Million Dollar Smile

Chapter 1: Meeting Rosaline

I may or may not have writer’s block at the moment, but I know I have to start somewhere.

All I am is one lousy basketball player. I don’t even think I’m that good of a player, even though I am so passionate about it. That’s what I don’t understand. Being passionate will make you even better – but I lack that. Basketball is my own escape. And I share it with my three best mates: Mark Rosenberg, Landon Whitfield and Rosaline Cecily.

Yes, I do consider a girl to be ‘one of the boys’. In fact, Rosaline is probably more passionate about basketball than Mark and Landon. Maybe even more than me, and I think that’s saying something.

She is a real tomboy – a delinquent in the making. We often go on mini ‘adventures’ together. And she’s beautiful. Her mahogany hair is always dead straight, separating in parts as they sit on either sides of her shoulders like when someone rides a horse.

She always wears a black beanie, ripped jeans, a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of high-top converses. She’s also seen carrying her skateboard wherever she goes. Come to think of it, she’s probably more of a boy than me. That’s weird.

But, before I go any further, I must advise you how her name is pronounced: It’s not Roz-a-line, or Ros-a-lyn, but Rose-ah-leene. And don’t even think about questioning her why it’s spelt the way it is. You won’t get the answer you expect. I assure you.

Mark, Landon and I all play on the same team, and often after our games I’ll meet Rosaline on the basketball courts at the park a block away from the centre. She’ll bring her basketball, tie her flannel shirt around her waist and roll up the sleeves of her shirt underneath.

She’ll sit on her basketball as she waits for me, as I am always late. We do this ritual every Friday night, after my game. Before I go on, let me tell you this: Rosaline’s good. But I always win. Always.

“About time you showed up”, Rosaline said, “You’re beating your latest time every Friday by ten minutes”.

“Come on, Cecily. You’re just waiting to get your arse kicked, right?” I mocked, watching as she stood up from sitting on the basketball. I turned to her for confirmation, but she gave me no indication that I was right. She picked the ball up and threw it at me, watching as it fell from the rigid impact on my defenseless chest.

“Not tonight,” she cooed, “I’ll show you what I’ve been practicing”.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I was just practicing too. In fact, we won the game”. She laughed in my face and gave me a cheeky grin, stealing the ball away from the cement. She started to bounce it, and circle me with it, teasing me to go and grab it off her.

The ball bounced in between her feet, reaching up to her breasts and all the way back down. I ceased the moment and yanked it with my right hand, immediately aiming for a shoot from where I was standing. Rosaline stood beside me, standing straight, with a blank expression and her jaw dropped, as she witnessed the ball go straight through the hoop. No flaws whatsoever. Not one rebound or thump.

“And you think you’re not a good player,” she remarked. I laughed it off, although was flattered by the compliment.

“Come on, Cecily. Show me what you’ve got”.

We played for another hour, which was the usual time that we spent shooting hoops and hearing the slamming sound of the basketball hit the cement. Sometimes it’d even hit me in the head, and Rosaline would drop everything in the moment and check if I was okay, which I always was.

Usually, after we’d finish, I’d go left and walk home, and Rosaline would go right and skate home. But today, I offered to shout some ice-cream, as I had a few spare dollars in my pocket. Rosaline agreed, and she bounced the basketball on her feet as we walked towards the main street.

“I have to say, that was a better win than usual”, Rosaline whispered, sibilantly and softly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, why are you whispering? Because I won again?  That’s alright. I can help you, if you want,” I teased, looking everywhere but in Rosaline’s eyes. I gave up eventually, because they were so deep and admirable. They were steel grey, with a tint of lush green. The thin line of black eyeliner accentuated her eyes.

“Smartarse”, she muttered, tucking the basketball under her left arm. I swung my arm and dropped it around her shoulders, as we tagged and carried on. She nudged me in the ribs and I flinched.

She started to run off, so I ran after her until we reached the ice-cream stall. That’s when we stopped to smell the cream and chocolate toppings that had just been put out in the windows. It attracted us the same way it would if we were to see a lone basketball on the court, waiting still and silent.

“So, are you still drawing that picture of me?” I questioned as we waited in line. The sweat had started to ease off of me now, with the last of the beads trickling down my temple.

I ran my fingers through my spring honey-coloured blonde hair, flicking away the longer pieces that hung over my eyes. Rosaline looked over at me. She looked like she couldn’t be bothered to deal with me, although there was an unwonted gaiety in her manner.

“The more you ask about it the more I will put it off,” she joked, “You’ll have it soon. I’m just having some trouble on drawing your big nose”. I heard someone talk in the background, but I only looked at Rosaline, after she insulted me.

“I don’t have a big nose!” I insisted, feeling the bridge of it. I stopped, eyeing her with furrowed brows and a smirk. Nice combination.

“Hey, tough guy, is that two scoops of chocolate for you as well?” The register clerk compromised, eyeballing the cone in Rosaline’s hand. She licked the dropping chocolate running down her cone as she waited, hiding chuckles inside her throat.

I took the cone with chocolate and paid for them, as Rosaline bounced the basketball in one hand, juggling her cone in the other. I was surprised that we didn’t have to be kept under vigilance. We looked like two wrecks of teenagers that couldn’t be controlled in any way.

“Your nose is fine,” Rosaline said as we walked out, “But it’s a surprise for now”. She adjusted her beanie as she took a lick of her ice-cream. I threw the change in an empty compartment in my wallet, placing it back in my pocket. I felt major elation once I saw my ice-cream, and devoured into it straight away. 

“I’ll take surprises. On that thought, look who’s over there”.  I subtly pointed my finger in the opposite direction to a guy walking out of a gift store. Dressed in baggy grey tracksuit paints and a plain black hoodie, he glanced at us and abruptly turned away. He had scruffy chestnut golden brown hair and beady eyes. Without words, Rosaline rolled her eyes at me, biting into the core of her cone.

“Chris Sutton wants you and has wanted you fo-”

“Chris Sutton is just my lab partner”, she exclaimed, over enthusiastically, trying to suppress the conversation.

“You seriously want me to buy that?” I said with a full mouth, scoffing the tip of my dribbling cone. She nodded shyly and cocked her head.

“Well why wouldn’t you buy it?”

“Come on, Cecily. The guy got wobbly knees from just looking at you ten metres away”. She bounced the basketball again as we walked towards the corner of the street, where the chatter of shoppers and workers consolidated to create a more amusing atmosphere. I looked up at the sky. It was almost naked, only wearing the colour of pale blue with puffy grayscale clouds scattered about, making an abstract pattern.

“That’s him, though. Me? Let’s say I might have my eye on someone else”. That’s when she ran off on me, again. I did chase her. But let’s say it took me all the way until she reached her house that I actually caught up. I told you I regularly failed at chasing people.