Stafford High School. Allie Casas is her coach's right hand. But due to his poor health, she must step in despite the challenges ahead.
Osborne High School. With a sharp eye and a natural talent for shooting three-pointers, Robbie Sparks is the star...
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It's a shot in the dark, but I'm gonna try it anyway.
Pedestrians left and right cross my path as I leisurely walk in the shopping centre near my home. My gaze travels from one shopping window to the next, to the people in front of me, to the ones behind me. I've seen dozens of groups of girl friends here, but she wasn't in them.
She's nowhere to be found.
I sigh and stop walking.
I've tried for several days to roam around this place with hopes of finding Allie Casas shopping at some point. A whole week has passed, and I've failed to locate her.
This is the shopping centre that's closest to the subway stop where we first met. Maybe she doesn't come here to shop. Who knows?
A high-pitched giggling behind me calls my attention. I turn and, to my amazement, a cute, small dog gets near my feet to smell me. Its white curls are cute.
"Snow, stop it!" its owner says.
My eyes travel up the leash, where I find a gentle, small, feminine hand. Up that arm, I find a face. It's not Allie. It's a seventeen-year-old girl I've seen many times before.
It's... well, I think I remember her name correctly. If I'm not wrong, this is Jane Atkinson, younger sister of Shaun Atkinson, the captain of the basketball team of Stafford High. He's in his 13th year, like me, and she's just one year younger than us.
"Oh, Sparks. Hi. How are you doing?" she says. "I'm awfully sorry! My dog is a bit nosey."
"Don't worry about it." I smile at her.
We've known each other for three years, ever since her brother and I clashed on the court in our 11th year, our final year of GCSEs.
Hurried footsteps echo behind me. "Jane! Hi! I'm sorry for being late," a feminine voice I recognise well says.
I turn, and there she is.
Her long, chocolate-brown hair cascades over her shoulders in untamed waves as she runs to us. Her loose white shirt clings to her figure as the air rushes past her. Her chest heaves due to the effort. Her long, golden earrings dangle left and right as she moves. Faded, blue, high-wasted jeans fit her perfectly, leaving no curve to the imagination. They are a flattering fit for her slender figure, and they elongate her legs in a stylistically pleasing view.
When she sees me, her eyes open wide, and her mouth falls open in a noiseless gasp. "Sparks," she eventually says.
"I see you already know him," Atkinson says.
"Yes, we played a friendly match last week," Casas replies.
"Oh, yeah," Atkinson says. "Now I remember! My brother mentioned something about you being great at coaching in a real match."
"He exaggerates, as usual," Casas replies, blushing just a bit. "I've still got a lot to learn."
"You could've fooled me, Casas," I say with a nice smile. "My coach was truly impressed, by the way. He gave us a speech about you and your team improving a lot after you left. Said you are a true source of inspiration when it comes to a great can-do spirit. Said you're... a menace."
