The Salvador Legacy

07 | "It was Mash-"

Friday, 1:00 pm

Now, let's talk about my epic two-minute journey from the restroom to these forsaken bleachers. You'd think I was in a sprinting competition at the Olympics, the way I dashed through the halls. But guess what? Those two minutes felt like an eternity.

I barely made it halfway because I had an audience, folks! Every pair of eyes in that corridor was locked onto me like I was a performer in the world's clumsiest ballet.

If embarrassment were a currency, I'd be a billionaire by now.

I opted for a quiet escape to the bleachers, a place where I could find the solitude I craved. As I made my way toward them, each step felt measured.

The surroundings seemed to grow quieter with every stride, the distant echoes of chatter and activity fading into the background.

The sound of basketballs dribbling and sneakers squeaking echoed in the background as I flung open the doors. The seniors were in the midst of their practice, but they were too absorbed in their slam dunks and three-pointers.

It was as if they had collectively decided to grant me invisibility, probably because they had more important things to worry about than the latest viral embarrassment on Instagram.

They were in their own world, and for once, I was grateful for their complete indifference.

I plopped down on one of the seats when Otis, the human basketball wizard, was casually throwing hoops that had more precision than a GPS guiding a lost driver to their destination.

I couldn't help but envy those perfect shots and thought, "If only my life were as spot-on as Otis's throws. Maybe then I'd have it all together."

My phone turned into a little buzzing bee as Max unleashed a text message storm on me.

Max: WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS

Max: I'M GONNA FUCK BIANCA UP REAL GOOD

Max: GIRL, WHERE YOU @

Max's words came in hotter than a jalapeño.

I quickly texted back, "I'm at the bleachers," and immediately winced as the coach exploded at one of the players.

"What in the name of basketball was that, Rodriguez?! Are you trying to make our opponents laugh themselves to defeat? Dunking the ball like it's a bag of groceries?" his face turning redder than a tomato.

"And you, Smith, you were supposed to back him up! What were you doing, admiring the ceiling tiles? IT'S MONDAY ALREADY" he roared.

"What do you think comes after Sunday, Sunday JR? Ofcourse Monday" Otis the resident comedian couldn't resist chiming in.

That was good

The players chuckled and the Coach's jaw visibly tightened as he narrowed his gaze to Otis.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this, we don't have time to mess around! The big day is creeping up on us faster. Now, let's run those drills again. Smith and Rodriguez tighten up that zone defense, keep those hands up, and don't let them breathe. They get no easy baskets"

He takes a moment to pause before questioning the inevitable, "Now, where's Mr. Cartier?"

Since when did Jameson pla-

"Aye, captain!" Jameson cut my thoughts off by performing a jaw-dropping move that left everyone speechless. He shot the ball right into the hoop.

But here's the kicker - he did it all the way from the entrance doors to the bleachers, which was about as far from the court as the moon is from Earth