win; not in an event with a couple of semi professional teams, when most of my experience was with fewer players on the court, and Punk still wouldn't listen to us, insisting that all his experience in a video game made him the team captain.

We got a place good enough to earn bronze medals. And when we voted for the MVP who would get the team's silver, it was hard to judge. I think I would have given it to Beard, the best all-rounder and the one who constantly pushed to motivate us. But I wasn't surprised when the consensus meant that Gimli just edged it out. I stood on the podium for the second time that day; doing better than I had in any previous year. But then as I received my medal, I realised that I would need to move quickly to get to the starting line.

"Damn," I mumbled. "I'm going to be late for the marathon!"

"Wow, you still got that much energy?" Beanpole muttered, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Good luck," Beard offered. "For the marathon, and with that guy."

"Is it that obvious?" I said with a blush, but then I really had to go. I jogged across the square, hoping that I wasn't going to turn up late for the start of my fourth and final event.