ring pops and cigs

12

adrenaline pumped throughout my body, my hand instinctively swiping at the ball. successfully stealing it, my tarnished nike's slap against the concrete, before i finish with a layup. i grin, running a hand through my hair. farhan-a pakistani boy who's only job was to be a narcissist and adore fatima- whined in protest.

"it's not my forkin' fault that you foul!" he grumbled, making me sock him in the arm. he only whined louder making me wind my hand back for a powerful punch-

until the ball got snatched away from me. i hated when that happened. i turn to yell at the person, to spot a chocolate boy grinning like a maniac and instigating a match with the wag of his curled hand.

matthias.

after our encounter, i had made up some random excuse for my entering, and he had dismissed his singing entirely. after he recognized me-it took him a moment-we laughed at the irony of the situation. we talked for a little bit, before an awkward silence had creeped in. quickly dismissing myself from the situation-i didn't wanna relive eighth grade- we bid our adieus and now, it was after school.

i crack my neck, before squaring up with him, one arm outstretched toward the ball, the other open towards the hoop.

he suddenly straightened up, making me quirk an eyebrow.

"i cant verse you-not after you cried because i juked you out." an elfish smirk appeared on his lips. i thought about how long it's been since i last saw it.

"okay, huge fuck you for mentioning that. and how many times do i have to tell you that i fell on my hurt wrist. and the only reason i fell was because those boots were-like- several sizes too big for me! with six foot shoelaces!" heat rose to the apples of my cheeks, decorating my face with a peachy pink that didn't compliment the glare.

"i remember that. why the hell were your shoelaces so long anyways? lookin' like a-" i remembered how he only started cursing at the end of eighth grade, and how when he did, he always quietly censoring on the actual cuss word. it had gotten better-now the hushing of the word barely noticeable, but it was there. and i felt proud that i noticed it.

"matthias?" his high pitched voice rose a few octaves due to his disbelief. "didn't you move away to like, chicago or sumn?" farhan interjected.

"cincinnati, dumbass." i slapped him upside the head.

matthias laughed, "i just moved back a week ago."

i grinned. he abandoned the whole 'need to be cool' thing and left it with the memory of eighth grade. just because i have too many people in my life dying to feel cool and giving me mixed signals just like he did back then.

pondering back to eighth grade, i guess not much had changed. i mean, i still had the friends that i had in eighth grade, still had the same aura-maybe more intimidating-the same stress level. it seemed like everyone else was changing while i stayed the same. the only constant thing i had in my life was my friends-and sometimes i couldn't even count on that.