Rivals Pt. 02

I don't know how I feel about sharing my work in front of other people. "So, let's discuss what we'll be doing this semester. For the most part, the papers I will assign will be pretty open to your choosing. I want you to write about the things you find passionate. Writing should be fun. So as long as you turn in something that you've put a lot of time and consideration into, you'll get a good grade."

--

Art Class

I walk into Art class with the supplies required in the syllabus. There are no tables or chairs. Just an open classroom and I just sorta stand there waiting to be told what to do. Shortly after, Usha walks in with her supplies. Her hair is done up in braids. Our eyes meet and she smiles. "Didn't know you were an artist."

"I wouldn't really say an artist. I just love to paint," I say. "I'm not sure you can call the end result of my work art."

"I beg to disagree," Usha says. "As long as it comes from the heart, it's art."

She sets her things down and grabs two canvases and hands me one. We set up our things next to each other. As the other students trickle in, they all follow suit as we form a circle around the classroom. When the art professor, a woman with short blonde hair and a colorful red and white dress painted in roses wrapped tightly with a white cloth, she greets us merrily. "Good morning class. Or is it afternoon? One tends to lose track of time when they lose themselves in the imaginative magic of art. Regardless, I'm Paola and I'll be your guide on your artistic journey through this class."

"Usha, good to see you, dear," she says as she takes a look around at us. Usha nods. "I will not lecture in this class. I find art is best learned by doing. We will spend our class working on the craft. Usha will aid, but she is also free to work as well. Now, as far as what beautiful wonders you'll create, that's up to you. I can only provide inspiration. For today, I was thinking of a beautiful bowl of stones."

She grabs a small table and places it in the center of the circle. Then she places a big bowl filled with various rocks, some Petoskey stones, some quite colorful, other rather dull. "Let the art commence. I'll just wander about and give my unsolicited advice."

I look over at Usha as she begins to paint. Well, I guess there's not much more to it. I take in the pile of rocks in the bowl and do my best to paint what I see. The Petoskey stones are a bit tricky with the intricate patterns, but I do my best to replicate them on the canvas. I feel I've done a great job with the bowl, getting the shine of the light just right, but some of the rocks seem to look disproportionate.

Frustrated, I try to work with what I've done, adding depth and contrast along with shadow. But the rocks still look a tad bit off to me. "Very good. You've done a great job with the lighting and the shade. Nicely done. Just a tip, I think you're focusing too much on the shape of the rocks, trying too hard to make a perfect replica of what you see from the display. You don't need your work of art to be a perfect copy of the display, but it should reflect your perspective. Let your emotions guide your brush."

"Thank you," I say, looking up at her bluish greenish eyes and smile as the heat takes over my face.

"Usha, amazing work as always," she says as she moves on. I look over at Usha's canvas and get blown away by the unexpected beauty of her work. On her canvas isn't a pile of rocks but a delicate rose. Half of it is dead, decaying into dust in the middle of an urban city and the other half is vibrantly alive, blooming beautifully in a flourishing landscape of a verdant forest.

"Nice rocks," I say, with a lighthearted laugh.

She smiles. "Paola doesn't care what you paint as long as you paint from the heart. Just let your emotions guide your paintbrush and you'll get an A."

"Oh, I see. By the way, you're really talented. Your rose is beautiful. I love the meaning behind it. The more we expand, the more we lose."

"Thanks. I'm glad you like it," she smiles with a light blush on her creamy dark brown skin. "I saw a flower wilting away on a sidewalk this morning and it gave me the idea. The rose came from Paola's dress."

"Well, it's beautiful," I say.

She looks at my canvas. "Nice rocks," she smiles. We both laugh. "So how are things going with your big?"

"Great! Kennedy's taught me so much so far. How about you?" I ask.

"Ehhh... You can only imagine. Kennedy's lucky she got you. Danielle isn't exactly the easiest person to get along with," Usha says.

"I couldn't agree more," I say. "So, who was your big, if you don't mind me asking."

"No, not at all. I was lucky enough to have Milena as my big," she says.

"Really? No way! That must've been cool. What was that like?" I ask.

"Oh, Milena is pretty awesome. As long as you put the team first, she'll always have your back. She's pretty much the mom of the team. She's the person we all go to with our problems. I love her like a sister. Granted, she was my big. I learned a lot from her. She'll always be my big sis," she says.

"Aww, that's so sweet. That would be amazing to have her as a big. I remember watching her play and I was just captured by the ways she took command on the floor. Always calm and composed," I say.

"Yeah, that's definitely what she's been trying to teach me. I was a total head case, coming in as a freshman. Milena was one of the few people in my life who gave me stability and showed me how to deal with all my bottled up emotions. Her and Paola of course," Usha says. "Although, I still haven't completely figured it out and Danielle sure knows how to push the right buttons."

"Yeah, that's one of the few things she's good at," I say.

She laughs. "I'm glad you're taking this class. I finally have someone to paint with while we talk shit about Drama Queen."

I can't help but snort out a laugh. "I couldn't agree more."

--

As I walk back to the dorms, I sit in the lobby and facetime my mom. "Hey baby, how was your first day of school?" she asks,

"It wasn't too bad. I've got classes with a few of my teammates and I had my art class today."

"Really? How did that go?" she asks.

"Great! We drew rocks," I smile.

"Rocks?" she asks with a hesitant smile.

"Yeah, I guess our art professor, who's actually really cool, gives us inspiration, but we can really just draw whatever we want. Today she put out a display of a bunch of rocks, however, my teammate Usha who's also in my art class... Well, she's really more of the teacher's assistant, but Paola just lets her work, anyway, she painted this breathtaking rose. Half of it was decaying in a city while the other half was alive in a forest. It was beautiful," I say.

"That's nice, maybe you can show me," she says.

"Yeah! I'll ask if I can snap a picture of it," I say.

Suddenly, my eyes get covered up. "Guess who," the sound of Sarah's voice washes through me.

"Sarah?" I ask.

"Dang, how'd you know?" she asks.

"You have a distinct voice," I say before looking over at my mother. "Umm, mom, this is my roommate and teammate Sarah Wood, Sarah, meet my mother."

"Hi, Mrs. Elvira, it's nice to meet you," she says.

"You as well," my mother says.

"Well, I should get going mom, practice starts shortly," I say.

"Okay, mi sol, I love you," my mother says.

"Love you too, mi cielito," I say before ending the video chat.

"Sorry, didn't realize you were on the phone with your mom," she says.

"It's okay," I say.

"Mi sol and mi cielito?" she asks.

"Mi sol means my sun in Spanish and mi cielito means my sky or my heaven," I explain.

"Awww, that's adorable! Where is your mother? That didn't look like Michigan," she asks.

"My mother lives in Mexico with my father."

"Oh, how come?" she asks.

I tear my gaze away from hers. "My mother was here illegally when she met my father and they fell in love and had me. Unfortunately, my mother never became a U.S. citizen and someone reported her and she got deported back to Mexico. My father went to live with her and had me stay with my aunt and uncle in Boyne City, where he grew up."

She puts her hands on my shoulders and turns me to face her as she gives me that baby face, with her bottom lip sticking out. "That's so sad. I'm sorry."

Then she pulls me into her arms. God, it feels so good to be held in her warm embrace. It gives me all these warm and tingling feelings. Is that normal? I break out of her embrace. "We make it work. Sadly, since she got deported, it only makes it harder to get a visa. But I've been stashing away money here and there so hopefully I'll have enough to visit her this summer."

"That'll be fun. So. Should we head down to the court? I've got a few things I want to work on before practice," she says. I nod.

--

Sarah's Perspective

At the Gym Before Practice

Instead of keeping to separate sides of the gym, Marcela and I work on drills together. "God, I need to get a signature move," I say.

"A signature move?" she asks.

"Yeah, you know. A move people know me by. Micheal Jordan had two signature moves. The fadeaway jump shot and the free throw dunk that created the Air Jordan trademark," I say. "I need my own signature move. I already know what I'm going to call it."

"And what's that?" she asks.

"Splitting wood." I look up at her seeing if she gets it. She doesn't look amused. "You know because my last name is Wood and I would be splitting the defense or something."

"Yeah, I get it," she says rather flatly.

"What? You don't think that's clever?" I ask.

"It's neat. Sure, but the move isn't defined by its name. You're getting ahead of yourself," she says.

"Fair enough," I say. "Want to play a game of 1 on1?"

"Sure... But if I win you have to do my cleaning duty," she says.

"Deal. If I win, you have to buy me lunch," I say, wishing it could be a date, but knowing that probably wouldn't fly.

"Woah. That's not fair. It'll take you 15 minutes to do my cleaning duty, lunch will cost me $15 at least," she says, folding her arms.

"Fine, the loser does the winner's cleaning duty. Have fun washing the bathroom again," I say, knowing it's my week to clean the disgusting bathroom.

She just smirks. "You're going to be cleaning the fridge."

"Shoot for ball," I say, passing her the ball. She tosses up a brick and I grab the rebound. "Good thing you're the point guard."

She gives me an angry smirk. I just smile and wink at her as I make my way up to the top of the key. Once I check it in, I jab to the left before driving to the right only stopping to crossover, and just as she's able to change her momentum, dribble it behind the back and as she changes her momentum I cross her over again and rush past her. She nearly stumbles as she tries to guard me. I get the easy layup. As I get to the top of the key, I just smile and wink. "Just splitting wood."

"That's going to be your signature move?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Worked on you, didn't it?" I smirk.

"Fair enough, you're up 1," she says unamused, giving me the ball. After I check it, I pump fake, and drive it to the same side I faked last possession. She's late to respond. I dribble it through the legs as I switch directions while Marcela's momentum has her skidding forward. I sneak past her and up for another easy layup.

"2 nothing," I smile, checking the ball. I've seen that look so many times on Marcela's face. That crinkled nose, the narrow sloping eyebrows, and the way her temples flare-up. She's pissed. God, I live for this moment. I can't even explain it. Seeing her so flustered makes me so hot. Feels like a fire's been lit inside me and all I can think about is kissing her.

I go up for the pump fake and she smacks the ball out of my hands. That's what I get for losing myself in the feelings she brings to the surface inside me... She gets the ball and tries to drive it on me, but I square up. She crosses me over but can't shake me. Then she does another crossover and I was not expecting that. She gets the layup as she slips by me. Lucky...

She'd never be able to beat me if I wasn't always preoccupied with thoughts of kissing her. She gets the ball back and pump fakes then drives it. She goes to cross me over before doing an in and out dribble right as she pulls up and drains it.

"All tied up." She's got that innocent-looking smile that just makes me simmer in so many emotions. She checks it in. As I pass the ball back, I get all up in her face. She smiles as she pivots her back to me. A dirty idea crosses my mind as a smile folds on my lips. I slap her butt and she goes rigid as a gasp escapes her mouth. I manage to smack the ball loose and get it. There's a tinge of scarlet on her cheeks. "That was a cheap trick. Way to play dirty."

"You should know by now I'm going to do whatever it takes to win," I smile, trying to hide the heat my heart is giving off. I touched her butt. I know I shouldn't have, but teammates slap each other's butts all the time. God, I need to get my head out of the gutter. I pivot to one side than to the other, before trying to drive by her as I subtly push off of her. No ref will ever call that.

I battle her to the paint, before stopping on a dime and spinning to put up a hook shot. I bank it off the backboard and in. I shoot her a grin. "What were you saying about it being all tied up?"

She grinds her teeth as she glares at me, sending streaks of heat through my veins. "Don't get too comfortable being ahead."

God, what I would give to just have one kiss. Just one peck on the lips from her. I bite my lip just thinking of it. I barely catch the ball as she chucks it at me. If only she realized the effect she has on me.

After I check the ball in, she gets down to business, not giving me an inch. The way she has her hand on my hip overwhelms me with a burning throughout my entire body. I twist off of her and drive it down the right lane before stopping to cross over. As she tries to change her direction, I dribble it behind my back before crossing her over again and continue my way down the left side to the basket and put up a layup.

"Splitting wood," I smile as I jog back to the top of the key.

"You are so lame," she says, passing me the ball.

"If I'm so lame, why am I winning?"

Her eyes become narrow slits as she gets on top of me. Her hot steamy breath tickles my skin. God, I don't know how much more of this I can take. I pivot and dash to the left of her before spinning back to the right. As she overcompensates to get in front of me, I dribble it between my legs and step back. My eyes meet hers. That look of utter shock as I pull up is so priceless. Of course, I can only imagine the look on my face as I brick the shot. She gets the rebound and takes it back.

She takes it to the lane as I D up. She goes to cross me over but does an in and out as she sidesteps me, barely sneaking by me for the layup. She's got great ball-handling skills, I'll give her that. She's just so good with her hands. I smile at the thought of what those hands could do. I shudder as I check the ball back to her. I get really close to her, placing my hand on her hip. Our faces are only inches away. Our eyes meet and I could stare into those dark eyes full of sparkling lights for the rest of my life. She leans in.

"Are you two going to make out yet?" Cat asks. We both freeze as we look up at her and Kennedy sitting on the sidelines, stretching. We both backup from each other. God, how I wish I could just kiss her.

"Don't stop on our account," Kennedy says.

"We were just finishing anyway," Marcela says as she steps away.

"We were?" I ask.

"Yeah, we should get ready for practice," she says, walking away. No fair. I was going to win. Is it because of the gay remark?

"We're definitely finishing this later," I say.

Marcela's Perspective

I can't believe I wanted to kiss her. Why? Was it the look in her eye? God, those eyes. It's so easy to get caught in them. It's like staring off into the ocean. God, I need to get my head on straight.

As everyone else trickles into the gym, both Head Coach Clayton and Assistant Coach Riddle call everyone in and practice gets started. Melina Riddle is just as I remember her when I first watched her play 2 years ago. A full head of curly dirty blonde hair. Those dark brown eyes, that confident smile. She had such a presence on the basketball court. Someone to be feared. Every time she took the floor, she commanded respect.

"I'd like to welcome back Assistant Coach Melina Riddle," Coach Clayton says. "Do you have any words, coach Riddle."

"It's good to be back. I can't wait to get back to work with you all. There's a lot to do before the season starts. I expect you all to work hard and let's get at it," she says.

"You heard her, let's get practice started," Coach Clayton says.

"Oh my god," a gasp escapes my lips as I approach Melina. "Coach Melina, I've watched all of your games and I know we didn't get a chance to talk when I stated my intentions to walk on, but it's an honor to meet you!"

"Oh, here we go again," Cat sighs and the rest of the team breaks into laughter.

"Ahh, yes. Marcela, right? Heard a lot about you," she says shaking my hand. "Looking forward to seeing what you've got."

"I won't let you down, coach," I say.

"Alright, ladies. Let's get warmed up," Coach Clayton says.

"Way to be subtle," Usha laughs as she walks by.

After we warm up with layups and passing drills, we break off into groups and work on our individual positions. Coach Melina takes the guards while coach Clayton takes the post positions.

"Okay, let's work on some drills," Riddle says. "Everyone grab two balls and get with your sib."

Kennedy and I grab two balls and line up together. "For this drill, you will work across from each other and you will work on crossovers, hand-eye coordination, and passing. It's quite simple, you have a ball in each hand along with your partner and you'll stand across from each other. You'll pass the ball in your right hand to your partner, crossover with the ball in your left hand so you can catch the ball your partner passes to you. Start out slow and pick up the pass as you catch on. Any questions?"

After no one responds, coach nods. "Then begin."

"Alright, Dandi. Let's show them how it's done," Kennedy says.

"Yeah right. Bring it on," Cat says. "Peaches, no mistakes. Let's beat them."

Kennedy laughs. "You hear that, Dandi? They think they can beat us. Show how wrong they are."

"We got this," I say, throwing Sarah a smirk.

"Yeah, right. Bring it on, Daandi..." She gives me that infuriating smile.

Kennedy and I start out slow as I work to juggle it all. It's hard at first, but once I get a rhythm down, it's quite easy. Kennedy picks up the pace and so does Cat and Sarah. Sarah and I are both hard-pressed to keep up.

A ball gets knocked loose. "Come on Danielle, we've got to pick up the pace," Usha.

"You can't blame this on me, this is your fault," Danielle cries out as they start up again.

Kennedy and I are still going strong along with Cat and Sarah along with Solette and Maly. Same with Vertasha and Salenna.

"Switch directions," Coach yells out. Malynna fumbles and so does Danielle again.

Sarah and I are still going strong. Kennedy and Cat continue to push us faster. "Switch!" Melina shouts out. Vertasha drops it and they have to start over.

Sarah and I glance at each other. "Switch!"

The ball smacks against my foot and bounces. Sarah smirks, but then she messes up too. "Ha, we win!" Cat says.

"Barely, she dropped it only seconds after Dandi did," Kennedy wines.

"Seconds, minutes, hours, a win is a win," Cat says and Sarah just winks at me and it makes my blood boil.