Six Feet Apart

Chapter 2

The next day, I sit on the porch swing with Twilight. A few minutes into my reading, I hear the familiar sounds of a basketball swishing through the net. I look over and see Rowen out in his yard, shooting hoops again. I sit and observe him for a moment, watching the flexing of his calves when he jumps for a shot and how he bites his lip every time he prepares to shoot.

When he finally notices me watching him, he looks at me and I wave, but I'm disappointed when he doesn't return the gesture. I sit there for a few minutes and suddenly feel the urge to go over to the fence and talk to him. Not thinking fast enough to come up with something to say, I find myself at the fence in embarrassment.

"Nice shot!" I say, when nothing else comes to mind. Gosh that sounds stupid.

But to my surprise he smiles at me. Tucking the ball under his arm, he walks closer, until we are about six feet apart. His chest rises and falls quickly as he regains his breath enough to be able to respond.

"Thanks" he manages to stammer. He bends down so that his hands rest on his knees while he stands.

"You know, I used to play basketball when I was younger." I go on. "I stopped playing on a team freshman year, though, unfortunately."

He gives a pained look. "Aw, what a shame! It's really a beautiful sport."

What a shame? What kind of phrase is that? I internally crack up. "Well I'm not sure I would quite call it beautiful," I chuckle before I can finish my thought. Hopefully a bit of light humor will make this less awkward. Wow! I really need to stop overthinking this simple interaction.

I continue. "It's been a while since I played a game, do you want to come to my yard and we can play a little game of one-on-one? I don't know how strict your family is taking social distancing, but if you're allowed to then you're welcome to come over here and play a couple rounds!" I mentally cross my fingers, dying for an excuse to shoot hoops again.

His slight smile drops into a frown. "Umm," he seems lost for words. "I--I can't." He folds his hands in front of himself and looks down awkwardly.

Darn it. I really thought he was going to say yes. "Oh that's okay!" I say, slightly let down, but another idea comes to mind. "What if we just compete to get the most shots in our baskets in 60 seconds?" Good thinking, I mentally high-five myself for saving the interaction there.

The sides of his mouth curve up again as his eyes meet mine. "Sure, sounds like fun!"

I smile. "Alright, I'll be right back."

I open the side gate to the backyard, practically skipping as I open the shed and grab the ever so slightly deflated basketball that has been neglected the past few months. I turn it in my hands, letting my fingers feel the years' worth of chalking sidewalk residue encasing the ball. So many memories flood into my mind, but not necessarily all good ones.

I used to love basketball. I'd play for hours after school every day with Adria, who had been my best friend. We always had so much fun shooting hoops, practicing layups, and playing mini games with our other friends. We were both on the school team through junior high, and had so many good memories at games, championships, and trips. But when we got to high school, Adria and I started meeting a lot of new people, and more of them seemed to like Adria. A lot more of them. This held especially true when it came to the basketball team. Adria befriended a bunch of our teammates, and seeking popularity, fed them all kinds of lies about me so that they wouldn't want to be around me. At every practice, they would either ignore me or make fun of me, at every game they would refuse to pass the ball to me. And every night I would come home crying. Our basketball hangouts began to diminish, and eventually stopped altogether. After a few months of this, I saw no other hope to be rid of the constant humiliation than by dropping out and quitting the team. And with my quitting the basketball team, I unconsciously ended up quitting the whole sport. Every time I picked up the ball and shot hoops with my family or by myself, it just wasn't the same, and only reminded me of playing with Adria or the team. Basketball had always been my main source of friendships, so when I left the team, I had no idea where to turn or who to trust, so I became lonely at school. Pretty much my entire freshman year was miserable. But luckily, sophomore year yielded a few new faces that were friendly enough to talk to, and I eventually started to make some new friends.

I shudder as I stand there with the ball in my hands. Now I have good friends, but holding the decaying thing sends so many feelings rushing back to me. I force them aside, take a deep breath, and walk back to the front yard. It'll be different this time. I coax myself to believe. It'll be different with Rowen.

I come back to the front yard, where I see Rowen dribbling his ball up and down his driveway to warm up. "You better be ready," I call over, teasingly. "It might've been a little while since I've played a game, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten how to play completely!"

He playfully cracks his fingers in preparation. "You're on, Brooks!" he calls, and I feel my lips turn up. Him calling me by my last name means that he's probably noticed the small sign hanging over our porch that says "The Brooks". How else would he have acquired that information? This kid is observant.

I prepare a timer on my phone for 60 seconds and get into a shooting stance. After Rowen has done the same, I call out, "Siri, start timer", she counts down, and the game begins.

I shoot hoop after hoop. The first few shots are a little bit tricky, but once I make my first shot in the basket, I get the rush I remember getting every time I used to score a point. As I feel myself getting back into my old rhythm, it becomes a lot easier and I start getting more shots. My years of training return to my muscle memory, and I find each swish of the net coming easily.

I steal a quick look at Rowen, making basket after basket. The way he turns the ball in his hand before each time he throws is familiar, and suddenly the memory of Adria has popped back into my mind. Shoving her unwelcome image out of my mind, I redirect my attention to the task at hand, and make a basket that swishes right through the net without even touching the rim or backboard. Take that, Adria.

I hear the timer go off, and watch Rowen as he sets the ball on the ground and rests in a squatting position, catching his breath. A couple seconds later after we've both regained our ability to speak, he looks at me and we both laugh awkwardly. "How many did you get?" he asks.

"19, you?"

"21. Close match!" I see him furrow his brow. "If you're still so good I can't imagine how talented you must have been when you were training every day. Why'd you stop?"

Taken aback, I give the simplest explanation I can come up with. "Umm," I pause, trying to figure out how to put this into words without making myself sound like a total loser. "I had a really close friend who used to play basketball with me all the time, and when she started to turn on me, playing basketball just became too painful." I did not plan on sharing that kind of personal information with anyone today.

He looks ashamed for having asked. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know." And I believe him, with his cute little eyes saying what his mouth can't. Funnily enough, the adorable expression on his face comforts me. But I can't help noticing that he looks a little uncomfortable at the same time. It makes me laugh and I momentarily forget about the painful subject we'd just discussed.

I wave him off. "Don't worry about it. Honestly." He gives me a pitying smile and crosses one leg over the other as he looks like he wishes to disappear. And somehow his apparent wish is granted.

"Auv! You never did the dishes like you promised me you would!" I hear my mother call from inside my house. Rowen's face relaxes more noticeably than I think he cared to show.

"Coming mum!" I yell back to her. "Well, it sounds like I've gotta get going then. But this was fun!"

"Yeah we should do it again," he looks over at me and then back to his house, as if just waiting to go back inside.

I wave at him as I turn to go inside. "Catch you later!"

"Goodbye!" I hear him say gently as I head back in before my mother yells again.