Basketball: The Focus

Chapter 2

IBy the next day at school, I'm totally over it. I mean, sure I cringe every time I think about it and wish I'd never had the idiotic idea in the first place, but now it's time to embrace my inner idiot and move on. I made a stupid mistake and paid the price. There's nothing I can do about it now. (but really, who moves to a new town and three weeks later decides to try out for their all-star basketball team? You get why I'm an idiot?)

I listen to upbeat music while I get ready. I make chatty conversation with Seth and his mom during breakfast. I smile as Seth and I board the bus. At school I make my way through the crowded halls to my first class. Newport is a good school. By now I've settled in to my routine. Changing schools may be hard the first time, but you get used to it after awhile.

During lunch, a kid approaches me. He looks sick, like he's ready to lose everything he's got. He walks up and stand in front of me, tense body, fingers clinched into tight fists. All I can do is stare.

"Hi" he croaks. Yep, definitely getting the terrified out of your wits vibe. (trust me, I'm familiar) But somehow his sweat and awkwardness have managed to captivate me. I'm curious.

"Hi," I respond, being sure it comes out clear. This conversation can only handle so much awkward.

"My name's Thomas" he tells me.

"Nice to meet you" I hesitate over the common phrase. It's not exactly nice. I feel like people are staring, and that's rarely a good thing.

He clears his throat. Good, we're finally getting to the point. "I think I saw you at try outs the other day."

Great, this again. I'm pretty sure this horse died along time ago. "Maybe" is all I can think of to say. I don't remember seeing him, not that he really sticks out. Average height, kind of skinny, short boring black hair, braces, probably listed under the 'typical' superlative in the yearbook.

"You're Colton, right?" he asks.

"Yeah, that's right." I take slow steps towards a table, wondering if he'll follow. He does, walking beside me.

"I thought you were pretty good," he tells me, "I hope you make it."

"I hope I make it too, but it's not gonna happen," I laugh.

"You don't think so?" he sounds disappointed.

"You were there. You saw what I did. I wouldn't exactly call it an all-star performance."

"This isn't the all-star team," he points out.

I sigh in exasperation as I sit down at an empty table. He sits across from me. "Does it matter?" I ask him. "They're too good for me, no matter who they are."

He doesn't say anything. He just stares until I feel uncomfortable.

"How about you? How'd you do?" I finally ask.

"Not very well. I didn't expect to make it when I went, I just like basketball."

"Oh," I nod. I don't know where to go from here. He's not giving me a whole lot to work with. Where was he going with this anyway.

"I thought basketball would help me make friends, well, that's what my grandma told me. I'm new here, and I guess she was worried...anyway, I think I'm going to try and work on the newspaper instead."

"Oh yeah? What kind of stuff do you write about?"

"I did the sports column before I moved here."

"Oh," I nod slowly. It adds up. He did say he liked basketball. Another awkward silence follows which I break. "So you're new here, huh?"

He nods, "yeah, I moved here last summer."