The Immigrant Who Played Basketball

Chapter Seven-"You can't keep on running away from the past."

For the rest of the night, sleep doesn't come to me and it seems like a century when I hear my mum getting up from bed. Not knowing if she's still not talking to me, I leave bed and shuffle into the kitchen, where Mamma is flipping traditional, mouth-watering, American pancakes.

"Smells good," I comment awkwardly.

I've never had an argument with Mom that leads to her ignoring me. She keeps on flipping the pancakes as if I didn't pay her food a compliment.

"Looks good too," I add tensely.

Yet again, she ignores me.

"I bet it tastes just as good," I compliment, embarrassed.

My mum doesn't even look at me.

"Can you at least look me?"

She turns to me with a happy-now-look on her face.

"Talk to me."

Infuriatingly, she doesn't open her mouth. I leave the kitchen, saying:

"I don't want to spend a minute longer with a person who doesn't want to talk to me."

Even saying that, Mamma stays as quiet as a mouse. I slam the door of my bedroom – something that she hates and always tells me off for doing it – but she doesn't say a single word. Deciding to forget that Mom is giving me the silent treatment, I dress up.

Today, I pick a white and rose gold Nike sweatshirt with a matching pair of rose gold leggings and plain black Huaraches. My hair is partly braided and partly down, with my baby hairs looking on fleek.

My stomach rumbles, which reminds me that I haven't eaten yet so I go downstairs, expecting my mum to have left the remaining pancakes. However, I find no pancakes.

"Where's my pancakes?" I ask, hurt.

"You want something, you get it yourself. I'm fed up of having you eat out of my hands."

I stopped, stock still, stunned.

"I'm fed up of you acting so childish," I angrily shout before leaving the house.

I enter Maria's car and we're off to school. While we talk, none of us, thankfully, mention about the one on one basketball match between Logan and me. Maria's mum drops us off and I tell Maria I'm going to the canteen to get something to eat. We agree to meet with Chloe at our usual spot, by the end of the hallway.

At the cafeteria, I get a cold croissant with a teaspoon of bitter strawberry jam and unfortunately the butter is finished. As I eat, I am wistfully wishing for Mamma's hot croissants, fresh from the oven with homemade strawberry jam and melted butter oozing from it. Maybe I overreacted this morning, or maybe I didn't. Mom was the one who was deliberately ignoring me and greedily finished all the traditional American pancakes that she knew I adored to maybe purposefully wind me up. Let me forget my mum for now.

I have other problems like a certain boy called Logan entering thecafeteria with his pals. I quickly pray that he doesn't catch sight of me butunfortunately he does.

Leaving his friends, he walks over to me but I don't dare to look up as I say:

"You got my answer yesterday. Now, leave me alone."

"Sorry, I forgot what your answer was. Care to tell me again."

"N, O. NO!" I exclaim, over-pronouncing my words before picking up my bag to leave.

"Coach Taylor is a harsh coach, Luna. For him to say you're talented, you should be proud."

"Thanks, I am. Happy?"

"Not until you join the basketball team."

"Well, you'll just have to deal with it," I say rudely before leaving the cafeteria.

I walk over near the hall, where Maria and Chloe are waiting for me.

"Tell your brother to back off," I demand Maria.

"Back off what?"

"You know what. The basketball club situation."

"You're joining the basketball club?" Chloe asks, meaning no harm but it makes me more angry.

"NO!"

"Look, Luna, what exactly did he say to you?" Maria questions.

"He wants me to answer yes to Coach Taylor's offer of me joining the team after me and Logan's one on one match."

"Oh. But I can see where he's coming from. Why not?" Maria asks tactlessly.

"You know why not."

"Why?" Chloe questions, unaware of the situation.

"Chloe, can you give us some space, please," I request politely.

Chloe looks hurt and reluctant but leaves after Maria gives her a face saying: Please.

"Maria, you know that I can't play basketball."

"But you told me that yesterday you played a basketball match."

I sigh with frustration.

"Yes I did and it was too much for me," I partly lie.

"But, Luna, you have to see. You can't keep on running away from the past."

There's a silence as that last sentence Maria just said processes in my mind: You can't keep on running away from the past. Who does she thinks she is? She has no idea the pain and struggle basketball brings me.

"No, you're the one who doesn't see. You don't understand. Nobody understands me. Only Ella understood me. I though you did too because you were my friend but I was wrong." As I say this, my voice wobbles and I'm fighting back the tears because I'm in public.

"Were?"

Maria looks like she's about to cry too.

"Yeah. Were. Only people who understand me are my friends and you don't so our friendship is over."

Tears start spilling down Maria's cheeks.

"I do, Luna. I do," she says pleadingly.

"No, you don't. If you did, you would have never forced me to play basketball," I say before I realise people, including Logan and his friends, are watching us. He looks confused with a hint of disappointment as his twin's eyes pour out tears harder. But I quickly look away from his face and start walking down the hall.

I'm relieved that the bell rings for our first lesson.

I want this to be one of those nightmares.

I want to be anywhere else from here right now.

I desperately want the ground to swallow me up.

I want my life back.