If you walked into the gym right with your eyes closed it would sound and feel like there are multiple giants just stomping through the court. It actually felt like the floor was about to break at some points.

The boys' varsity basketball team was practicing for their first game after the break. It is Restwood High versus East Restwood High School. So High School Musical.

"Come on boys! I don't want a bunch of wannabes at the game tomorrow!" Coach yelled down their necks. He was waking them up by clapping loudly in their ears and jogging around them as encouragement. The guys were doing their passing drills and you could see the fear in their eyes as they passed the ball to their partner. I don't know if it was about the game or about what Coach would say if they dropped the ball.

"Avery, pick up the pace! Oluwaseun, fix the form! Come on boys! The game is tomorrow!"

There was a bit of confusion as they took in Coach's words, but the flow resumed with the corrections.

"I bet you five bucks that someone drops it in the next minute." Joshua said. He was stretched across one of the bleachers, not interested in the practice. I was trying to do some work while Dani was on her phone. The only reason we were stuck here was because Greyson was our ride.

I looked up from my papers and looked at the clock. "It is 4:23."

"Alright," Dani said, joining the group.

Everyone sat up on the bleachers and watched the guys with more interest. Each dribble intensified now as we put all the marbles on it. There were many close calls, but no one actually slipped. Coach was still walking around, correcting the guys on this or that. There was still the fear in them, but they were doing everything to a T.

Ten... Nine... Eight...

The guys were passing the ball to their partner perfectly.

Seven... Six... Five...

I could smell the cash coming our way.

Four... Three... Two...

"GREYSON!"

Coach, who was on one side of the court, yelled this to Greyson, who was on the other side of the court. Greyson, who heard his name being bellowed, lost all his focus from the drill and redirected it towards Coach. The guy who was his partner, who didn't realize that Greyson wasn't paying attention, threw the ball towards Greyson. It missed his outstretched hands, hit his chest, and fell to the floor with a dramatic blow.

"Yes, sir?"

Coach looked at the fallen ball with amused shock and said, "I guess that will be 50 sprints Captain."

"Wait- What?" he said in confusion.

His eyes flew all over the court, from the ceiling to the base of the hoop. Finally, they fell to his feet where the ball sat patiently. The realization slowly dawned. His smile was slowly turning into that smile that looked happy but really is disappointed. His head hung so sadly. He rubbed his face as he still looked at the ball.

Joshua, on the other hand, could not be happier at Greyson's downfall. The wicked grin had infested his face. He held a hand out towards me and Dani, waiting for the weight of greed to fill it.

"I will take my winnings, ladies," he said.

Dani and I shared our disappointment with Greyson. Well, Dani more than me. When two crisp five-dollar bills slithered into Joshua's hands Dani yelled "Great job, Greyson!" in her first and fluent language, sarcasm. 

Greyson turned around and found Dani among the thin crowd on the bleachers. His confusion plunged deeper into the rabbit hole.

"For what?" he asked defensively.

"How about being so bad at basketball!" she said straight up.

His confusion was replaced by shock.

"Wha- You think that you could do better?" He switched from defense to offence real quick. He even put one of his hands on his hip which gave the who vibe a perfect finish. 

"Yeah, I could," she said, accepting the hidden challenge.

The entire place was watching the conversation of these two. The guys on the floor were anticipating this match, all of them were all kind of grouped together thinking about what was going to happen. The bored people of the bleachers were excited to see some good action happen. Coach, who looked weirdly proud, was smiling and shaking his head at the antics of these two. 

Dani got up, took off extra accessories, and walked onto the court. The guys on the floor got to the sidelines and were acting like a bunch of hooligans. Dani met Greyson and Coach in the middle of the court, both of them were psyching themselves up for the impromptu match. With Coach in the middle of these two, the ball in his hand, he said "First to one-point wins-"

"Loser does 50 sprints," Dani finished off. Greyson agreed with a firm nod of his head.

"Alright. First to a point wins, loser does 50 sprints." Coach threw the ball into the air and the game began. Greyson, having a good vertical jump, got the ball first. Greyson goes more for the strategic and straightforward route while Dani goes for the more performance masterpiece. He immediately goes for the net. He booked it, running to the left side of the court. We all know that he is just going to sink it into the net to prove some point, but it failed. Dani, knowing every step in his plan, was easily able to get the ball. Right when the ball was in midair, she was able to sink in from the left and steal it.

Once the ball was in her hand, she immediately ran for it. The guys on the sidelines were all cheering for Dani. Everyone on the bleachers were all following her with their eyes and the cheering intensified. Joshua cupped his hand around his mouth and said, "Come on, Dani!" over all the whistling and clapping.

She got to the 3-point line and was about to pull one off for the sake of the show, but Greyson quickly got in front of her to defend. He was doing the weird dance to defend the net; you know, the one where you transform into an agile crab and your hands become broken clock hands. But however goofy this looks it works. She can't get a good angle. Plan B, her mind says.

She tricks him quickly. Left, right, right, left, left, right, right, right. He couldn't tell which way she was going to go. This is where the performance strategy kind of has an advantage. With these types of players, you never know what they will do next. Once she confused him on where she was going to go, she actually went left. She went around him and dunked the ball as the big finale. She hung onto the hoop and did a pullup as a final bow.

Everyone completely forgot their dignity (like they had any). When the game ended Greyson squatted at the spot of his defeat. The entire team crowded around him, yelling their heads off in celebration and literally frog hopping over him. Dani had walked over to the bleachers where she was welcomed in cheering. Before she could even make a move for her water bottle Joshua picked her up and spun her around.

"Joshua, put me down!" she said very happily.  He had put her down after a second but the blush on his face was still up.

"I guess that will be 100 sprints, Captain," Coach said to Greyson after the team dispersed.

"Yes, sir." he said flatly.

Dani smiled toward the Coach and said, "Go easy on him Coach."

Coach returned the smile to her and asked "Why?"

"Because I want a win tomorrow. I mean he did lose to a volleyball player, but I still want a win."

Greyson looked so thankful towards Dani. Now the rest is in Coach's hand. Coach took in her words carefully and said, "You are right." He turned to Greyson, who looked hopeful, and said "Make that 110 sprints, Captain."

His relieved face went back to hilarious disappointment.

"Yes, sir," he said with a glance of friendly hatred towards Dani.

...

Remember when I said at the practice that if you closed your eyes that it would sound like there are giants stomping through the court? Well now imagine that time two. It was game day and tensions were high. East Restwood High is here, and we finally get to see the goldies after a while; the reason they are called goldies because gold is one of their school colors and because 82% of the student body have bright blonde hair.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Restwood High versus East Restwood High boys' varsity basketball game! Wow that is a mouth full! I actually practiced it last night in front of my mirror. All about the pronunciation, folks! My wife actually thought I was crazy. Anyway, I am Principal Butler, and I am very excited to have you all here. Let me remind you that the concession stand is selling food that goes back into our athletic department. The restroom is located in the back of the gym. The game will begin shortly."

The entire place was excited. The bleachers felt like it was going to snap under all the pressure. There are so many people stomping in anticipation, and many are running up and down to go get something or get in their seats. The bleachers were booked on both sides and the floor is packed. Cheerleaders doing the chants and hyping the crowd, there teachers, volunteers, our mascots, and little kids are all over the place. The goldies and their supporters are directly in front of us, showcasing their pride in forms of face paint, flags, spirit shirts and a lot of noise makers. It is the same thing on our side but instead of gold and blue we were white and blue.

"Daisy!" Dani yelled over all the noise.

"What?" I yelled back.

She handed me my soda and gummies.

"Thank you!" I said as I took my stuff.

She sat next on the other side of Joshua and looked around.

"How much do you want to bet that we make the first point?" Joshua asked us.

"NO!" Dani and I yelled into his ear.

It has sort of become an unspoken rule in our school that no one, no matter what status or clique, bets any amount of money on any game, not even a penny. We always seem to lose when that happens. Last time it happened a senior and his best friend bet a crisp hundred that we would win the championship. Let's just say that they were very, very lucky that they were graduating soon.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Butler said on the mic, "I give you the Restwood High boys varsity team! I give you Tyson, Garcia, Oluwaseun, Perez, Ali, Sanchez, Jones, Cotton, Yang, Avery, Michael, and Rossi!"

All the boys ran onto the floor with a new wave of cheering. The mascot joined in and was jumping with them.

When the cheering kind of died Butler went back to the mic and said "Now please put your hands together for the East boys' varsity team! I give you Johnson, Dakota, Lee, Miller, Smith, Jackson, Taylor, Lewis, Martinez, Sawadogo, Solomon, and Torres!"

The guys on the other team came out with their fans applauding them. They stood, facing their school, admiring the love.

One the fame got to all their heads and satisfied them they had a little recon with the coaches. They huddled around and discussed last minute strategies. The crowd was settling down, returning to their seats. The groups on the floor finally broke and the players were walking onto the court.

The captains met at half court. The referee, who was ironically the principal of the goldies, moved his precious locks out of his eyes and met the boys too, similar to how Coach did not too long ago for a little game.

The captains shook hands and positioned themselves. The ref threw the ball in the air and the game commenced.

It was East who got the ball first. You could see the delight in them at this triumph. No worries. There is absolutely no problem with this.

"Torres to Smith, Smith to Johnson, Johnson to Jackson. Boy it is hard to follow the ball right now! It seems as though the East boys are using speed to their advantage!"

What Butler said was right. The ball looked like an extremely hyper dog running from one player to the next. Even our boys were having a hard time following the ball.

"And Jackson goes for the net. Cotton tried to steal but a subtle crossover stopped him dead!"

Coach, who earned his bachelors in Drama from Dani, is crumpling his uniform as he runs down the court. He is yelling at the guys to do something to save themselves. I am not sure this tactic is working though. With the noise of the court and the adrenaline rush pounding in their ears Coach's words would be drowned.

"Jackson throws the ball to Smith. Smith runs for the ball! And he shoots and he-" the whistle sounded. We all saw the ref and where Smith's foot landed. "Out of bounds! A free throw is awarded to Restwood High!" The goldies all were in rage. The guy, Smith, was receiving secret looks of hate from his teammates. He shook it off though and the guys lined up for the free throw. Cotton is the one who takes the honor for it. All the guys are watching Cotton intensely as he throws it. He makes it! The place lost it!  Everyone on our turf was already acting like we won the game. He smiled and signaled to the ref to hand him the ball. He got it and dribbled it two times before shooting it. He misses and is met with saddened fans. 

"And we go back to our regularly scheduled program. Apparently confident after this mini break Smith grabs the ball and books it! He is running towards the net! And - OH COME ON TYSON! THIS IS NO TIME FOR SHOW AND TELL"

The place kind of went quiet after this little outburst. Tyson was doing something really fancy to try and trick Smith but it failed. As for Butler he always gets like this. I am pretty sure that one out of every twelves schools have this type of principal. We all stared at Butler after his little tantrum. It was even funnier because the boys were so confused and shocked, and the ref had his whistle hanging loosely from his mouth. But I mean he does this every time so...

"So sorry for that ladies and gents. Got carried away," he looked a lot like Will Ferrell at that moment. The boys resumed the game. The crowd tried to get the cheer back in the air but it was so awkward.

"Anyway, Smith runs for the net. The ball has left his hand. He shoots, he - misses! Another free throw is awarded to Restwood High! Wow, this is a lucky day folks!" He said this more to our side which raised a few crazy people in the goldies.

Greyson decides to take it this time. He takes the ball and throws it, no hesitation. He makes it and immediately the hustle for the ball is back.

"Dakota takes the ball! It is kind of a back and forth today folks! Us to you then from you to us! Anyway, Dakota immediately passes the ball to his captain. Torres runs but Ali is immediately on the defense. Torres passes the ball to Jackson who passes it to Johnson! Johnson went for the dunk and slammed in it there!"

Johnson let go of the net and received a pat on the back from Torres. Greyson was talking to the team through mean looks. He wiped his forehead with his shirt and told the ref to give him the ball. He stepped out of bounds and threw it to Tyson.

"And it is Tyson for the ball! Standing at the three point line he goes for the- never mind! A subtle pass to his teammate Ali takes the ball and goes for the net. He's going, he's going, he makes it! Proud of you son! Ref regains control of the ball and hands it to Jackson who throws it to Smith. Smith throws it to Dakota. Dakota has a glint in his eye! He is running! Wait-" Dakota was doing something no one would dare to do in this court. "Dakota is at the half court line! He is at the half court line! His eyes are dead locked on the net! The ball is in the air. The ball is in the air! It is going... It is going.... it is going to -"

The buzzer rang for the first quarter. Everyone kind of got spooked from the siren. The boys froze on the floor and the ball and net made the infamous noise that rang in the dead silence. The ref ran onto the floor like there was a fight happening. Everyone kind of got the hint that the first quarter was up.

"Ah ladies and gentleman, that was, unfortunately,  the buzzer. Better luck next time Dakota. Anyway we will be right back!"

Some guy in a black t-shirt came running into the gym, clutching a piece of pink construction paper. He whispered something to Butler then stood to the side.

"Uhh.. to the person who drives a grey Camry, license plate number SPC1983 - Ha! My birth year! - I mean not my birth year- uh sorry. Your car is in the toll zone. Kindly remove it please. As well, I would like to remind parents and Alumni that this is not the 90's - if you know what I mean. I would advise you to remove it off the premises." There was a guy who was trying to hide the glint of silver up his sleeve.

The person, who was from the East, got up and ran out. Immediately an emergency hit me too. I got up and ran down the bleachers.

"Where are you going?" Joshua asked me.

"Bathroom," I said.

I got to the floor and was heading towards the back. But once I saw the crowd I turned around and ran out of the gym. I ran past the guys who were standing by the benches drinking Gatorade and water. Greyson has grabbed onto me and swung me around, trying to give me a kiss. I noticed all the cheerleaders and players look at me. I moved his hands away and ran towards the door. 

"Daisy! Wait!" Greyson said, looking at me. 

"Bathroom!" I shouted to him as I slammed myself against the door. As I got to the other side of the door, I saw Greyson aggressively push one of the guys and give a dirty look towards one of the cheerleaders. Coach gave Greyson a look which made Greyson calm down a bit. 

I ran down the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. As the noise from the gym faded, I slowed down. I looked around the empty and oddly quiet hallway. This place is usually like a zoo in the afternoon. I looked around and realized that the nearest bathroom was around the corner. I walked as fast as I could without peeing myself. I regret chugging that soda now.

As I passed by the teacher's bathroom, I suddenly had this weird feeling in my gut. This feeling was also in the air. It was so sudden yet so heavy. I felt grossed out for some reason. I completely stopped and looked at the door.

There are a lot of reasons why schools have heavy doors. It was mainly for safety reasons but there are minor benefits to this as well. One of these is that they cancel noise from the other side of the door. But that doesn't mean it completely blocks out the noise. You know the pleasure you get when you walk by a classroom where you can hear the teacher yelling from the other side. 

But it wasn't a teacher yelling this time. Especially in the bathroom. There was ridiculous giggling and very rough language going on that you could only hear if the hallway was this quiet. The thin shadows were seen dancing through the crack on the floor. Even though I shouldn't, and that I would probably regret it, my curiosity got the best of me.

Almost forgetting that I needed to use the bathroom I opened the door, which was surprisingly unlocked.

Inside was Chelsea and Grease, with Grease holding Chelsea up against the wall. They weren't doing anything serious (yet) but were just making out. I am pretty sure that things would escalate soon.

Chelsea screamed so softly. Grease had to cover her mouth with his hand to shut her up. The mortified look in her eyes plainly told me that she did not want me there at the moment. She was trying to get his hands off of her but he would not budge. I knew he wouldn't. He turned his head around to see me and for the first time actually looked so happy at my entrance.

Resting his head on her chest lightly he said "Told you we should have been quieter. Now we have guests." The smell escaped from his mouth and was all over the place real quick. I looked around and saw it on the sink. A big liter bottle which had "water" in it. Deceptive. Surprised no one checked what it was. It was a little under 2/3 empty. I could tell from the way he was that he was more than out of it. He was in another world.

I didn't want to put myself in the problem any more so I just closed the door and left. I would just pretend I didn't see anything and never speak of it again. It isn't rare to catch someone doing something in our school. That is every public school in big cities. If you can't fight it, leave it.

I went to the bathroom and finished my business. I was washing my hands, looking at the rush tap water. I was thinking about Grease and his "water". Nobody I know goes that far to mess themselves up; yeah Joshua takes something every now and then, and Dad did come home completely wasted that one night, but from the rumors I have heard, and witnessed, nobody is like Grease. He doesn't belong here. He belongs in a place where things are violent and loud and dirty. His life isn't here. And I more than anyone wish it was anywhere but here.

I dried my hands and was heading back. As I left the bathroom the door to the funhouse opened. They stood at the door having a whispered conversation. Chelsea was fixing her skirt and had a tense look on her face. They talked for a second before Chelsea nodded her head and left. Grease kept his watch on her until she was no longer in sight. He shook his head and leaned against the door frame.

Even though there was no place to hide I tried walking past Grease unnoticed. I really did not want to have a conversation with this person, especially right after what I just witnessed. Somehow this tactic was working. I guess he put something extra special in his bottle.

Right when I thought I was scot-free I was jerked backwards. Grease has put one of his hands over my mouth and one across my waist - think of it as a person kidnapping someone. He was pulling me into the restroom. I was struggling. I was flailing my arms and legs around, trying to leave his grip. It was futile though. He was much stronger than me. He could easily carry me with one finger.

He pushed me against the wall and locked the door behind him. The snap was loud and ringing around the space. He learned from his mistake.

He turned around and looked at me with such pity and annoyance that it made me feel hurt. What did I do that made him hate me so much? Grease and I have a long history. It started with me telling him off for drinking for the first time. It was at the end of 10th grade, and during that time we were okay-ish friends. He was very humiliated and hurt from it. Ever since then Grease has changed so much. He was not my sweet friend Gilbert from history class.

He snatched his bottle and drank the rest. It took him a while. I could see every sip go through his throat down into his stomach. His stance became more sluggish. I stood in the corner, crying. I don't know why I am crying though. All that I can seem to remember right now is that whenever he was bored in class, he would be chewing a straw he took from breakfast and lean back in his chair. His hair would be all over his eyes so carelessly that it looked handsome, and his eyes looked so lively that school would never be able to entertain them. He was lean and skinny but attractive.  Then I remembered him walking through the doors on the first day of 11 grades, ignoring me completely, his entire presence feeling completely different than the last time I saw him. I have never been hurt like that before.

He kept on drinking more and more, occasionally taking a gasp of fresh air. He threw the bottle away and sat on the toilet. He rested his head against the wall and was starting to cry too. Even with our history, from the fun days in class to the long fight that is still ongoing, I couldn't help but feel worried for him.

I took one step towards him and when he did not retaliate, I kneeled next to him. He looked worse than I had expected. His temperature was skyrocketing, his eyes were rolling to the back of his head, and he was breathing so heavily. I only had a second's notice before he threw up. I looked at the pile to see a very disgusting murky brown. He was doing so many things right now it was uncontrollable.

I grabbed some wet tissues and pressed them against his forehead. He looked at me, so confused, but I kept on doing what I was doing.

"You know," he said abruptly and the smell made me feel out of it. "My folks are crazy. They like hoods. They are wild. Really lived it up back then. Fights and parties, clubs and God knows what. They actually fell in love- well not love, more like passionate about each other - after the Big Bop." He threw his head up again and laughed at this very serious situation. "They still wild. They get drunk and whatnot. My old man still gets into knife fights and my mom still goes to parties and sleeps with whoever she can."

He never explained his situation at home. He always would get into fights and go to parties all the time too. But he always kept his mouth shut. It sure was a gallant thing to do, but I don't know who he was doing it for. 

"They expect me to handle tough love and find it fun like they did, but I am not that person. I just ain't. I don't think I could."

I was looking at him like I did a long time ago. Usually I would have a face of hatred or annoyance on, but right now it was so empathetic and scared. What is going on in his life?

"Don't give me those eyes! Don't give me your pity and all that nonsense."

He looked at me. I had some sort of gut feeling that I was among the few people who cry. Nobody did. Most people thought he couldn't do it. I don't think he couldn't; I think he forgot how to.

I pushed the hair out of eyes, trying to keep him up. His eyes were fluttering between opening and closing, so close to passing out. I could see his shirt slightly moving from how hard his heart is beating. 

"Gilbert-"

SMACK!

I fell to the floor very hard. My wrist felt like it was cracked. I am just lucky I didn't crack my head. I did feel very dizzy though. It felt too familiar.

He stood over me with his blazing hatred again. For a second I felt like 5 year old me. He grabbed my arms and pulled me up very roughly. His fingers were digging into my forearms. It was so hard that it started to feel numb. But it was nothing compared to his stare. It was like he was ready to kill me. He could if he had something. His bottle was plastic and smashing me against the wall would be no fun for him. It was making my legs shake and made my stomach empty of any food I had a couple milliseconds ago. But beyond the intense gaze I could see the hurt person. It was so painful. So, lost...

Before I could gather any more thoughts, he kissed me. At this point I was frozen with shock.

I guess he was shocked too because he pulled away. I remember there being a hungry look in his eyes.

He went back at it and pushed me against the wall. It was so forceful that it felt like my back snapped. He kept on kissing me, keeping me firm against the wall, and crying at the same time. His hands were traveling up and down my sides. He placed his hands at the collar of my shirt and teared it open. The ripping of the shirt echoed throughout the small space. My only barrier was gone. His hands found my cold, bare torso and kept it warm. I could feel his breath tickle my body. He slowly worked his way down to my neck. His breathing intensified as he did.

All of a sudden, I broke out into a cold sweat. My face, palms, chest, underarms, everything was sweating. I was crying. So was he. I could feel the splashes of both of our tears on my stomach. All of a sudden, I felt hot. Like that heat that annoys you. Add the annoying heat and his warm hands I would have been well done steak. 

His hands were traveling up my back. As he did, I could feel his fingertips graze all of my burn marks. Suddenly a sharp pain hit me in my side. His finger had rested on slim love handles. And right there was the mark that bled recently. I felt the warm ooze drip down my side again. This is what really brought me back to reality.

I was here? And so was Grease? And we were in the same room? Why is my shirt open? His- His hands are on me? Why is he kissing me? Why is he on me? What is he doing?

I pushed him away so suddenly. I rushed over to the door and fumbled with the lock. I was so fuzzed up. I looked behind me to see if he was following me. He wasn't. The door was wide open, and it was quiet there. I kept on walking on towards the gym. Everything when messed up again. When I walked into the gym, I couldn't register anything.

There were a bunch of people here. But they were moving so slow. Like someone forgot to take the movie off of slow-mo. They were cheering and yelling, but in the distance, there was a group of people looking disappointed. I was walking around, trying to find someone I recognized. I figured they would be in the big group of screaming people. I walked towards the middle, trying to find a familiar face. Why are these people celebrating? What is going on?

Finally, I found someone. Greyson was in the middle of the group. People were smacking his back and all around him they were screaming. I pushed my way through the group trying to reach him. It was easier than I thought. It was almost like the people knew I needed to talk to him. They were clearing the path towards him. They suddenly stopped cheering.

I finally got to him. He was not facing me though. I took my pointer finger and tapped once on his shoulder. It was quieter than ever. He turned around, looking so happy. His sweaty hair was dangling in front of his eyes. Then when he faced me he lost that look. It was replaced with something that was not happy. He was trying to cover me. Why? I don't seem to remember.

"What happened?" he asked me in my ear.

I looked at him so blankly. Why is he so handsome? How can he stand it? It is like he was carved to perfection by Michaelangelo. 

"Daisy?"

"Hmm?

"What happened?"

I realized that he was asking me a question. I didn't but did have an answer at the same time. Before I talked through my mouth did a weird thing. It stretched bizarrely across my face. It hurt so bad, but it felt like it was okay to do. Like my conscience was telling me to.

"Grease."

Then I fell.

...

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