Page 11 of Shattered Echoes

I threw the ball at her, and she grabbed it and stepped into the court. We played. She was good, I'd give her that. She tried every trick under her sleeve to get on my nerves. She would push, shove and steal the ball from me when it was clearly my turn. We went on and on with it, bickering back and forth, our voices echoing down the street. Our competition against each other even rubbed our teammates the wrong way, so much so that some even gave up playing.

“You call that a defense?” she jeered, dribbling past me with much ease.

“Just because you can dribble doesn't mean you can actually play,” I retorted.

A hint of a smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth. “At least I'm good at something, unlike some people I know,” she shot back.

I clenched my jaw as I longed to get the ball from her. “You talk a big game for someone who has won nothing.”

Colette laughed so loudly that it hung in the air even seconds after she had stopped. “Oh please, I've beaten you so many times. More than I can count on one hand, and I'll do it again.”

That had been our relationship for as long as I could remember.

But since we all grew up and went our separate ways, I hadn’t bothered once to ask about her.

I was glad that the pain in my ass was gone for good. Actually, I didn't care at all. I decide to ignore her projection and ask again, “Seriously, Colette, what's going on? Why are you here?”

I don't want to fall back into old patterns. I'm trying to start anew here and be a better person.

But her gaze hardens. “It’s none of your damn business! Just mind your own,” her eyes flash with anger.

I raise both my palms in resignation. “Alright, fine. If that's what you want.”

“Damn right. That's exactly what I want.”

The tension between us crackles like a wildfire.

She shuts the garage door, glaring at me one last time as the automatic roll down door closes on its own. She storms inside afterwards.

It's only day two back here, and I already feel like it's been an entire week. It's going to be an interesting ride. Having a neighbor who hates your guts? What a way to start fresh. Although, I'd prefer to start on a clean slate with everyone, but I guess Colette is going to make it a tad bit more difficult. But I'll see about that.

I wanted to ask about her brother, but I guess we’ll leave it for a later time, if there ever will be another time.

I know we haven't seen the last of each other. It’s only the beginning.

I chuckle and head back towards my house.

5

Colette

‘Fair, but you don't look so good. Are you okay?’

His words resound in my head as I walk into the house, pissed. Antonio is still the same prick that I had always known him to be. His guts, though. Did he not think about stuff before opening his mouth to speak?

He was arrogant as always and didn't realize just how offensive he sounded. What a jerk!

“Argh!” I groan in frustration. “What a piece of shit.”

Tossing my bag on the sofa in the living-room, I throw my hands into my hair. Spray paint cans clatter out, their metal bodies clinking against each other. The sound of pressurized paint hisses softly as it escapes from one can, filling the air with a sharp, chemical scent.

“He doesn't look so good himself — I mean, the Antonio Amato I used to know was a lot bigger than the guy I just saw,” I mumble to myself, trying to mask the hurt of his words.

The two of us have never been cool with each other. In fact, we were always at each other's throats, never seeing eye to eye, even though he is my brother's best friend.

It suddenly hit me I wasn't imagining things when I saw that light in the Amato mansion the other day. Obviously, it was Antonio that turned it on.

Last I heard, he was a musician or something, so what the hell is he doing back here?

---