Losing Grip

Chapter 10➷ If Cruella Terrorized High School Hallways

It didn't—at least not for Matthew.

Throughout practice, he frequently looked up toward the stadium to wave and wink at me. I had wisely chosen to ignore the curious stares Brooklyn and Jayce gave me every time he glanced at me.

We had been on the stadium seats for what seemed like hours. Only five other spectators were on the bleachers and they seemed more preoccupied by their phones than the game. I understood the temptation. Who knew sport drills could be so tedious?

Although I sat by Brooklyn and Jayce, I couldn't help but feel like a wheel of a tricycle; it occasionally came in handy, but everyone knew bicycles were much more convenient.

It was my own fault; the girls did their best to make me feel included. But as their conversations went on, I felt little need for my input and zoned them out.

I had no idea why I was even here but I couldn't figure out a respectful way to walk out.

Avan was sitting in the row below us and looked even less excited to be here than I was. He was slumped over his bag, his eyes mindlessly following the players run back and forth on the court.

Earlier, I had brushed him on the shoulder to check on him before I could talk myself out of it.

"I'll be fine. What about you? How are you, Avery?" he had asked.

His eyes held the same intensity as Mr. Andrews when he had asked the same question earlier during my office aide period, as if they had the power to see beyond my pretense.

It sounded like a natural question to ask but despite Mr. Andrews's relaxed demeanor, I couldn't help but think of him as a therapist.

He had continued to watch me curiously as I helped him organize the files and papers on his desk and always seemed mere inches away from jotting down every sentence I uttered. He reminded me of the therapist my Dad had made me see regularly after Riley had died. The woman always seemed more enthusiastic about scribbling mysterious notes about me than about talking.

I didn't know how talking to a stranger about my sister would help me but Dad believed it would get me out of my head. I wondered if spending these critical first months together would have worked better.

Avan did not seem to believe me when I told him I was fine. And I knew there was no way I would convince him when I couldn't even convince myself.

"Looks fairly easy, right?" Brooklyn said, nudging me in the side and breaking me out of my world. "You just toss the ball into the hoop. I don't know what's taking them so long."

Jayce turned to her friend and shook her head in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

She then proceeded to explain to Brooklyn the importance of scrimmages and the significance of every single move to defend the sport.

Brooklyn nodded, even though her face showed nothing but confusion. I noticed that whenever she glanced at the court, she located Arson. She didn't seem to realize. A persistent smile tugged at her lips. She continued to nod mindlessly to Jayce as her eyes ran alongside Arson on the court.

He was both practicing his skills and coaching the newest players. The green polyester jersey effectively hid his sweat but remained glued to his body. If he was indeed exhausted, he did not show it to his teammates.

"How do you know so much about basketball?" I asked Jayce, when she finally stopped talking.

She had probably realized that Brooklyn did not care to understand the complexities of the sport.

When she registered my question, the excitement that had animated her face as she spoke about basketball vanished and morphed into dejection.

"That's a touchy subject," Brooklyn answered on her behalf.