Swish

one

one

It's four o'clock. On Tuesday. I'm standing in the hallway outside the gym, waiting with my friend Alisa. I had a club meeting right after school, and Alisa had detention for telling a teacher that his grading system was "bullshit," just because she got a D+ on one of her papers. It isn't like I was waiting around doing nothing for the past hour. Alisa conveniently happens to be here, too, which is a plus—just like the D on her paper.

           "So, Ezra," she says, trying his name out for herself. "Senior, right?"

           "Yeah, I guess," I reply nervously, not even sure that he'll show up.

           "He used to be friends with Jay, didn't he?"

           "I think so," I nod, and then I nod again more definitely.

           "Kind of a loner, right?"

           "Yep."

           "Is he at least cute?"

           I exhale, about to answer when the sound of footsteps causes me to glance up and over. There—walking with a casual gate and a ball tucked beneath his arm—is Ezra. His eyes are watching the movement of his feet, and he doesn't seem to notice me. I observe Alisa eye him like a hungry vulture that hasn't eaten in days, and realize that maybe it wasn't the best idea to wait with her. Ezra runs a hand through his disheveled hair, and then looks up, catching my stare. I gulp, and then look away.

           "I guess you answered your own question, Lisa," I say, sucking in a breath at her intense scrutinizing of the boy.

           "I think that I like boys more than food," she mumbles, licking her lips in satisfaction as she makes no point to hide the fact that she's totally checking him out. But Ezra doesn't seem to notice, and continues to look at me. Again, I gulp, feeling uneasy.

           "Hi, I'm Alisa, and I just got out of detention because getting a D with a sideways X next to it on a good-ass paper wasn't punishment enough," greets my friend, acting as flirtatiously forward as always.

           "Hi," says the boy slowly, "I'm Ezra."

           "Yes you are," remarks Alisa, biting down on the edge of her lip. "Damn, Sal, you sure are one lucky bitch!"

           "You do know that we're playing basketball and not shooting a porno, right?" I sigh, smiling a bit as Ezra smirks in response to my comment.

           "Baby steps," she dismisses with a wave of her hand. "So, Ezra...I'm trying to think of something to ask you, but I think that I already know everything I need to about you." One of his eyebrows quirks up at the bold proclamation, but he doesn't object, giving Alisa free range to keep talking. And she does: "Now, if you 'accidentally' break Sal's finger or arm or leg or whatever, that's fine—"

           "Alisa!" I hiss at her condoning of violence towards me.

           "But if you break her heart," Alisa continues, not even batting an eye at my little outburst, "then I will not hesitate to break that gorgeous little face of yours. Oh, and I'll castrate you. Got it?"

           "We. Are. Just. Playing. Basketball!" I explode, throwing my hands in the air in an attempt to emphasize my point. But my dear friend just ignores me once again, and awaits a response from an aloof Ezra. He nods his head slowly in her direction, and she nods back, and it's as if there's a silent transaction occurring between the two in a language that I don't understand.