Enemy Match Chapter 2

Enemy Match

Chapter 2

Melissa and Van followed me into the gym.

There were about 40 students spread out in the bleachers along the far side of the gym. None of them were people I would call friends. I gulped as I followed Peters to the end of the gym where one of the basketball nets were.

Game of one on one, you and me, Peters said with a smirk. First one to twenty wins. Not that there’s any mystery to who that will be.  

OK, I said. Thankfully I was still wearing my high top sneakers and had a t-shirt and shorts on, so I was good—I didn’t have to change.

Peters was decked out in basketball shorts, tank top in the school colours, blue and gold. The latest basketball high tops completed the outfit. He came dressed to win.

He bounced the ball and faked a pass to my head. I flinched, clearly not ready for this. At least Peters had all day to mentally get ready for this—what was I saying? Peters had to mentally prepare to wake up in the morning.

His on again off again girlfriend Courtney Clubine came over and held the ball, she would be unofficial referee and would help with the tip off. These guys were serious.

The gym door slammed shut at that moment and I glanced over to see Coach Detmar enter the gym. He made his way over to the bleachers and sat down. I noticed that Reed Wyatt had come into the gym as well and was seated at the back. He gave me the thumbs up sign.

I turned back to face Peters who had a nasty grin on his face. You’re dead! He mumbled to me as we went to stand in the middle of the gym for the face off.

Courtney handed Daryl a bright neon pink water bottle and he took a few sips then handed it back.

Where’s mine? I asked.

Courtney just glared at me.

Get your own Macdonald, Daryl grunted.

I shrugged, trying not to look like I was about to wet myself. Running though my mind was who had hacked my Facebook account and put up this ridiculous challenge. Because it was ridiculous. There was no way I would win this. The whole school must have thought I was nuts.

So what was the reason? Peter would win and I would look like a fool for even suggesting a match. I wasn’t the most well liked guy at PSC but most people knew I wasn’t an idiot.

Or was I?

We tipped off and of course Daryl got the ball. He raced across the gym like a flash and scored a basket before I could even blink.

At least my misery would be short lived.

We played for the next 5 minutes and I actually managed to get one basket—don’t know how that happened. Van, Melissa and Reed cheered but they were the only ones.

Courtney came over and gave Daryl the water bottle again. Melissa pulled a bottle from her bag and came over and gave it to me.

Thanks! I said and she smiled. I took a long swig then handed it back. I looked over to see Van just sitting there, staring and grinning. He knew there was no way I would win this and was wondering what I was thinking.

I looked over at Daryl who was sweating profusely. I was sweating myself, but he was an athlete—this was nothing to him. Why was he sweating so much?

Come—on Macdonald. Stop gawking. Let’s—get this game going, he gasped.

I nodded. The score was 9-1 and would soon be over. The next shot was Peter’s but he fumbled the ball and I jumped over to catch it. I took off towards the net and scored again. 9-2.

Peters nodded and off we went again. I had the ball and tried a free throw—what did I have to lose? Besides this game of course.

Peters caught it midflight then he fell to the ground, the ball rolling away.

 A gasp went up in the bleachers. I went over to see if Daryl was OK.  Get off me, he grunted getting to his feet. I’m—OK, jerk face.

You don’t look OK, I remarked.

Just lay off, Macdonald. I’m—good.

I nodded but was unconvinced. The game continued and Peters looked weaker and was still sweating. Courtney had to come over with the water bottle every few minutes. But Peters was still sweating. His tank top was drenched in sweat.

Are you sure you’re OK? I said, standing with the ball. He reached for it to knock it out of my hand, but missed. I dodged around him and headed to the net.

Another shot—another point. We were now even at 12-12.

He was starting to look worried. If he thought it would be easy to beat me—he was wrong.

I felt good. I was barely breaking a sweat but Daryl continued to sweat. He was tiring quickly as was I but he was tiring more quickly than me.

I called a time out at 15 all.

No, he rasped. Let’s get this over with. You’re better than I thought but not as good as me.

Very well, but you don’t look good, dude, I muttered.

Neither do you, you’re butt ugly, he snapped. Who cares?

That’s not what I meant—OK, we’ll keep going.

Peters nodded then coughed. Let’s go!

I dodged around him and got another point.

16-15. I was winning.

I was—winning? How could that be?

Another point, I easily grabbed the ball from Peters and made another shot. Another point.

17-15.

Only three more and I would win!

Don’t get cocky, Macdonald, he rasped, his voice sounding cracked. He was exhausted.

Are you sure you’re OK? I said, a little worried now. I hated the guy, sure but I was about to trounce him and he looked like he was ready to collapse.

I’m—fine, jerk! He screeched. Let’s play this! Move!

Ok, I said. But something’s not right.

What’s not right is you talking. Shut your face and let’s get this done, he muttered.

Next point was another easy one for me. I’m not the greatest basketball player—heck I’m not that good at any sports really, but I can hold my own—against most other guys. But against Daryl Peters? The guy was a jock and if I won against him his rep would be damaged. Did I want to do that to him.

Damn right I did! This would be so freaking awesome if I could beat him.

18-15. Peters couldn’t seem to get the ball.  More water from the water bottle. Melissa came over and gave me her bottle. Is Peters OK? She whispered. You’re winning.

I realize that, I said ruefully. But he’s stubborn. He says he’s OK.

She returned to the bleachers. I glanced over and saw Peter’s cronies all talking amongst themselves and they didn’t look happy. Their star was losing to the wimp Justin Macdonald.

Van on the other hand was on his feet and grinning widely. As were Melissa and Reed who had come to join them in the front row.

At that moment Mr. Detmar came over to us. He looked concerned as did most of the people in the gym.

Are you OK, Daryl, he asked, his brow furrowed. You don’t look well, son.

I’m fine, he said between gritted teeth. He came over to me, his hair plastered with sweat. He looked pale as well. Something was definitely wrong.

He poked his finger into my chest. You! He muttered. Are going down. I don’t know what tricks you’re pulling but it stops here. You hear me? It stops here.

I brushed his finger away which seemed to infuriate him even further. We’ll see, I said calmly, turning away.

Macdonald, don’t turn away from me when I’m talking to you. I’m not done.

What is it? I turned back to him, cupping a hand around my ear so as to hear him better. Hmm, what do you have to say now? Wanna give me some pointers. Looks like I don’t need any.

Peters seethed at that remark. You’re a jerk and you got an attitude, he muttered. You think you’re special ‘cause your old man’s a PI. But that don’t mean nothing. I’m the best this school’s got. And you’re nothing.

Pardon? I said, getting annoyed now.

You heard me, he grunted, wiping sweat from his forehead. I’m sick of hearing your name everywhere I go. When I beat you, you’ll look like the idiot for even challenging me. No one challenges Daryl Peters and wins. You might think you’re winning. But—that’s about to end. He coughed again and turned away. He spoke in hushed tones to Detmar who returned to his seat.

Peters took the ball—it was his point and dashed around me but I grabbed for the ball and got it. I stepped around him and raced off to the goal, with him on my heels.

Another shot—another point. 19-15.

One more point and I would win. I would beat Daryl Peters at a game of one on one basketball. Was I in the twilight zone?

Peters looked flushed now. He was gasping for breath. I don’t know what I was thinking when I handed him the ball. He took it and headed back down the court to the centre then turned around and came back to the net. He threw the ball but it was short—a lot short.

His cronies in the bleachers gasped audibly. They didn’t know what was going on. Neither did I.

Daryl stood there, hands on his knees gasping for breath. I stood there a moment to let him catch his breath.

He stood up again. Let’s finish this.

He grabbed the ball and dribbled down the court. He nearly fumbled it but caught it at the last minute and did a layup, scoring another point.

It was now 19-16. Was I getting cocky? I had to watch myself. Only one more point and I would win. I glanced over to Van, Melissa and Reed whose faces wore a mixture of excitement and confusion.

I was winning, but how was that possible?

Macdonald, Peters bellowed. Let’s go.

I dribbled the ball down the court and headed to the net. I could see Peters out of the corner of my eye—gaining on me. I flew to the net. I could hear Van and Reed screaming, go Justin! Go dude!

The ball flew out of my hand and bounced against the rim, twirled, then went into the basket.

The gym was quiet. All I could hear was Daryl Peters heavy breathing. I turned to him. He was as pale as a ghost and sweat was dripping off him onto the floor. He looked up at me with pure hatred in his eyes.

What have I done? I said to myself. I came here thinking I was going to be the fool, but I just made Peters the fool.

The star athlete of Port Salser Collegiate beaten by a nobody, wimp Justin Macdonald. It would be all over school by the morning. I would either be a hero or a pariah. I had taken down the star. I had baited him on social media (well I actually hadn’t) and then beat him.

He stood there a moment glaring at me. He didn’t offer congratulations—not that I expected he would.

But something wasn’t right. He was pale and his eyes bloodshot. Something really wasn’t right.

He opened his mouth to say something but instead his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed right there on the gym floor.