Thursday. 5:26pm.
Garrett is early. Not unusual.
Gym is unlocked, but all the lights are off. Garrett knows where the switch is. Flips it on.
At 6pm, the team will come, but Garrett has more to lose. Flings his duffel bag to the bleachers. Unzips his jacket. Snaps on his headphones. Tugs his St. Sebastian chain for good luck. Scoops a ball from the rack. Toes up at the free throw line. Time for a routine. Bounce bounce. Grips. Squares up. Pumps arm. Flicks off. Swish. Retrieves the ball. Floor squeaks. Wipes his soles. Toes up at the three-point line. No routine. No time. Pumps arm. Flicks off. Swish.
Nice.
Garrett turns. Rodney at the baseline.
Thanks.
Rodney nods. Walks around. At 6pm, the team will come, but Rodney has more to gain.
Flings his duffel bag to the bleachers. Unzips his jacket. Turns off his phone. Slides out his AirPods. Strolls onto the court.
Garrett pulls off his headphones. Sets them down.
You’re here early, Rod.
Yeah, thought I’d try something new.
Is the Singer School of Success taking any applicants?
A laugh.
Wow.
Didn’t know there was a name for it.
Garrett Singer’s the better shooter. Rodney Astete’s the better defender. Garrett towers. Rodney darts.
You hear about the scouts?
Yeah.
They’re coming to see us.
The team.
No, us.
Rodney is right. Garrett pounds toward the basket. Leg up. Arm up. Swish. Easy. Rodney claps his ball. Toes up at the free throw line. Time for a routine. Bounce bounce bounce bounce. Squats. Grips. Aims. Pushes off. Swish.
Nice.
Rodney turns. So does Garrett. A man at the baseline. Rodney to Garrett. A look. A shrug.
Thanks.
The man nods. Walks forward. Drops his duffel bag by the home team’s bench. Lays his jacket over the back of a folding chair. At 6pm, the team will come, but the man has something to set up at the scorer’s table.
Rodney meets Garrett under the net.
Who’s the guy?
New equipment manager.
The man’s voice carries across the court. Body ducked beneath the table. Plugging cords. Flipping switches.
Rodney palms his ball.
Doesn’t a student usually do that?
I’m retired and bored.
A joke. Garrett laughs. Rodney shakes his head. Rolls his own ball off and taps his chest. A signal to Garrett. Pass the ball. He does. A one-on-one starts. Garrett’s arms. Garrett’s hands. Garrett everywhere. Rodney can’t see the net. But the backboard. A corner of the painted box. Sweet spot. Rodney darts under an elbow. Leg up. Arm up. Swish. Easy.
Rebound retrieved. Ball passed. Garrett’s now. Rodney’s chest. Rodney’s knees. Rodney everywhere. Tries to swipe the ball back into his possession. Garrett sees the net. Not a way to it. Backs up. Beyond three-point line. No routine. No time. Pumps arm. Flicks off. Swish. Easy. Rebound retrieved. Rodney’s now. Gym goes dark.
What?
Was that you, new guy?
Yes.
Okay, well, can you turn the lights back on?
The lights don’t turn on, but the scoreboard on the southern wall does.
Home versus Visitor. 0 to 0.
Wrong switch, buddy.
You need help?
Garrett jogs over to the scorer’s table. Equipment manager rises from his crouch. Points at the scoreboard. The projection screen beside it. The screen fills with blue light. Reflects on the floorboards. Garrett stops. Follows his point.
Did you mean to turn that on?
Yes.
Rodney stops dribbling.
Who’s the girl?
Pixels crystallize on the screen. Shape into a yearbook photo. A smiling girl. Braces. Nose piercing. Blocky eyebrows.
That’s Myra.
You know her?
She’s in my math class.
Equipment manager sits down at the scorer’s table. Adjusts the keypad which controls the scoreboard.
Today, you have your sport in common. You’re teammates.
But in the future, it’s her you’ll have in common.
One of you will be her best friend.
One of you will be her boyfriend.
And one of you will hurt her enough to be arrested for it.
Projector whirs faster. Hums hotter.
What?
Who’d you say you were again?
Equipment manager taps the keypad. T-minus twenty minutes on the scoreboard. A buzzer. Blaring. Rodney and Garrett look back at the scorer’s table. Equipment manager is gone.
Rodney resumes dribbling.
All right then.
You think he’s pranking us?
Obviously.
But my backup theory is we’re tripping.
Or, we’re dreaming.
Is this your dream or mine?
My dreams are dumb as hell.
This is definitely yours.
He said he was retired and bored.
Do retirees really pull pranks
like this when they’re bored?
I’m just gonna go with yes.
Rodney attempts to dunk. Height deficit forces it into a layup.
You seem unphased.
Not unphased. Just focused. Trying to get into the
Singer School of Success, remember?
Be real here, Rod.
Rodney stops. Holds the ball against his stomach.
All right. Here’s what I say.
Leave the scoreboard and projector on.
We can still warm up in this light.
Wait until Coach and the others get here,
so they can see it for themselves.
We’ll tell them a perv came in,
pretended to be part of the team,
put that up there,
threatened us, and left.
Coach will deal with it.
And in the meantime,
we just keep warming up.
We’re not gonna let this guy throw us.
A perv who knows Myra.
Probably just picked a random picture.
What are the odds I’d know her though?
School as big as ours?
Bounce pass to Garrett.
You don’t know her though.
Not really.
I guess.
Garrett retreats from the scorer’s table. Wipes his soles. Toes up at the free throw line. Time for a routine. Bounce bounce. Grips. Squares up. Pumps arm. Flicks off. Miss. Ricochets off the rim. Rebound retrieved. Rodney’s now.
What’s Myra’s last name?
Polanco.
I think her brother’s one of the freshmen on JV.
Coach has me work with him sometimes.
Screening stance is all messed up.
Garrett stands straight. Stops defending. Rodney takes the open lane. Shoots. Misses.
You know her brother?
Rodney fetches his own rebound.
Sort of.
So we both kind of have a connection to her.
Change on the scoreboard.
Home: 2
Rodney drops the ball.
What the fuck?
Still focused?
Don’t be an asshole. Did you put the points up there?
No.
Rodney retrieves the ball. Throws it hard at the scoreboard. Dents the corner. Retrieves the ball. Throws it hard at the scorer’s table. Detaches the banner taped to it. Retrieves the ball. Throws it hard at the keypad. Cracks the plastic casing. Retrieves the ball.
Rodney, stop.
This isn’t funny anymore, you fucking perv!
Hey, hey, hey.
Singer School of Success, remember?
Keep your cool.
You wanted me to be bothered before.
Now I’m bothered.
Bothered that this guy’s messing with us?
Or bothered that it could be true?
Rodney stares. Garrett stares back. Chest pass to Garrett. Catches it. Stumbles back a step.
Obviously it’s not true.
You’re sure?
Hurt her enough to be arrested for it?
You really think one of us would do something like that?
Maybe it means like a car crash.
Like it’s something accidental.
We both know it’s not that.
Change on the scoreboard.
Visitor: 2
Look. Pervert agrees.
Okay, then we’ll just make sure neither of us dates her.
Who says it’s the guy who dates her who gets arrested?
Pervert said.
No.
Rodney walks to the nearest lane line. Toes up at the first hash mark.
Best friend.
Toes up at the second hash mark.
Boyfriend.
Toes up at the third hash mark.
Guy who gets arrested.
Points at the hash marks. Then at the lane line connecting them all.
Separate roles, but not completely.
There’s only two of us, so one of us will be two roles, not one.
Could be the boyfriend who hurts her. Or just as easily, the friend.
Change on the scoreboard.
Visitor: 4
Garrett aches. Runs his fingers through his hair. Tugs his St. Sebastian chain for help.
We should go.
Doors are probably locked.
Serious?
Dude’s watching us from somewhere right now.
You think he’d let us go?
Bounce pass to Rodney. Garrett walks away. Tests the doors. Locked.
Oh God.
You think he’s gonna kill us?
Well, you can’t psychologically torture someone who’s dead.
You think he’s gonna make us quit the team then?
Like, ruin our future, get us canceled, stuff like that?
Chest pass back to Garrett.
Is that what you’re most afraid of?
Garrett doesn’t reply.
Then yeah. I do think that’s what he’s gonna do.
Change on the scoreboard.
Visitor: 6
Garrett wails. Throws the ball at the backboard. Hard ricochet. Ball sails over their heads. Bounces toward the other net. Garrett walks to the scoreboard. Glares upward.
6 to 2.
You’ve really got this guy figured out.
Trying to say something?
Trying to understand.
Rodney sits on the team’s bench.
Maybe we don’t have to quit.
You just need to switch out of that class.
And I’ll just stop working with her brother.
Tell Coach I’m too busy or something.
We just need to cut off all possible connections.
Garrett twists around.
Maybe that’s the guy’s point.
To warn us now so that we can stop it from ever happening.
Change on the scoreboard.
Home: 4
Rodney almost smiles.
Okay, so that’s something at least.
Projection goes dark. Overhead lights blink on. Doors open. A girl. Duffel bags on both shoulders. Two racks of basketballs behind her. Lights up when she sees the third rack already on the court.
Oh! There it is.
Rodney stands. Wants to see her face better. Braces. Nose piercing. Blocky eyebrows.
Are you Myra?
Myra registers Rodney and Garrett.
Yeah. New equipment manager. Coach told you about me?
Garrett crosses his arms over his chest. Clutches his shoulders.
Yeah. We know about you.
Myra comes to the baseline. Drops the bags.
I’ll be right back. There’s one more in the closet.
Myra leaves. Rodney and Garrett meet. Half-court. Panicked.
Okay, God’s gotta be fucking with us or something.
Are we sure perv is even human?
Like, did we really get a good look at his face?
Put that aside for a second.
Didn’t I just get points for saying we’re
supposed to stop this from happening?
Yeah, but we were thinking of stopping it a different way.
I think perv still wants us to quit the team altogether.
I can’t do that, Rod.
You’re gonna risk getting arrested?
Scouts are coming to see me.
See us.
I know.
That’s why you can’t quit either.
But what if it’s me?
What if I’m the one who gets arrested?
Ten minutes ago, you thought this was a prank.
And ten minutes later, now you do too?
Rodney speaks to his high tops.
Garrett, if we don’t quit,
either one of us could be the one who hurts her.
Garrett folds his arms.
Fuck. I guess I’ll just get a good lawyer then.
You guys always come this early?
Myra at the baseline. Throws down the last bag. Rodney slaps Garrett’s back. Stings.
Yup. Singer School of Success.
Rodney walks away.
I’m heading out. Tell Coach I quit.
Dude, come on.
Wait, what’s happening?
I guess I just can’t afford a good lawyer.
You’re letting him get to you.
And you stopped letting him get to you.
What’s going on?
Thursday. 5:47pm.
Rodney leaves early. Unusual.
Gym is unlocked, and all the lights are on. At 6pm, the team will come, but Rodney has nothing more to gain. Grabs his duffel bag from the bleachers. Zips his jacket. Turns his phone back on. Slides in his AirPods. Nods to Myra. Never wants to see her again. For her sake. Then his.
Rod?
Door half open. Rodney half gone.
Yeah?
What if it’s all three?
Garret points at the hash marks. Then at the lane line connecting them all.
What if all three roles are one person?
Change on the scoreboard.
Home: 6
Rodney looks at Myra. Then Garrett.
Tied game.
Johanna Ziegler is a writer and director whose written work has appeared in Broken Antler Magazine, Aisthesis, coalition