Page 20 of Broken Butterfly
Janice smiles and nods, not saying anything more. She pats my hand and thanks me for talking with the residents. She tells me they enjoyed spending time with me, then walks back inside leaving me alone to watch Fallon and the younger boys.
“There she is,” Fallon calls out. “Get over here, kitten.”
I hear one of the boys ask, “Her name is kitten? What a stupid name.”
“Hey, little dude. No disrespecting my woman. Got it?” My approaching steps falter when I hear him say that.
The young boy looks down at the ground. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I swear.”
“I know you didn’t. Always remember though, words can hurt as much as punches.” Fallon claps the boy on the shoulder with gentle encouragement.
I make my way over to their group. There are five of them including Fallon, and the boys look to be around the ages of ten to fifteen.
“Hey guys,” I cheerfully say.
“Kitten here can be our sixth man. What do you say? A little three on three?”
“But she’s a girl,” the boy with the gap teeth and curly black hair says. “They don’t know how to play basketball.”
“Oh, we don’t, do we?” I grin and take the ball from Fallon. Old Elizabeth was never athletic, but New Elizabeth sure as hell is. I shot a lot of hoops at the rehab facility I was at in Seattle, mostly when I was bored, but it helped with my strength training and flexibility.
I take off my winter coat and gloves and lay them on the ground. I dribble the ball a few times, then pivot and shoot it in a high arc. It swishes through the net with ease. The boys start whooping and cheering. Fallon just does his little head cock at me.
“Nice,” he says.
“She’s on my team,” the gap-toothed boy tells everyone. I learn his name is Devon. He adds Trevaughn to round out our team of three. Fallon’s team includes a cute blond boy named Butch with thick, round black glasses, and Seamus, an older, taller mocha-skinned boy with green eyes like mine. We decide the first team that gets to ten points wins.
My team wins the coin toss and has possession of the ball. Fallon towers over all of us at slightly over six feet tall. He steals the ball from Devon and passes it to Seamus who does a lay-up for an easy two points.
My team scores the next four points thanks to some awesome footwork and ball passing between Devon and Trevaughn. Fallon then shoots a three-pointer. His team is up five-to-four. Devon fouls Butch allowing him two free throws. He misses one but gets the other. My team is now down six-to-four.
Devon runs in front of Seamus to steal the pass from Fallon. Devon passes it to me, but Fallon blocks my way. I fake and pivot and land a three-pointer off the backboard. That gets me high fives from my teammates because we’re up seven-to-six. I wipe my brow with the sleeve of my sweater because I’m sweaty and hot, despite the cold outdoor temperature. I glance over to Fallon who’s huddled with his team. He looks up, sees me looking at him, and gives me a wink.
“Okay, boys. It’s time to show them who’s the best,” he says.
“I’m sorry. Are you talking about us? Thanks for the compliment!” I yell back.
Fallon bounce-passes the ball to Butch who performs a perfect jump shot for two more points.
“Dammit,” Trevaughn says.
“Hey, teamie, we’ve got this,” I reply, and we fist bump.
I hand the ball to Trevaughn. He does a between-the-legs dribble then passes it backward to me. I’m at the three-point line. If I make this shot, my team wins. I grip the ball and plant my feet ready to let the ball fly when I feel hands come down on my hips, pulling me backward. I stumble and begin to fall over to the side, but Fallon moves one of his hands from my hips to my back, so we end up in a dancer’s closed position.
“I call foul.” I laugh up at him.
“I call fair play,” he says, hovering above me. I grip his shoulders. He pulls me in.
“Fallon.”
“Yes, kitten.”
“Kiss her already so we can finish the game,” Devon shouts. My cheeks blush scarlet.
I swear, if Fallon wasn’t holding me, I would have melted straight into the tarmac when his lips get mere inches from mine. I’m looking up at him with big, wide eyes and he’s looking down at me with a shit-eating grin. Coming to my senses, I smack his shoulder and he pulls me back up to stand, leaving me more breathless than I already was from running up and down the basketball court. Fallon hands me the basketball, pushing me toward the free throw line.
“You called foul, right?”
