Chapter Seven
Aamir
I dribble the ball away from the prying hands in front of me, turn sharply to my right and shoot. The ball flies across the court, eases into the hoop and lands with a thud. We won. Again. My team cheers and rushed toward me. They do a victory dance making me chuckle.
'Good game! Take five boys.' Mr. Todd, our coach says aloud and blows his whistle. I wince, he loves doing that.
'This is the second time today.' Someone whines.
'Get used to it.' Mark shoves the guy and joins me and Fahad as we walk back to the bleachers. He's the typical American; short blond hair and blue eyes. A complete lady's man paired with a non serious attitude. He calls himself a charming pig. I couldn't agree more.
'You nailed it bro!'
'Nice one Ray.'
'Dang!'
'Killer shot.' I just nod as humbly as I can and mutter a "Thank you." I lean on my knees and gulp my Gatorade. What a work out this has been.
'How'd you do that?' Fahad asks with a shake of his head.
'Practice.'
'You own every game by just practicing?' He sits beside me and dabs his forehead with a towel. I nod and thank Allah silently.
'I swear you're in my team next time.' I just laugh and run a hand through my hair.
'There are players better than me Fahad.'
'Naw, he's being modest.' Mark interjects and grabs my Gatorade bottle. He takes a swig and hands it back to me.
'I'm serious.'
'Me too.' He winks. 'By the way, there's a party tonight. Think you guys can make it?'
'Yes.' Fahad says before I can.
'No I-'
'What time?'
'Nine.' They completely ignore me.
'We'll be there.'
'Guys-' I try again.
'Alright come on! Game time!' Coach yells and blows his whistle again. Mark jogs toward the center of the court and Fahad's about to leave but I grab him by his t-shirt.
'You're so dead.'
'Don't you think you're overreacting?' He eyes my tight fist.
'Overreacting?' I ask him in an incredulous tone.
'It'll be fun.' He reasons.
'Fun my sweet round bottom.' I shove him back and walk to my place on the court. I notice him pat his t-shirt down and follow after me.
'Okay captains take your positions.' Mark and our opponent Jace stands in the center. The ball is held in the middle and at the whistle it's tossed up in the air, Jace smacks the ball in the direction of Fahad, who's dribbling it to his side of the court, I chase after him but a very familiar voice distracts me.
'There he is.' I turn to find three girls quietly slipping into the gym and watching us play. One girl in particular grabs my attention, it's the same one I haven't seen in three days. She laughs at something her friend- I assume Layla- says.
Haya. I think to myself. Her eyes meet mine as if she read my mind. She smiles. Before I can respond, I feel something hit my chest knocking the air out of me. I lose balance and fall sideways against the hard floor twisting my ankle in the process. I hear gasps in the direction of the girls.
