It was a sunny afternoon, the kind where it was so hot that their skin stuck to the varsity shirts from the sweat. David Rhenford and his team were playing a friendly basketball game against some boys from another school.

No audiences would cheer when they scored and jeer when they missed one. No parents were supporting them no matter how many points they lost and turnovers on their fault. And especially, no coaches yelling advice or screaming what they should've done after a misplay.

It was all for fun. David rode his bike with his best friend Joe after lunch to meet his team on their rendezvous. It was getting warmer, and the heat was getting too much to bear. But nobody wanted to be the first one to say they should go home. It was a matter of pride, and they were fifteen points ahead of their opponents.

David was really versatile on the court. He could do all the positions really well. He was a good power forward, a sharpshooter from the outside line, a fast and effective point guard, and could manage a very essential role of being the center—the rebound.

He had made a reputation in his school for being the all-time MVP of their basketball team. His trophies, medals, and certificates that he earned from different competitions—especially from basketball—seemed like a long time collection of an antique shop. They occupied a room inside their house which his younger sister later called, The David's Museum.

David had insisted to his mom that they didn't need to keep all these things because it would limit the space of their house. After all, many of them were already coated with rust, since he had been getting those trophies and medals starting in fifth grade. Part of the reason was that he didn't want any kids from his school to get knowledge about it. If anyone did, they might have spread rumors about him having a weird collection. He had tried to bring it up during one dinner, but his mom was still adamant. When he tried to look his dad's way, he just shrugged and went on to his plate.

Lenard Johnson, a power forward from the other team dribbled the ball from the backcourt. He was tall and had an amazing shape, but it didn't go quite useful for their team. He was slower than David had expected, and he got even slower after an hour of playing.

David was on an average height—strong, fast, and had a normal shape of a thirteen-year-old. Lenard passed the ball to a redhead boy which David thought was named Timmy. He was skinny and shorter than David by a few inches. He was about to do an overhead pass, but if it were not because of his eyes, David wouldn't have predicted his plan. He blocked the attempt and snatched the ball before he could react and ran to an easy layup.

David looked back and noticed that no one chased after him. Everybody stopped to watch as he shot the ball and landed smoothly. The ball bounced several times on the ground, making a thudding noise that echoed on an empty field before rolling on the floor. He picked it up and placed it between his side and his hand. The look on the faces of his fellow players suggested that they had enough. Some had even leaned on their knees just to catch their breath while others stood lazily.

"Not getting tired, are you?" his team captain John called out. His olive skin saturated with sweat and shone under the glare of sunlight.

"Are we done playing?" he yelled back as he ran a free hand to his wheat colored hair. His voice echoed before dying out of the thin air.

"You won already by fifteen points and the sun is about to cook us," one of their rivals announced. His shirt clung to his skin with a spreading map of perspiration. 

Looking above, David felt a tickling sensation of thin streams of liquid dripping from his face to his neck. His eyes couldn't bear a second longer against the blinding sunlight.

"Sixteen points when you counted his last layup," his best friend Joe corrected as they all moved to gather in the center circle.

"I was actually looking forward to twenty points over yours," David smirked.

"We never get a chance to beat you even in a practice game, and we don't have to do this all day, so we can get barbecued," the redhead boy said.

"And we still have plenty of times to play again," another player added.

"Plenty of sometimes for your team to get beaten again?" John teased back.

Leonard folded his arm and looked straight to John. "Yeah, I guess. But anything can happen during the game. You might as well be surprised if you get a surprise loss."

"Well that's the spirit," David pointed out like he was about to get something he had wished for a very long time.

"You think they can beat us?" Joe murmured to David when the other team was out of earshot.

David scrunched his forehead and thought for a moment. "I don't know, maybe?" He didn't have to brag about how good he was or his team because sure did, it was common knowledge between him and his best friend. "Of course we are good at this but this Lenard guy has a point. We can't still be sure what happens during the game. Like what if I got injured or something worse," he added.

Joe gave him a playful shove on his back. "Yeah right, but one thing is sure—"

"They will never beat us in a fair fight," David supplied.

They both ran to catch up with the others, smiling.

****

The sun was a few minutes away to sink under the horizon when David rode his bike on his way home. He parted ways with his friends after stopping by to a burger stall to eat and talk about their future basketball games. Joe told him that he couldn't ride home with him unless he wanted to accompany him on his part-time job at night.

The air whistled on him as the exhilarating view of shrubbery terrain came and went. Soon David crossed a white stone bridge, spanning a channel in a single broad arch. This bridge shared a fond memory of him and his dad. He remembered when he was younger, he often walked him from Alison park up to this place. Sometimes he let him throw pebbles and told him to make a wish because it could make anything you wish come true.

David smiled. He felt a little embarrassed, but it didn't make him feel stupid for doing that. Every child had an old tale.

The luscious park of Dobson came into view. It reminded him of Joe playing a passed ball with him on their grassy yard. They both had too much in common. He was his first buddy since he could remember. They messed things up together. He was a perfect partner in crime and an honest-to-goodness friend he ever had.

The humid smell of wet dirt and foliage filled his nostrils as he wheeled through the pavement with wild vegetation at either side. A memory popped up in his mind. It was the same smell of the place where his younger sister got soaked with mud after stumbling in a puddle. He would never forget that moment because that was the best laugh he had in a year. She could be annoying sometimes, but he loved her very much, and his mom made him promise he'd always look after her.

Wait, his mom? He had the most loving and caring mom in the world. The best mom ever! David slowed; it took a moment before he realized he was crying.

What was happening? Why did he suddenly miss them this badly? It felt like he was lost somewhere and couldn't figure out which direction would lead him home.

He had just played basketball with his friends for a good two hours, but it felt like years. He broke into sobs. His heart throbbed inside his chest, and he was filled with a sudden yearning to see his family and ensure their safety. He longed to see his bestfriend Joe, his team, classmates, and other friends he had on his neighborhood.

David doubled his effort to pedal even faster. He was a few blocks away from his house. He would see his family again, and Joe in the morning.

Suddenly the sky went completely dark, the thunder clapped, and the growling sound of an oncoming storm made David come to halt.

He felt his whole body floating, but he wasn't leaving the ground. Was he being carried? What was happening? Could he be dreaming? Had he been  knocked off from his bike?

The world dissolved before David. All the sensations ceased. No noise. No pain. No heat. No light. He just drifted away to nothingness.