Howdy,
#NaNoWriMo (550) — Day 21
(Unedited, or only slightly)
(Editor’s note: with only a third of my #nanowrimo left, it seems the days are short for our Jake Jones serial. I’m feeling the urge to jump out of story sequence today. Doing some thinking about possibilities for endings … The process of choosing a natural insertion location for this scene will serve as an effective kickstart in revision and prime more writing for transition and tie-ins.)
Continued …
After Saturday’s full day of ball, it was back to church on Sunday. And breakfast and lunch with Grandma. Which was nice, but Jake was eager for the court again that afternoon.
In the time he’d shed his Sunday Best for his more athletic wear — slinky gray t-shirt, swishy mesh shorts, slimy green socks, and stinky worn shoes — it seemed the three adults of the house had snoozed off into instant afternoon naps.
Sunday afternoon naps. The longer ones.
Jake knew nobody would be worried about him for awhile. Really, no one would worry about him at all. They’d know where he was. Where he always was, out playing ball.
Under the circumstances, a good arrangement for all: no one worried about Jake, and Jake kept himself busy hooping at the elementary schoolyard near his house.
Arriving at the schoolyard court confirmed that his napping house was no fault of his own. From the looks of it he hadn’t taken long to change and pop through the swung open screen door. No one else had beat him there, and Jake knew they’d be coming.
Players always showed up on the weekends — really almost everyday, evenings, but especially on the weekends. Jake dribbled straight onto the court, not even hesitating for a sip from the fountain, intent on getting up some shots before he’d have to share the court.
It played out weird, most times. The idea of players joining him at the popular public court jazzed Jake with an anticipatory energy, that he couldn’t contain or control. He’d be excited for athletic companion and potential completion even though often it hadn’t gone as hoped for him.
Because, yes, he’d have to share the court, then his hoop, and then maybe even be bumped aside when five-on-five full court sprung into action.
Sure, he’d get a “fair” shot a making a team like anyone else out there street balling. A fair shot to get in line to make a free throw to make a team, but somehow most opportunities arose first come first serve on the opposite end of his court.
He would be free to join the end of the line, invited even, but if the guys ahead of him made shots — which didn’t always happen completely enough to shut him out before he’d even gotten a chance to shoot — Jake would be outside the sidelines looking in on the game going on without him. He’d be without his court until the game ended and he got another end-of-the-line turn to make a team.
Bigger, stronger, taller guys tended to stroll to fronts of lines. Those types also seemed to be kinds of specimens that got rooted on to make their free throw and join the team by the players who’d already secured their roster spots.
Jake wasn’t so much conspired against, as much as he didn’t appear to receive much significant notice. Significant, or otherwise. Diminutive Jake Jones could take his ball and dribble away without a realization that a player had been lost to the game.
Jake dreamed of being a sleeper when he did get his chance to really get some run.
So, that Sunday, he did what he always did before anyone arrived, Jake Jones got up as many shots as he could, energized knowing he’d be joined long before his home stopped snoring.
To be continued …
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
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