Fairytale Drabbles

Oct 25, 2012 10:08



The basketball thumps loudly against the ground in the court in Town. The sky is dark, with only the smallest wisps of light showing over the horizon. And Riley is sweating as she throws the ball again, groans as it bounces off the hoop.

The boys are bringing knives to school tomorrow, comparing sizes, decorations, sharpness. The rumor spread throughout the student body earlier like wildfire, and Riley is worried. Not too worried, of course, because she's a big girl, and blood isn't scary anymore. Shouldn't be scary anymore.

Still. She can't sleep, can't force her mind to stop thinking of all the different ways things could slip and people could get hurt and red could paint the walls, the floor, their body. So she's here, standing at the 3-point line, putting all her nervous and anxious energy into focusing on her hands, her body, the hoop.

The basketball thumps loudly against the ground as the sun rises.

--------


Her heart thumps nervously in her heart. It's different from anxiety - she knows that difference. It's not fear that's pulsing through her body now, but apprehension. Talking to people is so difficult - especially talking to tall, intimidating boys who are years older than her. Wringing her hands, she stays, side practically glued to a tree near the court. Watching the boys play is fantastic. They're all so good. And ten-year-old Riley is fairly sure that she'd never be able to compete.

But she's not a fraidy-cat - like Grandma says, she's a James. Never a Rodrick, always a James. And are Jameses afraid to speak to boys? Most certainly not. Are Jameses ever afraid in general? Absolutely not. Her grandmother, of course, hates silly nonsense like fear and weakness. James women are strong. Riley's mother, after all, was the exemplification of that.

Her hands curl into determined wrists, and she tugs at her jersey in one last determined gesture before striding up to the court. It's now or never, and she's pretty sure Grandpa would say something like 'Hesitation is for suckers'. With a bit of careless bravado she didn't know she had, she says loudly, "Can I confess something? I'm pretty sure I could take you guys one on three."

drabbles

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