In a small town, just a few miles off the main city of Edmonton, a group of teenage boys were throwing hoops at the central court. The place was battered and run down. The clay ground was corroded, and the paint that set the lines was fading off. Despite all that, there was a smile on everyone's face as they passed a worn-out basketball amongst themselves in sweat-drenched tee-shirts and pants.
"What are you looking at? Pay attention, man," One of the boys, Karl, said to Quinn before tossing the ball at his friend. It hit Quinn in the back, making the boy turn around in shock as the ball bounced off his back and on the floor for a while before sitting still. The other boys laughed. Quinn seemed to have snapped out of his daze. He bit down on his bottom lip, pushing his dark hair away from his face before picking up the ball and throwing it back to Karl.
"Shut up, I was thinking," Quinn said as Karl caught the ball with a grin on his face. The boys weren't tall or anything. Most of them stood between 5'7 to 5'10, but there wasn't much to do in such a small neighborhood aside from playing sports, smoking blunts, and drinking alcohol.
"Of course, you were," Karl said, sarcasm lacing every word. He passed the ball to Hozier, the tallest lad in the group who then made to throw a basket. The game picked up again, and soon the little quibble between Karl and Quinn was forgotten and drowned out with the background noise of yelling boys, the bouncing ball, and stampeding feet.
From time to time Quinn would look towards the gates again, catching the figure of the boy that was sitting at the stairs. He had been there for hours, and Quinn wondered why he didn't just come up and join them.
Why does he come here? Quinn wondered before someone yelling at him to move out of their way pulled him out of his thoughts. He ran into the game again, shaking in head and deciding that it was not his business if the boy wanted to be a loner.
The game calmed down when the boys called quits and ended another round. Hozier, bounced the ball, staring at the ground as he asked a question, "Do any of you want to go to the pub? I heard there's a band playing there at eight."
Ever since Hozier became old enough to drink—eighteen—he'd been asking if anyone would like to follow him. Maybe there was something about getting a bottle while being old enough to have a drink that made him feel proud of himself. Half of the boys in grade twelve had turned eighteen, but a few people were still seventeen or even younger. It didn't matter though, as long as there were adults with them anyone above the age of sixteen was allowed to drink. The barkeeper didn't care much. There weren't that many adults in town to keep him in business anyway.
"I'll come," one of the boys said after a moment of brief silence. A few 'me too's rang in the group as a follow up to his response.
"Great!" Hozier said with a grin. He was wearing black converse and ripped jeans. He gave the others some details before turning his attention to Karl who was resting against the crisscross court gate. "How about you?"
"Nah, I can't come. I'm heading home with Quinn right after this," he said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. before looking down at Quinn who was crouched down under him and using him as a shade. It was six in the evening now, but it got dark fast, and the boys would have to end their game soon. They had come here right after school was out at two in the afternoon. Early—like it was every Friday.
"Yeah, that's true. Our mums want us home early. We promised," Quinn confirmed and Hozier nodded, combing back his blond hair with the fingers of his free hand. He was holding the basketball under his hand and would be taking it home with him for safekeeping.
"Maybe next time," Hozier said, and the two boys smiled.
"Of course," Quinn said as Hozier turned away and walked in the direction of the exit with the others. Quinn's gaze shifted to the stairs, wondering if the boy at the gate was still there, but just like always he had disappeared before the group had called it a day.
He sighed, looking up. "Ready to leave?" Quinn asked Karl whose eyes were now darting around the court. He might have lost a sock or something. Their basketball games got so heated that clothes started coming off—mostly shoes and shirts. Yes, but sometimes they did end up playing in just underwear after drenching their shorts and pants in too much sweat.
Karl didn't answer Quinn right away, he made a beeline for the piece of fabric at the end of the court. He picked it up before looking back at Quinn. "I am now!" He said, waving the blue sock in his hand. Quinn laughed, getting up before walking up to Karl.
The two left the court together and started to make their way home, humming pop songs as the soles of their worn-out converse shoes crushed the grains of sand under their feet. It was approaching summer, and it was getting hotter and drier with every passing day.
"What was on your mind this afternoon? You were absent-minded. In fact, you've been this way for a few weeks mate," Karl said out of the blue, making Quinn turn to face him before looking up ahead and shrugging. The orange light the roads had been drowned in had now given way to a dull blue-yellow as time went beyond seven in the evening.
"It's nothing really. Why have you been looking at me, though?" Quinn asked, raising a suggestive brow at Karl. His friend rolled his eyes before giving his shoulder a small shove.
"It's hard not to when you keep getting hit by the basketball," Karl said.
"You just didn't!" Quinn said, and his eyes went wide. He shoved Karl back, and Karl did it again. The two laughed, chasing each other in the evening, and stopping their dumb chase when they got to the street they lived on.
The buildings on this side of town were tightly packed and old. The street lights didn't work, so it was a good idea to always head home early. Quinn and Karl didn't live two far from each other. In fact, they lived in the same complex and their apartments were just a few doors apart.
The two head into the rundown building they lived in and took the stairs to the sixth floor since the elevators had been jammed since last week.
"See you later," Karl said, tapping Quinn's shoulder before heading towards the door to his family's apartment.
"You too," Quinn said, watching Karl disappear. He didn't turn towards his own apartment until the lock to Karl's door creaked shut.
Quinn opened the door, before heading in and closing the door behind him. There was no mudroom. The door led straight into the kitchenette that shared a space with the small living room. Quinn walked about, checking the corridor that led to the rooms to see if anyone was around, but the lights weren't on and there was no one in sight.
"Huh, they're not back. Isn't it seven yet?" Quinn wondered out loud. He decided not to think too much about it, his parents and sister were probably working late. He instead headed to his own room that was at the end of the hallway. He opened the door, walking in before flipping the light switch and letting the yellow fluorescence light flood the room in its glow. It was a small place. The two ends of the twin bed he had touched both ends of the wall. There wasn't much space for anything else, but Quinn had managed to fit in a small drawer for his clothes.
Quinn took off his shirt, before getting out of his jogging pants. He hopped into a loose pair of shorts before climbing into bed. As he stared out into his room images of the dark-haired boy sitting at the stairs of the gates flooded his mind.
Who is he? He asked himself, frowning a bit as he tried to jog his memory for any clues. The boy often wore loose pants and cheap cotton slogan t-shirts. It's been over a month since he had started to sit at the gates to the basketball court. Quinn and his friends played at the court very evening they could, and the boy was always present at the stairs—at least for the past few weeks. He never walked up to them to ask to join. He just sat at the stairs by himself, and rarely ever turned to look at anybody. Since Quinn started to pay attention to him, he noticed the boy would appear in the middle of a game, and then disappear just before he and his friends started to leave the court.
Quinn couldn't put a finger on who he was, but he had to be a student at their school. It was a small town, and there wasn't another high school for miles to come.
Maybe he's new? Quinn wondered. Everyone in town often knew everyone else. It was a small community of about eight hundred people at most. They shared the same school and church, and everyone shopped at the same grocery, thrift, and convenience stores.
Maybe I should ask around? Quinn wondered, turning until his brown eyes were fixated on the ceiling about. He was in his last year of high school, and it was possible the boy was someone in a different class or even a different grade.
Maybe he's a junior? Maybe even a sophomore? He continued to guess, letting out a sigh.
Quinn listened to the sound of his wall clock tick as he kept thinking. From time to time, his eyes will flicker to the posters he had up in his room. He sat up at a point, rubbing the space between his brows to try and relax the frown he had been wearing since he stepped into his room. Not knowing who that boy was bothered him. He wondered if he should approach him next time, maybe ask him to play a game with them?
"Fuck," Quinn let out, flipping back into his bed before shutting his eyes close to get the image of the strange boy out of his head.