Howdy,
#NaNoWriMo (550) — Day 9
(Unedited, or only slightly)
Continued …
The rain kept coming.
All through recess it rained. Jake knew ‘cause he kept checking, instinctively, hoping for a break in the weather, holding onto a doomed notion that maybe they’d get lunch out on the court.
Sometimes a lightening in the downpour raised those hopes for outdoor hoops before his school day ended. But then he wouldn’t even have to check: the pounding on the roof told him how hard the weather washed down.
Hard or light, that day’s rain was steady, and when Jake looked last, through the glass windows lining the classroom’s outer wall, it was falling fast, splashing with big, bouncing drops rebounding back up in spray, like the sprinters lining the lawn along the sidewalk were on, shooting full force in their strays onto the concrete walk.
The playground court was wet and getting wetter. Or deeper, really. The morning’s early puddles forming early having become growing ponds, flooding when multiples touched edges.
Not getting wetter. Everything already appeared soaking wet. Jake figured it couldn’t get much wetter outside.
He knew, when the time came, he’d be eating lunch inside. What Jake Jones didn’t know was what he’d be doing with the rest of his time at lunch when his packed food had been eaten.
Sitting?
He didn’t like to sit, and Jake had had enough of that already that day, stuck in the classroom for recess.
Lunch period brought a surprise. Jake and his class, as well as others, had heard over the Public Address system that they were reassigned to the gymnasium for lunch. Jake being a sixth grader the switch was unprecedented for him, but he like it. In the gym. Sounded good to him.
Rumor went ‘round quickly the cafeteria itself lacked capacity to accommodate all the students out for lunch under its roof all at the same time. When kids were moving through during good weather, many choosing benches and tables outside.
Having a sack lunched packed Jake snagged prime seating in the gym. He’d almost finished eating before all those who’d had to pick up their food in the cafeteria first before navigating the rain — and worse, the lines of liquid streaming off roofs or over gutters — made their way into the gym for eating.
But Jake wasn’t concerned with premier seats or eating, other than getting it done.
His interest was completely in the south-west corner of the gymnasium — where an amazing opportunity awaited Jake: one open basketball hoop, with no table under it or too close around it. To him, it looked open enough for a half court game. Or at least a half of a half court game: some chairs strayed into one side and down into that corner, but not too bad, not enough to bother Jake or squelch his joy, especially since he spied a couple of loose indoor basketballs up against the tucked in bleachers.
Jake jetted over to the basketballs, picked one up, and dropped it from the height of his highest reach. It bounced back above his extended elbow, straight out, shoulder height. Too much air; too much bounce for Jake’s feel. For dribbling, but overinflation wouldn’t help a soft shooter’s touch on the rim either.
He snapped up the other ball, repeated the bounce test. Dropped against the wood floor it returned right up to his elbow, just touching as Jake cheated his elbow down slightly to make contact barely at the last instant.
Jake gave it a few dribbles, using both hands. Perfect.
The basketball felt great. Off the gymnasium floor, amazing.
He needed to get into a gym more often, Jake thought.
To be continued …
—Billy
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