Page 38 of Collision
We go on chatting about lighter topics for the rest of lunch, and afterward we start heading toward the gymnasium with the other students. The seats in the first row are already all occupied, but in the second row I find Leila. She points to some vacant chairs behind her and invites me to join her. I take the opportunity to introduce her to Alex and Tiffany.
The gym is so full of people that it seems much smaller than it really is. Many of our students have painted their faces orange and black, while others unfurl signs with slogans and cheers on them. On the opposite side of the gym, fans of the Oregon Ducks create an expanse of green. Alex, with his ever-present Canon, begins shooting. When the players finally enter, they are greeted by heated cheers, whistles, and applause.
Travis is nervous. I can tell by the clench of his jaw. I try to catch his eye to reassure him, but he doesn’t seek me out. He never does during games, always too focused on going over strategy in his head.
“Hey, hey. I guess someone here made an impression!” exclaims Tiffany, giving me a conspiratorial nudge.
“Meaning what?”
She points to the boy from the cafeteria, who keeps looking up to smile at me from the sideline as he warms up with a few dribbles. I feel the heat on my cheeks, and I know I’ve turned bright red. My friends laugh at my embarrassment, and I give them both a shoulder check.
“He’s definitely looking at someone else,” I murmur, biting my nails. I turn to confirm my hypothesis, but behind me I can see only teachers, a few parents, and…a fair-haired boy sitting alone in the back row. As soon as he notices my attention, he greets me shyly with a slight nod of his head. It nags at me—do I know him? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before, although he does, in fact, have a familiar vibe.
“Oh, knock it off!” Tiffany’s wail draws my attention back to her. “He is clearly looking at you! You are a beautiful girl, Vanessa: deal with it. And I’ll tell you what’s more, lots of guys on campus look at you just like he’s doing right now. You would notice if you didn’t spend every waking moment moping over my brother!”
Touché.
I take courage from Tiffany’s words and return the boy’s greeting, smiling shyly at him. We keep looking at each other for a few seconds, but the moment is interrupted by Travis’s menacing glare boring into me from afar. As if that were not enough, someone hurls a ball at the feet of the cafeteria boy with the charcoal-colored eyes: Thomas, who gives him a threatening look.
What the…
The surreal scene does not go unnoticed by my best friends or Leila. All three of them look at me, bewildered and incredulous, waiting for explanations.
“Okay, Nessy, what the hell is going on? Since when has your love life become more exciting than mine?” Tiffany asks with a mischievous smile on her lips.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She snorts in amusement and lays a hand on my shoulder. “I’m gonna pretend to believe you only because I know you’re probably having a panic attack right now and have plenty to think about. But know that this conversation isn’t over, my friend,” she concludes in a mocking tone.
I am saved by the referee, who blows his whistle and starts the game.
After an unfavorable first half, we start putting up buckets one after another until we are two points behind the Ducks. Travis maneuvers well; despite a redheaded, freckled boy who is all over him and tries to put him in a tight spot, he is not intimidated. He dribbles confidently, then passes the ball to Thomas behind the red-haired boy’s back. Thomas shoots it in the direction of the basket, but a member of the opposing team pushes him. Thomas falls back as all eyes watch theball swish into the net. With two seconds on the clock, the score is tied and the foul is in our favor.
Thomas goes to the foul line to set up for the free throw. If he makes it, the victory will be ours. Before he does anything else, he bends his knees, rests the ball on the floor, and bows his head, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He is lost, staring at some indeterminate point in the distance, and he squeezes his eyes shut, as though reaching for the focus necessary to better visualize his target. As he does this, he continually worries the NCAA-approved wristband standing in for the black bandana he always wears tied around his wrist, twisting it over and over again. After just a few seconds, he gets to his feet.
When we think he’s finally ready to shoot, everyone stands up, all eyes glued to him. The gym, chaotic until a moment ago, plummets into total silence. The tension is palpable. Thomas darts his gaze from the ball to the basket. And, with each practice dribble, the impact of the ball on the hardwood floor is deafening. Suddenly, I remember two nights ago, when we found ourselves outside together and, of his own free will, he told me how it feels every time he hits the court. About the adrenaline that courses through his veins, pushing him through each movement.
Thomas turns my way. He spots me immediately in the crowd, as though we were connected by an invisible thread. Sweat beads on his forehead. There’s a flush across his cheekbones and his breathing is labored. But he smiles at me…a barely there smile, but nevertheless it seems to make time suspend, to expand endlessly around us. His eyes, that intense emerald green, are shining. They seem to me to be speaking: Here it is. Here is that most beautiful moment.
Against all common sense, I decide not to break the strange connection that has arisen between us. I smile at him knowingly and, for a moment, it feels like all the spectators around us have disappeared, that there is only me and him. The moment that Thomas turns his attention back to the hoop, I have absolute certainty that he will score. He centers the ball in front of his body, pushes it up, and…
“Ladies and gentlemen! It’s a miracle! The Beavers win the first game of the season!” shouts the commentator at the top of his lungs,as all the players on the team—except Travis—pile on Thomas. The crowd is in a frenzy as the Ducks and their fans leave the scene with their tails between their legs. I turn to my friends to cheer, and only then do I notice the identical astonished expressions on Alex, Tiffany, and Leila’s faces.
Oh, no…
I can’t explain what just happened either. All I know is that, right now, there is a part of me that would like nothing more than to run down from the stands and celebrate with Thomas.
Twelve
After the game, I get a ride home from Alex. Travis offered, but I told him he should celebrate with his teammates and that we would meet at his house later so we could go to the party together. I needed to buy as much time as possible to figure out what to do. During the car ride, I immediately try to throw Alex off the scent before he can ask me any questions.
“So, Stella is coming tonight?” I say, going on the attack.
“Yeah, she started driving down from Vancouver an hour ago,” he tells me with a twinkle in his eye.
“You’ve got it bad for her, don’t you, friend?” I say with a huge grin.
“Shut up!” Alex’s face turns purple, and I burst out laughing.
