Dark Beauty

C H A P T E R 8 : Layla

Friday
December 16, 2009
8:40 p.m.

"Let's go Panthers! let's go!" The Central high school cheer team chanted as they stood alongside us; the Central high school dance and step team. The crowd is enticing, so it is the best adrenaline rush that the girls and I can ask for as we stood on the sidelines. Me and my girls, who were a crew of forty (only because the cheer team joined us for a week) pranced onto the gymnasium floor after both coaches called for a full timeout. We sauntered onto the floor and dispersed into our positions. As we waited for the Beyoncé mix to start, I started the dance-off by showing the crew which one we would be performing first. After a small demo, the music started on my count, and the other girls followed in suit and began to move in sync with me. As our hips danced to the Diva/Ring the Alarm beat, the hoots and hollers the crowd gave us made me feel the power. With every shake of my hips and twist of my body, I added a lil' bit more sass and attitude to it; I had to, I was the leader, so I needed to stand out. Plus, it was my job to give the crowd what they wanted; a show, and that's what I intended to give them. When the music stopped, we took a bow and rushed off the floor.

    The boys rushed back onto the floor and got into their positions. The game was tied; both teams had sixty-eight even, and neither side was willing to give up. The whistle sounded, and our team was in control of the ball. "Come on!" I yelled. "Pass the ball to J.V.!" I yelled again and again. Following suit, some of the girls on the team began to chant it, causing the high school coach Mr. Kendall to look our way. I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly as he shook his head disapprovingly. He cut his eyes at me, but then turned forward and yelled for one of the boys on the team to pass J.V. the ball. The boy threw the ball, causing it to soar through the air and head for J.V.'s way. When the ball reached his hands, he took off and headed down the court for our basket.

   Jamal Vazquez, a.k.b as J.V., was the star point guard of our high school basketball team. He was tall, brown-skinned, cute and muscular built. He was top of his sophomore class and was a beast on the court. If it weren't for him, our team wouldn't even have a shot at finals. When he was out on the court, he was the team; he made the team and was the only sophomore that I knew who didn't mind picking up the team's dead weight.

    My eyes stayed glued to Jamal. I watched as he dribbled the ball and maneuvered around people as quickly as if they weren't there. The boy had skills, and tonight he was showin' out. Once he was at a reasonable distance from our basket, he jumped up and released the ball from his grips. Seconds after he released the ball, a player from the other team smashed into him. Jamal and the other guy fell to the floor.

"What the fuck!" I yelled.

   Jamal quickly stood up, brushed himself off, and then headed for the guy that bumped into him. The crowd began to get excited as they watched the scene on the floor unfold. By this time, both coaches were on the floor, which caused both teams to go onto the floor. I rolled my eyes as I watched the argument between the coaches and the ref. "Typical Central game." I mouthed as I watched the ref yell one last thing to the coaches, and then she began to head over to the announcement table. Seconds later, the loudspeaker sounded, "And the ref said it was incidental contact." the announcer informed over the P.A. system.

   Once, the announcer said that everyone on our side in the stands became pissed. The crowd began to yell, boo, and curse at them. Our coach snatched his red hat off and threw it down on the floor in anger. The hit that Jamal had received due to the other player didn't faze the ref any because she had still given us a foul while the other team received nothing. It was clear who the ref was routing for in this game.