The Beach Boys Were Right
I'd first found out about Crystal Prep High and their rivalry with CHS at the Homecoming pep rally. The rainbow-haired inspirer, who apparently was part of a chunk of the school's sports teams, had made it a point to drill into everyone's heads just how important it was that they snap some kind of losing streak against CPH that stretched more than a decade. To her credit she did a good job of getting everyone going, and at the (American) football game that weekend, the team was primed to win.
Not that it mattered. I found out later via the school newspaper, the CHS Express, that by the time the game was over, CPH had doubled Canterlot's score easily and left said motivator steaming in the stands.
Autumn wore on, and my life went on. Following the altercation between Dallas Austin and Sunset Shimmer--after which the former experienced detention for several days afterward--I experienced little in the way of trouble aside from the usual. That "usual" had something tacked on to it, though: Sunset had taken a page out of Dallas's book and started ribbing me and taunting me at every opportunity, likely just trying to amuse herself until she could come up with something better. I tried my best to ignore her, but that just made it more difficult.
I read Highlights for Children for years as a kid, and their general advice for dealing with that brand of idiot is to ignore them. They want a reaction out of you, and if they don't get it, they're likely to leave you alone on account of brick walls not being good conversationalists. For some reason, however, my lack of response to Sunset's actions just made her angrier and inclined to get on my case even more, trying to seek out new ways of making me mad. At least Dallas took actual breaks in-between bullying.
There weren't many ways I could deal with it, beyond occasionally speaking to someone on the staff about it. The best I could really do otherwise was to try to find alternate routes to my classes where possible, or try to slip away whenever I saw her approach. So really, I tended to be more of a cardboard wall instead.
It didn't help that each time I talked to the staff, later Sunset would walk past me, slowly turn to face me, and flash a smile that would do Jetstream Sam proud.
The weeks passed one after another, the Thanksgiving break transitioned into December, and Christmas decorations began reproducing at a rapid rate throughout the city. Seriously. If you leave some tinsel and a pack of Christmas lights together in the same room overnight, then you'll have a window-display Santa Claus, a tree, fake presents and snow when you return in the morning. I am not kidding.
Early in December towards the end of yet another day, Principal Celestia made a school-wide announcement:
~"Attention, please. Attention. This is an open invitation to all students. As most of you may know, the girls' varsity basketball team is set to open their season against Crystal Prep this Friday at 7:00pm. In an effort to increase support, we're giving everyone who attends the game the opportunity to receive extra credit and apply it to a class of their choice. What you will need to do after the final buzzer sounds is write a single-spaced report, preferably a full page in length, about your experience at the game and how it applies to your chosen class, then submit your report to your instructor next Monday. To reiterate..."~
Normally I wasn't one for school sports or essays, but grade-wise I wasn't doing too great... at least, not on the math front. In addition to the constant difficulty I was having getting to my first class on time, algebra wasn't sinking into my brain as well as it should have been. If my performance didn't improve, I was looking at a possible 'F' on my next report card. With that in mind, I talked to my parents later and got their permission to attend the game on Friday.
Connecting a basketball game to mathematics couldn't be that hard.
Sunset put her pencil down and gave her assignments one last look-over. Satisfied, she put them away and fell backwards across her bed, not having much else to do for the moment.
Like Puma she wasn't one for school sports, having much bigger things in mind. The prospect of getting more extra credit was an enticing one, though. The more she had, the longer her scholastic record would remain spotless. Her inner academic and perfectionist squealed with joy at the thought of it.
And it isn't like I have anything important to do. Everything's falling into place at CHS. For the most part, the students are associating with whom I want them to be with, and no one's trifling with me in stupid ways like Dallas Austin did. Never mind the end of the year--by the end of the semester, the situation should be just about perfect.
She frowned, her thoughts souring. Aside from Puma Claw, but that's to be expected. If I'm to have any success with him, I'll probably need to alienate his friends from lunch first. That's an idea for another time, though.
Now, then... how does one go about applying basketball to art class...?
On the day of the game, the weather took a turn for the worse. The temperature had dropped steadily over the course of the week, and finally late on Friday afternoon, the overhead clouds decided to drop snow on us in waves.
My parents asked me if I wanted to be driven to the game that night. Like a stubborn git, I told them 'no'. It wasn't the first time I'd walked to school in the snow and ice, and in the dark, no less. I believed I could handle it without issue.
Didn't change the fact that I had to bundle up like no one's business. A heavy winter coat that I didn't especially like, gloves, hat, scarf, boots...even a massive set of tinted goggles to protect my eyes. I looked in the mirror before I left, and I couldn't even recognize myself.
Normally it takes me about half an hour to walk a mile and a quarter, but that's if I wasn't experiencing delays. The snow and wind tacked on an extra fifteen minutes to that total (no thanks to me slipping and almost falling at least half a dozen times), so I was bitter cold by the time I got to the school, even with the extra layers. I didn't feel like getting out of them yet, so I kept them on even as the game drew closer to its starting time.
There was quite a crowd on hand. Fellow CHS students who wanted the extra credit, a decent number of locals--a few of whom I recognized--who were into high school basketball, even a fair number of students and fans associated with Crystal Prep. The bleachers were filling up fast, and it didn't look like I'd be able to see the game if I sat on the floor, so I selected a section at random and hurried to take an unclaimed spot in the top row.
Now that I was really seeing the gym from a good vantage point for the first time, it looked like they were even bringing in extra chairs from the cafeteria and placing them wherever there was space. Certainly aren't messing around, are they?
"Eeeesh... cold outside, isn't it? Can't say I blame you for staying prepared."
Abruptly, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of the weather. I glanced up in time to see Sunset Shimmer, who had taken her own precautions in dealing with the snowstorm, taking a seat next to me. A few more spectators followed suit on either side of us, closing us in.
Double crud and a half...
Whoever he is, I think it's safe to say he hates being cold, and I don't blame him. Canterlot at its worst was never this bad.
Sunset stuffed her hat and gloves into a coat pocket and looked at the heavily-dressed person sitting next to her, wondering why he wasn't saying anything before shrugging and turning her attention elsewhere. No skin off my teeth if he's not talkative. All the better for me. Means I can focus on this instead. She took out a notepad and jotted a few things down, looking up at the gym's scoreboard. Four minutes until game time...
Vvrrrm... vvrrrm...
I was incredibly thankful not only for the fact that Sunset didn't seem to recognize me, but for the fact that I'd followed Vice Principal Luna's "suggestion" and set my phone on 'vibrate'. I took it out and answered it. "Mm-hmm?" I mumbled past my scarf.
"Hello?" I heard my Mom asking. "Did you get there alright?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Good. That's alright. We'll see you after the game. Call us if you need a ride home, alright?"
"Mm-hmm. Hm-hm."
"Bye-bye."
I hung up, switched off the phone and put it away. Whoever decided that mumbling ought to be its own language is an absolute genius.
Sunset kept one eye on the stranger next to her, unsure what that last exchange was about. Well, that wasn't suspicious at all. What in the world was that?
It reminded her of why she didn't like this set of circumstances. Knowledge was power, but at the same time it was worthless if you weren't able to hear it. Taking the chatty natures of everyone in the crowd around her into account, it made singling out individual conversations next to impossible.
I'd better watch him, she thought as both teams moved into position for the start of the game. If he even thinks about trying anything funny, then I'd better be ready to nail him before he tries.
A whistle blew, and the game began with CHS taking possession on the jump ball.
Rainbow Dash drew first blood for the Wondercolts, scoring on the team's first possession. That would be the only basket they'd get for the next few minutes, and Crystal Prep gained an early lead that they'd be hard-pressed to surrender.
Sunset watched silently, her chin at rest on her hand. She made no sound whatsoever, giving no indication that she was for either side. Inside, her mind was burning as she inwardly composed her essay for submission. Every now and then she took a few notes, not wanting to forget some minor detail or another.
The entire time, she kept one eye on the stranger sitting next to her. Whoever he was--assuming it was a he--didn't cheer either, which made things look a bit more suspicious in her mind. She was half-tempted to pull the person's goggles up over his eyes to see who she was, but she stopped herself. I can think of a few scenarios where that would go horribly wrong, Sunset mused, grimacing. She shivered as a follow-up thought struck her, her hands tightening. If worst comes to worst, then I refuse to die far from home to a magic-less psychopath. I swear, this world's all sorts of wrong if those kinds of occurrences are getting more and more frequent.
And if this is the kind of person who'd happily torch his surroundings while whistling oldies music, that would just be adding insult to injury.
The game continued on while she was lost in thought, paying her ambitions and fears no mind.
I'm really starting to hate playing against these guys. No matter how hard we try, it never feels like it's good enough!
Rainbow Dash wasn't having a good first quarter. She'd managed to score first, but the Shadowbolts got the hang of her play style relatively quickly and forced her to take shots she wasn't comfortable with. At least the rest of the team is doing their best to keep it from becoming a blowout, she grumbled silently, taking solace in that fact.
Seeing an opportunity, she snaked her hand in and smacked the ball away from her opponent in mid-dribble. Snatching it, she charged down the court and deftly positioned herself at courtside just outside the 3-point line, jumping to shoot.
She almost didn't see the same Shadowbolt she'd stolen the ball from take a running leap in her direction, swatting the ball with all her strength into the stands. Rainbow looked back as she landed to see where it had went...
...and immediately slammed both hands over her mouth to stifle the laughter that threatened to escape.
Looking back at what happened, I think the reason I hadn't acted was because I was feeling the slightest bit vindictive towards Sunset for her general behavior up to that point. I could've reached out and intercepted the ball, tried to warn her, something. Instead I scooted as far off to the side as I could on the pretense of getting out of the way, watching as the basketball ricocheted upwards off her forehead with a fairly satisfying WOING noise and flinching at the referee's whistle. It was only after the ball bounced off the wall behind us that I bothered to grab it, chucking it one-handed back over to the court.
As a split second observation, that rainbow-haired girl was trying her absolute hardest not to laugh. I guessed that she wasn't on good terms with Sunset either and didn't give it another thought.
The Shadowbolt who made the rejection--I never got her name, I just remember she had lime green hair--caught the ball and handed it to the referee. "Um... sorry about that?" she called up to us over the crowd's grumbling, making it sound more like a question than a genuine apology.
I gave a thumbs-up, hoping the gesture got the message across. She grinned and returned it, evidently understanding what I meant, then turned away to focus on the game.
On the other hand, Sunset was anything but okay. She had a hand on her forehead, and despite the gym's lighting, most of her face was in shadow. She was muttering a collection of curses and profanities against sports and the world in general, and those closest to us were trying to edge away as far as they could without falling off the bleachers. Never mind glaring daggers; when she let her hand fall down her face and her eyes came into view, she was glaring honest-to-goodness swords at the culprit. Part of me wondered whether she was going to try to leave and go after her, but happily she was able to force her anger under control after a little while.
"So. Friend of yours?" one of the Shadowbolts snarked at Rainbow when she got close enough, nodding in the general direction of Sunset.
"Oh, don't even get me started," Rainbow retorted with a smirk, finally buckling down as the game continued. You know, they'd probably be alright if they weren't so smug all the time.
I take back what I was thinking. Sunset gave the heavy-set person a quick look that was half irritation, half bemusement. He's not a potential psychopath. He's just a jerk.
Focus, Sunset. If you don't focus, you won't get that extra credit. Stop worrying about yourself for a moment and keep your eyes on the game.
...Ugh. Maybe I should've taken some aspirin or something with me.
The game edged on into the second quarter. I wasn't anywhere near cold anymore, but all the same I kept everything where it was. Sunset still hadn't recognized me yet, and I aimed to keep it that way for as long as I could.
I was a little bit surprised by the differences in how the game was handled on the high school level compared to NBA games. For one, they were much shorter: each quarter was only eight minutes in length. Looking back it makes sense, considering the energy and overall physical condition of people at that age. Still seemed a bit odd to me, though.
For another, I didn't see any sign of a shot clock. I looked up information on it later, and it turns out that there's only a handful of states in the country that require the use of one at the high school level, and ours wasn't one of them.
But they're not trying to deliberately stall in order to get a good shot, I told myself as a defensive foul was called against the Wondercolts. They're still treating the game as if there was an active clock. Though, how does this--
"Kick their tails, Shadowbolts!" the person seated in front of me abruptly yelled, startling me out of my contemplations. "Go for it!"
Several CHS students who were seated nearby turned to glare at him, but he ignored them all. Out the corner of my eye I noticed Sunset grumbling inaudibly at the disturbance.
Deciding on a little fun at his expense, I raised a hand to the back of the guy's head and held up two fingers in an approximation of bunny ears. One of the students who'd heard the guy yell chuckled a little before turning back towards the game; I jerked my hand back as the cat-caller looked around in confusion.
"Real mature, sir," Sunset murmured, snorting softly.
I traced 'oh, hush' in the air with my finger. She rolled her eyes, but didn't comment.
As I continued taking mental notes on the game and how they could apply to math, the Wondercolts struggled on the court. Despite their best efforts, they were losing 31-19 as the second quarter neared its end. Crystal Prep's offense was average at best, at least that I could tell, but their defense was top notch. At the very least it was enough to keep anyone not named Rainbow Dash from scoring more than five points in the half.
Yeah, I finally ascertained her name during the quarter, but that's not important right now.
I tended to be drawn to underdogs in sports, and the Wondercolts looked to be it in this situation. Any other fan would've cheered or shouted words of encouragement, but sadly I wasn't any other fan. I was Puma Claw, a wild cat that couldn't roar or yowl without putting his voice at risk. Any encouragement was right out the window.
Any vocal encouragement, that is.
Sunset almost jolted when she felt something nudge her arm. Fighting back the irritation caused by a growing headache and her overall disinterest with the game in general, she glanced to her left and saw that the heavy-set stranger was trying to get her attention. "What do you want?" she asked harshly.
The stranger gestured at her pen and notepad, pointed at himself, then traced a question mark in the air. "Whatever," she groused as she begrudgingly handed them both over. "Not like I was using them for anything important anyway."
Nodding in thanks, the man turned to the first blank page he could find and wrote 'CHS' in large, bold lettering, shading it to make it more visible...
As the buzzer sounded and the second quarter ended, the home squad was feeling dismal. The Shadowbolts were probably going to end up winning again, and it was hard for the Wondercolts to feel motivated in any way. Rainbow Dash, who was usually responsible for keeping her team in the game, was finding it difficult to do so given her sub-par play up to that point (well, sub-par by her standards, anyway). Everyone local was subdued, with only the visitors being in high spirits.
A series of soft, repeated thumps reached the edge of Rainbow's hearing before her team could leave for the locker room. ...Okay, that's getting annoying. Where's that sound coming from? she asked herself as she looked around, stopping short of the door.
"Hey, Dash," one of her teammates called for her. "What are you waiting for? Coach Strongheart wants to talk to us."
"Hold up a sec," Rainbow said sharply, one hand in a 'quiet' gesture. "Anyone else hear that?"
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Up there!" one of the cheerleaders called out, pointing at the stands.
Rainbow followed her finger and saw that she was singling out one of those in attendance. Huh, she said to herself. That's the guy who let Sunset Shimmer get hit.
Disregarding that memory before it could get her laughing, Rainbow took in the source of the sound. The person was holding up a notepad, the page on it emblazoned with the school's letters. He was rhythmically striking each letter in succession with two of his fingers; it wasn't particularly loud, but in the general silence of the gym it still reached her clearly.
It took a few moments for Rainbow to understand what he was doing. He's cheering, she told herself. Weird way of doing it, but he's cheering.
Those nearest to him were noticing what he was doing. Aside from Sunset, who was looking on with a pained expression, the locals were starting to clap in time with the 'cheer'. Those farther away that couldn't tell what was happening were instead beginning to kick up a "CHS" chant that was growing in volume and force. This in turn was picked up by the cheerleader squad, who had regained the desire to do what they'd signed up for.
And as soon as the first notes of a disembodied song reached her ears, Rainbow knew what she had to do.
I slowed down and stopped as the chanting and clapping had gotten as loud as they were likely going to get. Everyone else could take it from here; my arms were getting tired, and--
...
...Am I hearing a guitar somewhere? I looked around curiously, but I didn't see any signs of a band or stereo. It didn't sound like it was coming from the PA speakers, either: it was clear as day, high-quality with no static or interference whatsoever.
Which meant only one thing.
This wasn't the first time I'd noticed a song springing up from out of nowhere. When I served an in-school suspension for tardiness back in sixth grade, I got to sing one myself about how nice it was to spend a day away from people who liked to cause me trouble (and I found it jarring that when singing, I sounded like someone else entirely). This was, however, the first time I'd noticed an entire crowd--or in this case, a chunk of one--joining in, and I wasn't sure what to make of it.
Even Sunset was joining in, though it was easy to tell that her heart wasn't really in it. She looked like she was having difficulty taking any of this seriously. Still, she didn't pay attention to me as I gave the notepad and pen back to her, feeling just this side of bemused.
Twelve points down
A crowd of frowns
What will cheer us up the most?
Shooters rake
In three-point makes
A fast break from coast to coast!
Teach them manners as their hosts!
CHS is on the express
We're stampeding across the court!
It doesn't matter what you try
We tell the truth, we cannot lie
Best notify your next of kin
It's the Wondercolts for the win!
Not to be outdone, the Crystal Prep faction--visiting fans, team and all--joined in the song with a comeback. It was a whirlwind of imagery and energy, blue and gold clashing with purple and violet. It's easy to think the whole thing was rehearsed, but that's just looking from an outsider's perspective. This was entirely on the spot, and the performances from both sides were positively seamless.
Hometown cheers
Attack our ears
What will take them down the most?
Major dents
In their defense
Reduce any hope to toast!
Teach them what it means to boast!
It's one big step for Crystal Prep
we're quicker than the speed of light!
As you stay grounded, up we fly
There is no limit but the sky!
Wake up and open up your eyes
The Shadowbolts will claim the prize!
Following some impressive guitar riffs with just a hint of techno, the dual factions alternated chants of 'CHS' and 'Crystal Prep' until the calls faded beneath the clapping that had started up again. A moment later, that faded beneath a drum beat which slowly shifted into silence...
And discounting certain people--namely myself and Sunset, the latter of whom was looking increasingly upset--the entire crowd roared their support for their teams.
"Hey, Dash?" the teammate that had called for her earlier spoke up. Rainbow could tell without turning that she was smiling. "Coach Strongheart says 'Never mind. Rest up and go get 'em, girls.'"
"That's all the motivation I need," Rainbow replied as she grabbed some water and sat down near the bleachers. One didn't need an imagination to see that a newfound fire was burning in her eyes: the 'stay-out-of-my-way-I'm-coming-through' type of determination seen in athletes just before they take the rest of the game by storm.
Get ready, Crystal Prep. We're not out of this yet!
The song had more of an effect than I expected on everyone. Both sides might have taken part, but new life had been breathed into the hometown Wondercolts. Over the course of the third quarter, they reduced the deficit from twelve to eight, to five, to three, and to one by the time the buzzer sounded. It was becoming a real fight for Crystal Prep to keep their lead, with CHS making them work for every shot they took and leaving no one open for long.
The team had become tons more aggressive on both sides of the court, taking CPH off guard. Rainbow Dash was leading the charge, as was expected, but that didn't mean the rest of the team wasn't contributing; several of them were leaping for rebounds and blocked shots often enough that I thought they were trying to fly.
By the time the third quarter ended, the score was 38-37 in the Shadowbolts' favor. Things were looking up.
When the horn sounded to end the quarter, Sunset finally gave up trying to think about how to get the extra credit and considered it lost.
Nothing had been going right for her so far this evening. In the time following her encounter with a rogue basketball, her headache was getting steadily worse. She wanted nothing more than to find some painkillers and get it dealt with, or at the very least get some ice on it, but between being hemmed in and the sheer volume of the song earlier, things were deteriorating quickly. She tried to focus on the game, but in the end she had a grade-A distraction that wouldn't stop running interference.
Sunset's nose wrinkled as something hit her nostrils, and she glared at nothing. The 'jerk' next to her had made no sign of getting out of his coat and hat up to this point, the heated gymnasium notwithstanding. Of course, that meant that he would eventually start sweating, which in turn meant the scent she was catching was fairly obvious.
Maybe it was the headache messing with her mind, but she was beginning to get the impression that the person knew who she was and wasn't eager to make himself known for that reason. That would mean that he was someone she already knew, which in turn meant that snatching his hat and goggles to see who he was didn't have the repercussions she'd initially feared.
As the 4th quarter began, Sunset let herself be convinced of that belief and nudged the person's arm. "Excuse me, but you're sure you're not feeling miserable bundled up like that? It's something like 72 degrees in here."
"Mrrrrmm, mrhm," the person grumbled, sounding irritable.
"I'm serious," Sunset insisted. "There shouldn't be any reason for you to have that heavy coat on when its this warm in here. What harm is there in taking it off for what, eight minutes?"
"Rrmhm mr rmr hmrmrhm." The stranger gestured first at himself, then at her.
Sunset had no clue what he was saying, as the scarf was muffling his speech, and she was quickly running out of patience. "What are you talking abo--- hey!"
The person snatched her notepad and pen away from her before she could react and scribbled two words on it before showing them to her. "'You first'? What..." Sunset muttered, belatedly remembering that she'd never removed her own coat. Sure, it was lighter than some of the others she'd seen in the crowd, and she didn't have as far to go walking to school as others she could name, but still. "Look, this isn't about me. I'm fine. I'm more concerned about you right now."
The stranger shook his head firmly, over-exaggerating it a little, then wrote some more. 'I'm trying to watch a game here, female dog, and you aren't helping.'
Female dog?... ...Oh. Right. That. "Do you have any idea just how uncalled for that was?" Sunset asked, eyes narrowing.
The person said nothing, handing her things back to her and pointedly turning his head back towards the court. Huffing in irritation, Sunset pocketed both items and followed his lead, glaring at him out the corners of her eyes. This isn't over. First thing after the game, you and I are going to have words, and not the 'spelling bee' kind.
Watching the game had been fun, but now I was starting to get more nervous than ever. It probably wouldn't be long before she figured out who had been next to her the entire time, and whatever it was she would do at that point filled me with dread.
I couldn't just get up and leave, though. Those around us were still hemming us in, and while I could still get up and leave, I couldn't really do so without making a scene.
"Hey, watch it!"
Sunset would immediately take notice and would follow after me, and it didn't take a mathematician to figure out how long I'd be able to keep away from her.
"Watch your step there, seriously!"
I'd gladly take an escape route if it were offered me, but the chances of one spontaneously appearing out of thin air were next to no---
"Hey, Shimmercakes! Scoot over, will ya? I'd like to talk to you!"
My eyes widened enough that for a split second they could be seen around my goggles, and the both of us whipped our heads to the right. Dallas Austin was making his way down the row towards us, much to the irritation of those seated there and along the section perimeter.
No, no, no! Why now of all times? Why now?
Sunset's relationship with Dallas was hardly nice, even discounting his friendly-yet-aggressive attitude. She'd never forgiven him for throwing that book at her without provocation, and she was certain that if it weren't for the constant presence of eyewitnesses, they would've ended up trading punches. Granted she was always tempted to do so anyway, but she still had her reputation to think about.
"---look, I've been doing a lot of thinking," Dallas was saying, temporarily getting her attention. He squeezed himself into the seat between her and the person on her right, making her shift uncomfortably for a second at his proximity. "Maybe I've been going about this the wrong way, but I---"
A shuffling noise and a muffled 'thud' yanked her attention away, and she turned towards where her game-long companion had been seated...
...just in time to see the top of his hat drop over the edge of the bleachers. "Oh, no you're not!" she snarled, her headache and general disgust finally pushing her patience past its limit. Bolting to her feet and ignoring the protests of those she had to squeeze past, Sunset jumped down to where she saw him vanish to. She didn't see him, but that didn't stop her; there was only one place where she figured he wanted to go, so she made her way past those on the floor towards the exit.
Flummoxed, Dallas could do nothing but blink at Sunset's abrupt exit. "...Huh," he finally said. "If she didn't want to accept my apology, she could've just said so." He shrugged and smiled. "Oh, well. Free seats!"
Settling into the open space, he leaned back to watch the rest of the game. There were only a few minutes left, and with Crystal Prep finally getting their feet back under them after the Wondercolts' surge, victory could go either way.
A few seconds after I saw Sunset jump down and maneuver towards where I came in, I picked my way underneath the bleachers towards one of the gym's other exits. I hated having to hit the floor from that height, but I didn't see myself having any other choice: I was not going to linger around there any more than I needed to. Sitting next to Sunset for the entire game was bad enough, and there wasn't enough 'nope' in the world to express my desire to make myself scarce as soon as Dallas got himself involved. I might not have had any choice during school hours, but any chance to escape his notice outside of them was fair play.
Plus, I had to get out of my heavy winter gear. I let myself get stuck with it because I didn't want Sunset knowing who I was, but now that she'd probably figured things out, I needed to cool off for a bit. As soon as I was safely in an adjoining hallway and out of sight from the crowd at large, I took the opportunity to do just that.
Seriously, people: a winter wrap-up more than an hour long. I was at my limit, temperature-wise.
Quickly I went over my options before shaking my head. There was no choice: I had to call home and arrange for a pickup. The game wasn't over yet, but I didn't want to go back in there and risk being spotted by Sunset or Dallas. I believed I had everything I needed to write my essay, and if I wanted to know what the final score was, I could always ask one of my lunchmates or check the next edition of the Express. Maybe even the city paper, the more I thought about it.
I jumped when a fairly loud 'bang' startled me, and I turned to see what had caused it. Some girl I didn't know had apparently just gotten done trying (unsuccessfully) to punch one of the lockers. "Too noisy," I muttered to myself.
The girl turned to glare at me, but the tears at the corners of her eyes negated some of their force. "Someone stole my coat and phone," she protested. "I have every right to be noisy." She pointed in the general direction of the exit and the weather I knew was beyond it. "I have to walk home in that, and I can't even call home for a lift! Why they got rid of the payphones here is beyond me!"
I was a bit taken back, and my first impulse was to utter something along the lines of "Wow, tough break" and walk away, which I obeyed. My second impulse, which I also obeyed, was to retrieve my phone and toss my winter gear over my shoulder. "May as well take these, then. It's cold as Michigan out there."
I didn't see the girl's expression, but she sounded both appreciative and confused. "...Um... thanks?"
"You're welcome," I mumbled, already trying to go over in my mind just what I was going to say to my Mom and hoping she wouldn't be too upset at me.
The game was spontaneously winding down and heating up, but Sunset didn't care. The cheering crowd and even her headache were delegated to positions of minimal importance. What she did care about was trying to find that stranger and getting that particular mystery dealt with.
The problem was that whoever it was had pulled a complete vanishing act. There was neither hide, hair, nor hat of him anywhere; there was no evidence of the door she'd been heading for ever being opened. After scouting the floor and the seats, she even circled the gym and checked under the bleachers themselves, but ended her search with nothing to show for it beyond a discarded coat that was nowhere close to the stranger's in size.
Okay, this is beyond crazy. People of that size are not this stealthy...
...
...! Sunset's mind flashed back several months to when she'd thought similarly about a certain soda pop-guzzling student, and all the puzzle pieces finally combined. "I'm not the only one who's going to need an aspirin tonight," she snarled to herself, turning towards the door she was standing in front of and starting to open it...
...only for the door to open of its own volition, disgorging the very person she was trying to find. Sunset had just enough time to hiss softly in surprise before they collided, knocking them both to the ground with stifled cries.
"Hello, Mom?" I said into my phone as I stood near the exit. "The game's just about over, and I'm going to need picked up."
"Alright, I'll be there shortly."
I winced at what I was about to say. "Also, I'm going to need some new winter gear. Everything except for boots."
Mom's disbelief was audible. "...Why? What happened to what we gave you?"
Alright, I've had it with tonight. Enough is enough! Lashing out and catching him by surprise, Sunset yanked the hat away and pulled the goggles up onto his forehead...
...But the eyes that looked back at her weren't Puma's. Instead, an unfamiliar green-skinned face stared back at her, midway between fearful and surprised. Sunset's eyes shot open. What the...?!
The girl's fear gave way to confusion, and she lowered her scarf so she could speak clearly. "What?"
Sunset didn't answer. Dropping the hat, she jumped to her feet and took a few steps off to the side to let the girl pass. Mad as she was, her current gripe was with Puma, not her. Okay, I know that was him sitting next to me the whole time. He wouldn't have just given up his gear in light of that snowstorm out there. Where in blazes did he go?
"...IIIII might have given it to someone who needed it a lot more than I did. Her coat was stolen, she looked like she was cold, and, well..."
It took a few moments before Mom could bring herself to answer. "We'll talk more about that later. I'm on my way."
Across the gym, an exasperated "Oh, come on!" rang out, followed closely by the final buzzer and the cheers of the visiting Crystal Prep faction. Sunset turned right before she could leave and saw that the basketball had somehow gotten stuck between the rim and the backboard, leaving Rainbow Dash a frustrated mess. The rest of CHS's team and most of the crowd was reduced to sulking, another potential victory against CPH snatched away from them. The Shadowbolts themselves were either celebrating or breathing relieved sighs.
Huh. Didn't even think that trick was possible.
Visitors - 51
Home - 50
Mentally logging that little factoid away, Sunset hustled off into the halls to catch up to Puma...
...only to become aware of a much more urgent need. A heartfelt "Son of a witch" escaped her as she made a beeline for the restroom instead, silently regretting the mug of hot chocolate she'd had prior to leaving for the game.
...
And so it was that a few minutes later, Sunset charged into the foyer towards the exit... just in time to look outside and see a coatless Puma evade both her and the snowstorm by jumping inside a red minivan. She slowed to a stop in the middle of the room, hands tightening as she recalled everything that transpired that evening.
Elsewhere in town, a tea kettle whistled.
Back at their respective locker rooms as they prepared to head back to their individual homes (or dorms, case depending), athletes from both schools froze up momentarily in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. Echoing back to them was the scream of an angry girl who, without context, seemed to be cursing out a cat.
A CPH student who was just about to leave the gymnasium flinched as he heard the distant tirade. He turned to someone who appeared to be part of the hometown crowd and addressed her, asking: "Just so I'm clear, this school isn't haunted, right?"
Applejack sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, recognizing who was screaming but not why. "Depends on yer point of view," she answered as she walked away.
Later that night, as she recuperated and gradually got her thinking processes back in order, Sunset silently vowed that she would never attend another sports event as long as she lived on this side of the mirror.
...Well, maybe not unless it involves motorcycles.
Ultimately, it turned out we didn't need to go to the store for some new gear after all. The next day when my Dad went outside to shovel the driveway, he discovered everything piled on a chair out front. There was a note clipped to my coat that read: "Thank you for letting me borrow this. I found my coat shoved beneath the bleachers before I left yesterday, so it turns out I didn't need them after all. I'm sorry for any trouble I caused you. -- W. B."
(It wouldn't be until much later that I discovered that whoever that student was, her parents were acquainted with mine, hence how she knew where to bring the coat. Small world.)
And in case anyone's wondering, here's a copy of my essay. I know it's not the greatest, but my teacher liked it enough to give me the extra credit for it:
...
Puma Claw
12-06-2013
Room #201
1st Hour - Algebra
From one end of the court to the other, basketball is saturated in mathematics. It's more than just throwing the ball at the backboard and hoping the shot goes through. It combines athleticism with quick thinking: will the shot count, or will it bounce off the rim into the hands of the opposing team? If someone on the other team has the ball and she's driving towards the basket, which way will she go, and will the defender be able to take the appropriate actions needed in order to steal the ball? Can you process information fast enough to make a difference in gameplay?
In-between starting a crowd song and taunting the Shadowbolts and their fans behind their backs, I got to thinking about this. During the third quarter, CHS's team captain attempted a 3-point shot. Almost as soon as it left her hands, she called for one of her teammates, who got herself into position in time to get the rebound. The shot in question looked as if it was going to go in, but ultimately rolled out. If she was just chucking the ball with a hope and a prayer, the captain shouldn't have been able to figure out that it would miss so quickly. Doing so requires a decent understanding of mathematics, or at least being able to put your brain to work on the fly.
This demonstrates that athletes--at least those on the high school level--aren't supposed to be dunces. The fact that a 3.0 GPA is required for CHS students to try out for sports at all, combined with all the hours of practice that they put in, means that they get to put their math skills to the test in mid-game--and they probably don't even realize it. It takes more than just physical skills to block a shot hard enough to send a ball ricocheting off a queen bee's forehead; it also takes an excellent understanding of just where the ball will go and how it will reach that point.
As an aside, I don't envy the Shadowbolt who did that, but better her than me.
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9837928
Honestly, I'm not sure I want to know. ()^_^
Why does this story have so many dislikes? I mean, it can't be that bad, right? ...Right?
10235662
I wish I knew why, but in the end I'm not going to complain. I like having a Sith lightsaber for a like/dislike bar.
But in all seriousness, I'm aware that my writing style and state of mind isn't for everyone. With that in mind, I decided a while back to write for those who can put up with them. Even if only a few people legitimately enjoy my works, that's just fine with me.
This is a really interesting and funny story