Sprinting from the cafeteria, Kwayo bolted to the teleporter. He tapped in the destination for the sixth grade dorm, shirt dripping, hands sticky. Then he jumped through, and dashed inside to the showers.
That food fight had not gone well. He blamed Isaac; once he joined, food had flown across sixth grade's table, splattering the seventh graders and enraging them into joining. Muttering under his breath, Kwayo swore to get that one kid back who'd dumped sour cream down his shirt.
In the shower stall, Kwayo ducked under hot, soothing water, chocolate ice cream running from his hair. Other footsteps entered the boys' bathroom, shower stalls squealing and water running.
When he'd barely finished washing, someone banged on Kwayo's stall.
"I'm waiting for my clothes!" he shouted, which was true. His clothes were in the stall's miniature clothes-washer. But they had also dried already, and he could just take them out.
"No you're not!" came Manuel's voice.
"What?" he exclaimed, but grudgingly turned off the water. He grabbed his towel from the waterproof bin and dried off, then shook out his clothes and dressed quickly.
He stepped from the stall. "How'd you know?" he asked Manuel.
He wiggled his eyebrows. "I just guessed."
Kwayo's cheeks turned red, but he turned away before Manuel could notice. "Lousy liar," he grumbled.
He went back out to the teleporter, walking backwards through the shimmering barrier just because. Then he strolled to the gym building, yawning. Could he have hit Chanel with the banana pie, instead of tossing it at the ground, hoping to make her slip?
Nah, it wouldn't have been worth it. If he'd missed, Zillie was standing behind her at the time, wielding a tray full of cupcakes.
Halfway down the hall, the bell rang. Kwayo jumped into a sprint. He didn't want to run laps. Especially because today they were starting lacrosse.
He burst through the doorway, and Coach Blanco glanced up from his seat in the corner. "Hello, Kwayo," his voice echoed through the basically empty gymnasium. "Nice of you to join us."
Kwayo's eyes swept the room. Teremki, Chanel, and Ryn were the only others present, standing near the wall by the door. Puzzled, he approached Teremki. "Where is everyone?" he whispered.
Teremki shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. You all had to help clean up, right?"
Kwayo nodded. "Yup. We finished, then I went back and showered, then I came here. I thought more people would've beaten me though..."
"Well, obviously not," he pointed. "Chanel only got here right before you by opening a portal straight into the room."
Kwayo sighed. "And Ryn's only here because she didn't get dirty at all."
"Ryn what?" Ryn poked her head around Teremki's shoulder, making Kwayo jump.
"Uh, hi, Ryn," he waved.
"I was saying you were here already because you didn't get dirty," Teremki said.
"Oh," Ryn glanced between them. "I thought you'd be praising the way I pelted Razón with the chocolate pudding."
Teremki just sighed, but Kwayo exclaimed, "that was so not fair! You're not allowed to scoop up the entire tray with a forcefield and hurl it at someone!"
Ryn grinned, folding her arms. "Says who? Isaac was blowing mountains of whipped cream at everyone, and no one said that was illegal."
"Wait," Teremki's eyebrows knit together. "They had mountains of whipped cream?"
Kwayo and Ryn both stared him. Kwayo blinked. "Uh, yeah, the whole table was buried--"
"Ohh, you weren't there," Ryn said. "That's how you beat everyone here," she folded her arms. "No offense. I just meant that I was surprised no one else was here and you...were."
"Gee, thanks," Teremki muttered.
As if on cue, the doors opened and a few students trickled in. Mostly somber and with still-wet hair, they looked around, first nervously, then with surprise that the gym was so empty. Coach Blanco silently stood from his desk, walking to a supply closet. Keys jingled, and the door squeaked open. He disappeared inside, then re-emerged with a few lacrosse sticks and some rubber balls.
"Come get a stick everyone! We'll start off with one game for now, until more students show up," he went back into the supply room and brought out some square, portable nets. He placed them at either end of the gym, leaving room for another game to be set up beyond it.
"Teams of five," he said, somewhat unnecessarily, since everyone by the doors was already organizing themselves into two teams.
Kwayo nodded to Ryn and Teremki, then Manuel and Bella joined them. They claimed a side, and Bella immediately took goalie.
"You know, I've never played lacrosse before," she said. "I wonder how good I am at it."
Kwayo nodded in agreement, lightly twirling the lacrosse stick in his fingers. Coach Blanco had explained the rules last time, but they hadn't practiced at all.
The game began with Manuel scooping up the ball and sprinting past a startled Zillie. Chamrik cut Manuel off, whacking the stick down with his own, and the red ball dropped to the floor. Kwayo bounced eagerly on his toes, but he'd self-assigned himself to defense. Chamrik tried picking up the ball, but it just rolled away in Ryn's direction. She, too, tried to scoop it up and failed. Coach Blanco snorted, but when Kwayo looked over, their teacher's face was impassively neutral.
Ryn and Chamrik stood locked above the ball, still trying to scoop it into their sticks, until Manuel intervened and snagged it. He passed it to Teremki who swung his stick around to catch it, only for the ball to bounce off the top. Ella dashed past him, grinning, and hockey-style whacked it down the court.
"Hey!" Manuel shouted.
Kwayo ran towards the ball, putting his stick out, hopefully so the ball would roll in and he could pick it up. Instead, it bounced over the stick's head and kept rolling to Bella. Copying Ella's style, Bella hit it away before it could roll into the goal.
Kwayo ran after it again and tried to scoop it up but just sent it rolling further down the court. So he sprinted after the ball and half-hit, half underhand-catapulted it. It soared--beautifully--through the air, until Chanel leapt up and baseball-batted it. The ball zoomed past Kwayo's head and he spun, blinking. Where had it gone?
"Oh," Chanel raised her lacrosse stick between both fists. "I scored!"
"Yeah, Chanel!" Rielle called from the opposite goal.
Kwayo turned slowly to his team's goal, staring at the red dot hiding in the back of the net. "What?" Bella shouted. "How did that--did you cheat?" she accused.
Chanel vigorously shook her head. "No! Where's the fun in that?"
"Alright, settle down," Coach Blanco commanded. "Who's ready to do some drills?"
Kwayo looked between him and his classmates. No one objected, so Coach Blanco lifted a bag of lacrosse balls. "We're first going to work on picking it up. Everyone come grab a ball."
***
Kwayo scooped up the lacrosse ball successfully, then threw it in the net a few feet away. It hit the wall through the net, then bounced out, rolling glumly back towards Kwayo by the opposite wall.
Kwayo sighed. Did they just assume that doing homework for your athletic classes didn't take up much space? What if he wanted to practice aiming from a distance? He could barely get ten feet away in here.
He scooped up the ball again, glancing at the enormous digital clock on the wall. It ticked down to twenty-three minutes. Kwayo catapulted the ball back into the net. The ball rolled back to him again.
He'd only been here seven minutes. Seven minutes of scooping up a ball--which he'd mastered in class--and throwing it into a net.
He brainstormed ways to make it more exciting. Maybe, he could throw it while standing backwards. Or underhand. Or maybe bouncing it off the wall and trying to catch it?
He spun around to face away from the net--which accidentally tossed the ball out. He scooped it back up with his stick, then faced away from the net and launched it in reverse over his shoulder. He waited. The sound of the ball bounced off the ceiling, then it landed on the hardwood floor right behind him.
"Hmmph," he muttered, and tried again. This time it flew more horizontal, but still thunked high against the wall.
A knock sounded on the practice gym's entrance. "What?" Kwayo shouted, throwing the ball backwards again.
The door opened and Zillie poked his head in. "Hey, Kwayo."
"Hi," Kwayo scooped up the ball from the ground.
"You wanna practice together?"
He shrugged, tossing the ball at Zillie. Who fumbled with his stick and dropped the ball. "Ready?" Kwayo smirked.
Zillie scooped the ball up, tossing it back. Lightning quick, Kwayo whirled the lacrosse stick around and caught it neatly.
"Hey!" Zillie exclaimed.
Kwayo passed the ball again, and Zillie ran nearly into the goal to catch it. Then he threw it way high so Kwayo had to jog to the corner, stick raised overhead. The ball plopped into the pocket. "Oh yeah?" he muttered, then threw it hard, straight for his opponent.
Zillie deflected the shot from hitting his stomach, knocking it to the floor. He quickly scooped it again, launching it.
Kwayo dove, landing with an oomph, but the ball landed safely in his stick. "Ha!" he shouted, hopping to his feet. "Take that!"
"Wha--that's not fair!" Zillie exclaimed. "Come on, give me another one!"
Kwayo rolled his eyes, but gently lobbed the ball in Zillie's direction. It landed where it was supposed to, in the pocket, but bounced out.
It rolled mockingly across the floor, leaving a small trail of ice, and Zillie sighed dejectedly. "This is stupid. Why'd we have to practice lacrosse anyway? It's not like we're ever going to play it again."
Kwayo scooped up the ball , effortlessly tossing it into the goal. "So? The matches were fun. Maybe the next time we play I'll even be able to beat Manuel."
Zillie grimaced. "I doubt it. How long has he been playing? Years?"
"But then he came here," Kwayo said, "and didn't practice for years. I bet by next week I could score on him in goalie."
"Yeah, sure..."
"I am sure. Just you watch," he still had to do an hour of practicing for gym class. By then, Manuel wouldn't stand a chance. "Do you mind playing goalie?" he asked. "I want to practice."
"Okay," Zillie jabbed his stick at Kwayo. "But after that I get to shoot on you."
"Fine," he agreed, then lobbed an easy shot into the corner.