The Fine Art Of Bullshit

Is Ball The Only Thing You're Playing?

Surprise, surprise I am, indeed, alive.

This was requested by @imahottsimp a long time ago

Enjoy :)

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Chemistry has never been more annoying. I feel my braincells fucking deteriorating as we speak and let me tell you, it does not feel good. I took a pen and just kind of started doodling about while letting my mind wonder to the only thing that kind of matters at the moment.

Basketball.

Some would say that chasing a rubber ball around a stinky highschool  gym isn't their top priority in life. Far from it actually. And honestly I get it. Especially after the mens team gets out of their uniforms and leaves the eye stinging putrid smell of unwashed ass and axe bodyspray behind. But I think that the most important thing is that I like it and not only do I like it, I like it so much that I'm ready to rip someones head off just for being on the opposite team.

At least in Makis case.

Ah yes. Maki motherfucking Zenin. That sly motherfucker has been riding my ass since freshman year and no matter how much I try to ignore her, she manages to push my buttons just enough to leave me fuming and spluttering insults left and right. She mostly just leaves with that stupid smirk on her face, seemingly satisfied that she managed to get a reaction out of me.

But I have to admit, it's fun playing against her. Though I'd rather shit in my hands and clap than actually admit that out loud. Still, there's this undeniable vibe that we have going on and that just makes the game more interesting overall.

The fact that I hate her guts makes me want to push myself to be better, do better, play better and as long I can use that feeling to my advantage I will, because honestly I've never played better.

Speaking of the devil with the number 10 on her back, we're playing against them this weekend and I don't know why I'm so excidet about this match. Something is going to be different.

I know it.

Anyway, I have practice right after this lame ass class and since there's an hour left, I take out the totally not fake permission slip and pack my shit. Putting my jacket on I wander over to the front desk, slide the piece of paper over to the teacher who examines it quizically.

"Again, Miss Kugisaki?" He half asks, half states while looking over at me over the rim of his thick glasses. He slides the neatly folded piece of paper back to me.

"What can I say, Mr. Lewis, I'm a busy woman." I shrug, shoulder my bag and stuff the neatly folded piece of paper in my pocket.

"I'll see you tomorrow, goodbye." And with that I exit the classroom and make my way over to the lockers.

Can you really blame me? I mean, I'm great at chemistry and all, but it's so boring. I'm just glad he's not grading attendance, 'cause I'd be flunking left and right. Not that it matters anyway. Everyone knows what happens to D1 students.

They end up working at a burger joint and complain about their 'torn ACL'S'.

I make my way over to the locker rooms and put my things away.

Changing into my practice uniform always felt like relieving my shoulders of that extra ammount of pressure. When I play, I can leave everything in the gym hallway and forget about the world for a few hours. My parents, school, championship and even Maki at times can make me want to crumble under all of it, but still I have no other choice than to keep pushing. I owe it to myself the most for coming this far. I can't let myself quit.