Sweat is twickling down my face, god thid guy is good.We're even the score is 20-20. I've got the ball again, a girl screams, I shoot. Of course I miss the basket so I turn in a anger haze. "What the hell? Seen a spider? Or was it a scary mouse?" I bark, man I guess this means I'm competitive. People turn and scowl at me, sending insults my way. I roll my eyes, wanting to get back to the game.
I look at Mistle. Oh. The guy I was marking dribbles past me and scores, unaware that I've stopped playing. The coach blows his whistle. "No basket." "What?! No basket?" He's seriously pissed off. "Brett, there has been an accident so no basket." So his name's Brett. He comes and stands next to me.
"What happened?" His looking at me totally curious. "A kid's died." I say calmly. I've never known anyone to die before. He looksat me oddly, probably because ofmy lack of emotion. He shrugs and throws me the ball.
I don't need mind reading toknow that he wants to play on. I throw it back to him, and he does the same. He looks confused for a bit, then suddenly gets that there's no point tiering each other out when no one's gonna bother watching. I frown, you'd think death might make some memories appear.