Elsewhere, a young man was sitting on a picnic blanket. The man wasn’t eating anything. His basket was empty, the picnic was a front.

  He’d never met the dealer he was waiting for. They’d agreed on the day and location but not on an explicit time. The theory was that by being vague in this way, they avoided leaking details to the authorities. However, despite being done for security reasons, this strategy introduced its own vulnerabilities.

  A cracking sound entered his field of awareness and then grew into a sound of footsteps. The man turned toward the sound and caught a visual of a figure. It was an old man holding something that looked like a compass and walking toward him.

  The old man looked up and the two locked eyes. “Hey there, I take it you’re waiting for someone?”

  The question was based on the oddity of a solo picnic, but it was taken as a sort of self-identification. “I am. You here to talk?”

  “You could say that. Mind if I join you?”

  He gestured for the old man to take a seat. His visitor was cloaked behind more layers than one would expect. The combined senses of nervous anticipation and impatience made it seem plausible that the old man could be hiding all sorts of products or combat tools in there.

  “What’s your name, then?”

  “Walter,” he lied. “And yours?”

  The old man shrugged. “I take it you’ve encountered a rather strange app in the last couple months?”

  Walter’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”

  Again the old man shrugged. “I don’t know much.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m here to discuss. You’re right that I found such an app, only I didn’t just find it. I’ve improved on it in a way that could revolutionize the narcotics market.”

  Walter pulled a phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to the old man.

  “That’s my app right there. The original app had a function called ‘save body state’. I cracked the app’s code and rebuilt it to isolate this feature.”

  The old man frowned and held the phone up, as if looking for a signal. Walter’s eyes followed and, in doing so, didn’t notice the old man’s other hand sneaking into a coat pocket.

  He continued, “The idea is that the app can save the state of your body and then return it to that state later. So, and I’ve tested this, if someone gets high and saves, they can then return to that high without taking anything at the push of a button. Same works with sobriety, if you have anything on you I can demonstrate to that effect.”

  “Not necessary, I believe you. I know a bit about this after all.”

  “Well, here’s the kicker. My mod also introduces a paywall which kicks in after a while. In order to return to their high, a junkie will have to send money. So, we only need to buy the first dose that they save with and then we’ve got them paying us with no further input required.”

  Walter ended this pitch with a proud grin stretched across his face. His sense of ingenuity was undercut, though, by the look of disgust the old man had as he looked down at the phone.

  He put his hands up and attempted damage control. “It’s more ethical too. See, since the body is basically just returning to a memory it doesn’t build up any tolerance or physical dependency. So if someone quits using it they won’t, like, die or anything. They just probably won’t quit because they’ll freely choose an altered state. Folks are much safer with this than with traditional methods.”

  “Hmm… maybe. The thing I don’t understand is where’s the app?”

  “What?”

  Walter took the phone back and searched through it. He’d had the app on there just a few minutes ago, but now it was gone. His innovation had somehow disappeared.

  “Huh, must be some sort of glitch. No worries, though, I’ve got another build of it here.”

  He pulled out a laptop. The old man moved next to him so that they could both see it.

  “See, here it is. I’m calling it The Happy Button at the moment, but the name is a work in progress. Another benefit is that once we get someone’s login credentials, we can use the original app on them.”

  “I see.” The old man pulled something out of his pocket which looked something like a marble or a lens. “Take a look through here.”

  Walter took the lens. It was odd. Through the lens, all the colors and shades of everything seemed to blend together into a dark red. He couldn’t make out the surrounding trees, his basket, his blanket, his laptop, his hand, nothing. The only thing he could identify was a pink rectangle. Comparing with and without the lens, he found the rectangle was the window of his modified app.

  “Weird. Say, who did you say you-”

  The pink rectangle vanished along with the window. All the links to the program were gone, as was the program itself.

  “How did you… You just…” Walter leapt up. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Calm down-”

  “You tricked me! Oh man, I’m so stupid! I thought you were somebody else! And now… fuck, how am I going to get any investors!”

  “Just wait, I think we could-”

  “No… no, no, no, my mom thinks I’m at college, how am I going to explain this to-”

  “Shut up and listen for a mo-”

  “No, why the hell wou-”

  Pulling from his pocket, “This is a thousand dollars!”

  Walter was shocked to attention.

  The old man continued, “I acknowledge that I just took something from you. I haven’t decided yet, but there’s a fair chance I’ll end up erasing the original app too. In the meantime, as a reparation, I’ll give you these dollars and the lens.”

  Walter took the cash and took another peek through the lens. Everything remained red, except the silhouette of the old man which looked like an almost random splattering of colors.

  “If you ever find something which looks different from the background, call me and I’ll compensate you for it. Does that make up for the trouble?”

  “Well, no.”

  The old man raised his eyebrows.

  “...but I guess it’s not nothing.”

  Helen’s phone buzzed to life with a notification from the group chat.

  ????Sasha: DID YOU GUYS SEE THE BASKETBALL GAME LAST NIGHT?

  ????Becky: no

  Not having much to do that afternoon, Helen seconded this.

  ????Helen: me either

  ????Sasha: you guys are missing out

  ????Sasha: it was a good game

  ????Becky: when did you become a sports fan?

  ????Sasha: when I saw the guys on the team ??

  ????Helen’s palm went straight to her forehead as she strongly considered putting the phone down.

  ????Becky: wtf

  ????Sasha: I’m serious!

  ????Becky: thirsty is what you are slut

  ????Sasha: uncalled for

  ????Sasha: @Helen back me up on this, moral patrol

  ????Helen: that was a little harsh

  ????Becky: lol

  ????Helen: I don’t exactly agree on the other part though

  ????Becky: yeah me and helen, jocks just aren’t our type

  ????Sasha: I seem to recall you dating a guy from the soccer team last year

  ????Becky: for two weeks

  ????Becky: wasn’t my type

  ????Becky: case in point

  ????Helen: lol

  ????Sasha: you two just don’t know what you’re missing, come to a game and you’ll see what I mean

  ????Becky: maybe

  ????Becky: helen, go watch basketball with sash and report back

  ????Helen: what? why me?

  ????Helen: im not interested either

  ????Sasha: come on pweeese?

  ????Sasha: you gotta start looking into guys some time or you’ll miss your chance

  ????Helen: wtf

  ????Becky: lol ok grandma

  Sam kept up the habit of scanning the stands for the first few games of the season. Helen was generally absent, but in looking he wound up getting a sense for the regulars. His father was there a fair amount of the time and sometimes managed to drag his mother along too. There was also a vaguely familiar blonde girl in a ponytail who always seemed remarkably invested in the games.

  As he got used to not seeing Helen, the scanning became less frequent. He’d check before the game and at halftime, but once she wasn’t there the idea that she may suddenly appear seemed less likely.

  All the better for focusing on the game itself.

  Nash High’s team was winning, but only by a point and the timer was winding down. Their opponents had control of the ball. Sam had decently preserved his stamina and Rex had avoided fouls that game, so they were both on the court. Sam was chasing the ball when a teammate cut off the opponent’s path.

  He passed the ball to another from the other team, who held it and looked for openings. Then the first enemy repositioned and the ball-holder decided to pass it back. This was not the best move, as a Nash player intercepted the ball and passed it to Sam.

  At this point, Sam was too far from the net to shoot. The way there, however, was clear and he made a run for it. A couple players attempted to get in front of him, but he’d long since learned to evade. No one was in his way now, and the other team wasn’t fast enough to catch him.

  Eyes trained on the net, he kept going. Just a few more steps and he’d be in position to jump and dunk the ball. His legs ran on autopilot. His hands dribbled like an upside-down juggler. He pushed the ball down and… it didn’t come back up.

  Sam’s eyes left the net to search for the ball. Sure enough it was no fumble, the ball had been stolen. Rex ran in front of him with the ball. By other hands, the ball was dunked. Nash High’s score increased. He’d technically won.

  He looked around. His team was celebrating. Rex was doing some sort of primal victory scream. The coach was hesitantly disgusted.

  Sam looked down at the hands that had lost the ball. I can’t let that happen while Helen’s watching.

  The fact that Helen wasn’t showing up didn’t surprise Sam. This wasn’t because he’d lost hope that she might ever attend, rather it was because he’d only brought it up the one time. On the Monday following Rex’s theft he woke up intending to change this. That is, he woke up that day to some knocking and a loud

  “Sam! It’s time to get up!”

  He rolled out of bed and opened the door. Looking down at his father still felt weird.

  “What… ah… what time is it?”

  The father pointed at a wall clock in the hall. Sam’s eyes widened with a sudden awakeness. He shut the door and hopped out of his pajamas. By then he’d used the app to enlarge a few sets of his clothes so there wasn’t too much of a fitting search. He passed his father down the stairs.

  “There’s a sandwich on the table. Can’t be skipping breakfast the week before playoffs.”

  Sam nodded, gave goodbyes, snatched the sandwich, and ran for the schoolbus. Familiar worries went with him.

  What if I’m being too forward? (He only made two moves, neither very recently.)

  What if she hates me? (He had no reason to think she might.)

  What if she says no? This thought was the one which stuck. If she didn’t swoon at his basketballing or, worse, if she didn’t want to show up in the first place, then he had no follow up plan.

  He brought his worry into chemistry class. There was a lab that day. The students were grouped into pairs. Each pair was given four white powders and an acid. By seeing which ones dissolved in water and which ones didn’t respond even to the acid, the class was meant to figure out which was which.

  Sam was paired with a girl he didn’t know. He’d probably heard her name during attendance but it was a pretty big class. They put on goggles, collected the chemicals, and went back to the lab tables to do the experiment.

  The mechanical task failed to ease his apprehension. As he was squirting distilled water into one of four small test beakers, it started to overflow. Moreover, he only noticed this after his lab partner pointed it out.

  “It says we’re only supposed to fill them halfway,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re right.” I’m too distracted. I need to resolve this before I wind up spilling the acid or something.

  He looked down at his partner. On one hand she was a stranger. On the other hand, she was a girl so she may have more perspective on what Helen might be thinking. Moreover she was two grades older than he so she had the benefit of hindsight on her side.

  As he stirred a powder into the water, he started “Say, if someone asked you… um…”

  It seemed like a bit much to put on a stranger. He realized he didn’t really want to explain too much but, having started, he needed to improvise.

  “Like… if you were this powder and you didn’t dissolve in this first round, do you think you’d react to the acid?”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “...that’s the point of the second round isn’t it? Some will react and some won’t.”

  “Yeah, but if I were an acid I’d want to know which would happen in advance, you know.”

  “Uh… I mean… these look pretty similar. The instructions don’t give us any other way to tell them apart. Putting them in the acid’s kinda all we’ve got.”

  “So you’re saying we just need to put them in and see what happens?”

  “I… it’s a lab, that’s the point.”

  Sam nodded. “Maybe it’ll dissolve, maybe it won’t. Our only option is to put it in and see.”

  “...yes?”

  “Thanks, that really helps.”

  “...right.”

  In the end, no acid spilled. In the water round, only one of the four powders vanished into the liquid. It interacted similarly with the acid, seeming to disappear as it was stirred. One of the non-aqueous powders faded into the acid and another remained an inert pile at the beaker’s bottom. But the fourth powder reacted differently.

  As predicted by the lab sheet, one powder distinguished itself by doing more than just vanishing. This powder entered the acid and changed it as it went in. The acid started out as a clear liquid but, when this powder was stirred in, changed its color. In the end there were three beakers with clear liquid and one dark crimson solution.

  “Huh, that’s neat,” the lab partner said.

  She then proceeded to wash out the beakers while Sam was, again, distracted.

  Helen got out of biology class a few minutes early that day. She had a mild headache but, having not slept well the preceding night, thought nothing of it.

  The preceding class was still using the room when she arrived so she pulled out her phone to kill some time. It was practically bursting with unread notifications. Helen wasn’t stealthy enough to read through them in class, so her messages had piled up. Some skimming showed Sasha was still, weeks after first raising the topic, lobbying for the other two to try attending a basketball game.

  ????Becky: why us?

  ????Sasha: you’re my friends

  ????Becky: you have other friends, ask them

  ????Sasha: you don’t understand

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  ????Sasha: I already have

  Becky capitulated further later in the chat. Helen started typing a message when the bell rang and the students came trickling out of the room. Her phone landed back in her backpack and she drifted into the room.

  Taking her seat, she coughed a bit. It shook up her aching head, which was not fun.

  Being the first one to english class was surprisingly refreshing. The quiet empty room made a good setting to unwind a bit. People trickled in at a leisurely pace and it was a while before the din rose. And even when the class got noisy, this died down a fair bit when the severe Mrs. Doenitz began prepping papers at her desk.

  Sam entered a couple minutes before class started. From where Helen was sitting he was hard to miss, obviously. She caught his gaze as he walked, after which he quickly looked away.

  Back on her phone, she scrolled past a few more of Sasha’s messages before a connection was made. She tapped Sam on the shoulder. He jumped in his seat before spinning around.

  “Hey Sam, you’re on the basketball team right?”

  His eyes widened, his head nodded emphatically.

  She held up her phone and pointed at it. “A friend of mine is a pretty big fan of your team. I hear you’ve got a big game coming up?”

  “Yes. Playoffs. Big-tournament-start thing. I think. Yeah… Sports.”

  “Yeah, she says I should come see one.”

  “Oh yeah she’s right, I’d love it if you- I mean, ya know, coach says we should invite all our friends to show up. Like, as a ticket sales thing. Should be a good game though, I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”

  “Maybe. Well, I was thinking, I know you and you’re on the team and I’m sure this friend of mine would love to be introduced to your teammates.”

  “Oh. Umm… yeah. I guess… If you came to the game I could… we could do some introductions…”

  “Right, how about we meet right after the game?”

  “Sure.”

  She smiled, “See you then.”

  Returning to her phone, she started typing up a message to tell Sasha. Then she stopped. This’ll make a nice surprise.

  Pressure was on. The ball had just fallen into Sam’s hands. He took it in stride, ran up to the net, and took the shot.

  “Good one,” said the coach. “Keep that up and we may actually have a long season this year.”

  Sam nodded and continued solo practice. He wanted to make sure he could make shots from as many positions as possible. When solo practice ended, he made sure he was consistent with passing as well. The team’s main strategy up to this point had been to keep one of Sam or Rex on the court as often as possible and focus on getting the ball to one of them.

  The memory of the stolen ball echoed in his head. Coach had already chewed Rex out for that one, but Sam wanted a word with him about it. That is, he especially wanted to resolve that before the game with Helen attending.

  Practice ended. The players put the balls in a basket. Sam started approaching Rex when the coach pulled him aside. She kept him to talk about strategic positioning and movement for a few minutes. When he was released, he hurried into the locker room hoping Rex was still there.

  Luckily, he was. Moreso, he was the only one still there. Sam took a deep breath and started his approach. He noticed Rex had something written on his arm, but he couldn’t parse the handwriting. The bigger shock was on the phone in the hand at the end of that arm.

  Sam’s eyes widened. He’d recognize that app anywhere.

  Now completely sidetracked, he hurried over to his gym locker. It was at this moment that Rex noticed him and leapt to his feet.

  After a moment of panic, he growled “Hey, whatever you think you saw, it’s-”

  “Look!” Sam held out his phone.

  This sent Rex back down onto the bench.

  “It’s the same app! We’re the same! That’s so cool, isn’t it crazy?”

  “Uh-”

  “This explains so much! I was wondering why we were the only two guys our size on the team.”

  “Hey, listen-”

  “Did you notice the thing with the clothes? Well your clothes fit so you probably did, never mind that. Any idea what’s up with that one feature that makes 3D models?”

  Rex did know about “save body state”. He’d been using it to prevent the writing on his arm from fading after things like showers. This wasn’t what he answered with though.

  “I don’t know anything about that app.”

  “What app?”

  “That Bod.io thing.”

  Sam looked at the screen. “The name isn’t listed here.”

  “No fair! Er… fine, you caught me. Don’t get any ideas though, we’re not the same.”

  “But we’re doing the same thing in the same way.”

  “Well… it’s none of your business anyway.” Rex gathered his belongings.

  “But we could coordinate, work together better for the team.”

  “No,” he said. As he left, he gave a parting shot. “This doesn’t change anything. I’m still gonna beat you!”

  Sam gave the closed door his reply “...aren’t we on the same team?”

  On the day of the big game, Sasha and Becky arrived at Helen’s house to pick her up. When she didn’t immediately come out, they went in to go get her.

  Knock knock.

  “come in,” Helen croaked.

  They opened the door and found her on the couch just inside.

  “You ready?” Sasha said. “My dad’s waiting in the car outside.”

  “oh yeah. just let me go get my shoes on.” As Helen started to rise a pained look took over her face.

  Becky stopped her. “No you don’t.”

  “but… the game…”

  “Girl, you are in no condition to go anywhere.”

  Sasha protested, “But-”

  Becky merely gestured at the weak, pale, sickly creature before them.

  “Yeah, no, you’re right. She’d infect the whole stadium.”

  “n- no guys i’m fine,” Helen said. This then broke into a coughing fit that left her without the strength to rise from the couch. “ok you right.”

  Sasha shook her head. “That’s unfortunate. We’ll take lots of pictures and tell you all about it, okay?”

  “wait, i-” Helen considered telling her about the introduction plan with Sam, but couldn’t bring herself to mention this thing she wouldn’t be able to do. “nevermind, have fun.”

  Rex boarded the bus that day with determination. He’d spent the past week bulking up further and wasn’t about to let anyone upstage him at the start of playoffs.

  The team got off the bus at the stadium. They were then shepherded to pregame warmups and, after that, to a hype session with the coach. At one point he locked eyes with Sam. No words were exchanged, but he put as much venom into his glare as possible.

  Yeah, you! I can see you quaking in your shorts there. When the game’s through, you won’t have a point to your name. No one will. I’ll control the ball. I’ll control the score. With my new improvements nobody will be able to lay a finger on me. And once the game’s through… he checked his arm, everyone will know the name Rex!

  Sam thought it was an odd moment for a staring contest, but didn’t think much more of it.

  Pregame formalities then followed. Someone came clad in merchandise to deliver some snacks. Another came in and explained how the entrance of the two teams was going to work. Then a third came in to administer a last minute test.

  The coach had earlier told the team to hold off on restroom breaks if they could help it, and this was why. Cups were distributed and the students were told to collect their golden water at the earliest convenience.

  “We know you guys are just high schoolers, but after that business out east we don’t want to take any chances with drugs. We’ll run a basic screening on your samples for things like alcohol and cannabis, as well as some performance enhancers.”

  There was some waiting for the samples, but before too long the cups were sealed and taken away for testing. Waiting for the test taker to return was mostly a matter of mitigating boredom, though some of the older students on the team seemed a bit worried. After all, if the test came back positive their parents would be notified. Thus this small contingent was on the edge of their seats when the results came in. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when Rex was the one called up.

  Rex got up. “What is it?”

  “It’s probably nothing, the results just came back ambiguous. We’ll need you to take another test just to make sure.”

  The coach said nothing, merely eyeing him suspiciously. The three of them were shuffled into a separate room. Rex sat down and the test taker disappeared for a moment.

  “You haven’t done anything, right?” asked the coach.

  “Of course not!” This was true, he hadn’t used any substances.

  Returning, the test taker proceeded to draw a bit of blood from his arm. “Don’t worry, we won’t take enough to impact performance.”

  They then returned to the rest of the team to wait for the results. This waiting period carried a different tone. The coach’s suspicion had spread. Rex had gotten noticeably stronger, faster, and a bit taller over the past week. Questions of how this was possible were beginning to cast shade from behind some players’ eyes.

  Eventually the test taker returned. No announcements were given, rather hushed words were exchanged with the coach and Rex was called over to them.

  Whispering, “Rex, I want you to be honest with me right now. Have you ever taken steroids?”

  “What? No!”

  “Ma’am, that doesn’t matter. The policy is that if a player tests positive then-”

  “Yes, I understand that. I just want to hear it from him. Now, Rex. You’ve tested positive for steroid usage twice. No matter what you say, you won’t be able to play.”

  “But-”

  “But nothing! I just want you to be honest with me. Maybe you made a mistake because you care about the team. Maybe you thought this wouldn’t matter. Whatever it is, I want you to be honest. I’m asking again. Did you use performance enhancing drugs?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  She sighed and looked at him disgustedly. “Ok.”

  Rex looked around the room. His team had gone quiet when the conversation went serious. The last exchange had been heard by everyone. It showed on their faces.

  “Really, I didn’t!”

  He looked back at the coach. She shook her head. He wouldn’t be allowed to play.

  Fire came into his eyes. His teeth clamped shut and his fists tightened.

  Rex mumbled to himself. “You can’t do this.” He locked eyes with Sam. “You can’t do this to me.” He started walking forward. “This was going to be my day.” He raised his fist. “MY DAY, YOU HEAR ME?”

  The team had to hold him back from attacking. Rex thrashed about, knocking comrades off him as new ones came in to replace them. Sam, for his part, scrambled away to the other side of the room, utterly shocked.

  “You think we’re the same? Why me then? WHY ME?”

  Security was brought in and Rex was dragged away. Everyone went back to less agitated positions. The coach explained the situation, that they’d have one less player on the team this time. She asked Sam if he was okay. He nodded. As the room settled, a puzzled student came up to him.

  “What’s his problem?”

  Sam shrugged, still shaken.

  “Crazy that he roided up like that though. Dude was good, he wouldn’t’ve had to cheat.”

  “...cheat?”

  “Well yeah. Imagine you take a pill and it makes you good at basketball. Think how unfair that would be. Totally defeats the purpose of the game.”

  Sam had nothing to say to this. Instead of responding, he just sat and thought.

  Rex was telling the truth. He wasn’t using drugs, he was using the app. The app can make you stronger. But… if you tell it to do that, is that all that it does?

  He recalled how the app had made him better at holding his breath without him adjusting any such slider.

  Maybe if you make yourself too strong, it’ll put more chemicals in to make that strength more natural or something. Either way… he made himself stronger and traces of steroids appeared in his drug test. The test worked. I just didn’t go as far…

  “You okay dude?” The teammate was still there.

  “Hmm? Yeah.”

  Defeats the purpose… your purpose is different from mine.

  Cyborg’s phone buzzed.

  ????Helen: hey

  ????Cyborg: what’s up?

  ????Helen: you know Sam, right?

  ????Helen: like you two are friends?

  Oh damn he really is still on that.

  ????Cyborg: he didn’t do something, did he?

  ????Helen: no no

  ????Helen: I promised I’d come to the basketball game today

  ????Helen: but I’m sick so I can’t

  ????Cyborg: that’s too bad.

  ????Helen: yeah

  ????Helen: I’d like to tell him what’s up but I don’t have his info

  ????Helen: would you mind passing on the message?

  ????Cyborg: just that you’re sick?

  ????Helen: yeah

  ????Helen: that and

  ????Helen: actually yeah that’s it

  ????Helen: I’m sick, I can’t make it, the plan’s off, sorry

  ????Helen: ^^^ that

  Mechanically, all basketball games are equivalent. The balls, courts, nets, everything is standardized. Obviously the opponents aren’t, though, and there can even be variation in one’s own teammates. Further, as Sam found out the moment he walked onto the court, the audience can vary wildly. There is simply a difference between a panel of people off to one side and a sea of faces surrounding you.

  It made the crowd harder for him to look through. The coach left him on the bench at the start of the game, so he had a moment to scan. Too many faces were just indistinct grains in a pile. He couldn’t even spot his father, even with the guarantee that he was there.

  At a timeout the coach called him up. Sam would be blocking one of the bigger guys on the opponents’ team to give a teammate a chance to slip through. She substituted him in and he started onto the court. Before he got there, though, she put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Have fun out there, kid. Okay?”

  Sam nodded and assumed his position. The game proceeded as planned. Nash High passed the ball around until the moment the intended player got ahold of it. He started running and Sam attached himself to the target. Out of the corner of one eye he kept the target in check. On the opposite side he saw his teammate run past. Regardless he was still scanning the crowd.

  Then his eyes caught sight of another enemy. A teammate had let one of the opponents free and he was headed on a collision course with the ball. Sam dropped his block and sped over to stop the other player just before he cut off the ball. The runner cut a turn to avoid them and passed the ball to the one who had let the opponent go in the first place. One throw and the score went to Nash.

  Sam shook his head. That was close.

  The other team had control over the ball. Sam took a defensive position near the hoop. His teammates made a valiant effort to block the ball from crossing the court, but it wasn’t long before Sam’s position came into play. An opponent had the ball within shooting distance. Sam stood in front of him, ready to block the shot. Thinking he had the enemy under control, Sam’s attention split toward the crowd for a moment.

  He snapped back when the opponent jumped to shoot. Sam started to block it when he realized the guy’s hands were empty. The ball was not in the air. Another enemy had run behind the one Sam was pinning and the latter’s body had blocked the view of a pass. Sam started toward the other enemy, but when the ball came he couldn’t stop it from flying over his head. The other team scored.

  Nash had control over the ball. One player threw it to another, and another, until it landed in Sam’s hands. He was still over halfway across the court, but he didn’t care. Sam took the shot. It went in.

  With a free moment as the other team moved the ball, he glanced around. Off to the side, he locked eyes with the coach. She shook her head at him and he knew why. A shot from that far was reckless.

  He returned to the game and ran forward. An opponent initiated a pass, but didn’t see Sam coming and it was intercepted. From right there, Sam jumped up. His arms moved, but his eyes got caught on a flash of orange in the crowd.

  Is that her?

  The ball bounced off the backboard and into the enemies’ hands. Two passes and some running increased their score again.

  Controlling the ball, Sam’s team attempted the same pattern as before. Sam got the ball. It was bad timing, though, and his eyes were still trying to find what he’d thought he’d seen. He missed the net completely and the play that repeated itself was the opponents’.

  The coach called a timeout and pulled Sam off the court.

  “You need to stop doing that.”

  “What, I’m taking shots.”

  “Not those ones. I don’t care if it looks cool, you need to-”

  “I’m gonna go use the restroom.”

  On the toilet, he put his head in his hands. He was exhausted and she was right. He was making shots he knew he couldn’t make. If only I was more accurate! He considered going over to his locker and getting out his phone. But the app only activates when I’m asleep.

  The image of sleeping pills came into his head. He didn’t have any, but the idea that he could just pop some, fall asleep, and then have the app wake him up the moment it activated was tantalizing. Only for a moment though. The next moment a shiver went down his spine. Rex’s screaming voice rang through his mind: “You think we’re the same?” We are the same, in one way at least.

  He shook his head. Focus.

  Returning to the bench, his eyes went back to the patch of crowd that had tripped him up. At last he spotted the flash of orange hair. Beard hair. It wasn’t Helen.

  He sighed and put his face in his hands.

  The coach noticed. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just… distracted.”

  “Don’t worry. We may be down a man, but getting this far is more than some guys on the team were even hoping for. It’s tough, but this is a good game and I think we can beat it.”

  “Who’s winning?”

  “Them at the moment but it’s close.”

  A buzzer rang. Points went to Nash.

  “Now it's us. See? Close.”

  The game went on. Sam’s side kept strong, lost their lead, then gained it back. Halftime came and went. The clock started to wind down and Sam got up.

  “Put me back in.”

  The coach nodded and made the substitution.

  Sam started with the ball. She said she'd be here, so I've just gotta trust her. Let's give her something to see. He signaled to another teammate and ran the ball around a bit so that the enemies would gather near him to block. Then he jumped up. It looked like he was taking another long shot at the net, so the opponents braced themselves for a rebound. That was the trap, though, because it was a pass. Sam's teammate caught the ball and dunked it.

  As the game progressed, Sam pushed himself harder than he ever had. His team followed suit. They coordinated plays within plays. He pushed his legs to send him farther than he’d ever gone.

  But it wasn’t enough to widen their lead. When the clock hit zero, the scores matched. Five minutes of overtime were added to resolve the tie.

  Both teams battled furiously over the ball. Passes were being intercepted left and right. Sam’s team had the ball but fumbled it. The other recklessly replicated Sam’s long shot and missed. Tensions were high.

  One of Sam’s teammates got the ball and started running. One swarm moved to stop him, but the other parted the seas. A single enemy chased Sam’s teammate.

  The clock ticked down.

  Sam rushed into the fray.

  His teammate jumped and tossed the ball.

  The enemy leaped, barely in position to knock it away.

  But Sam caught it just in time. Mere seconds later he smashed the ball into the hoop.

  The swish of the net, the noise of the buzzer, and the roar of the crowd all blended into each other. He’d barely won.

  Chests were bumped. Hands were shaken. The sound was the kind they tell you not to blast on headphones. Some booming voice probably announced the winner, but the players couldn’t hear it over their own celebration.

  Then Sam moved and assumed another strategic position just outside the locker room door. There he waited.

  Oh man, I hope she saw that.

  And waited.

  The crowd’s leaving, so they should come any moment.

  And waited.

  It wouldn’t hurt if I ran in and grabbed my phone right? Like even if they show up, as long as they wait out here as planned I’ll meet up with them in no time.

  He ran in and opened his locker. A scantily clad athlete came by and slapped his back.

  “Good game out there man!”

  Sam nodded, retrieved his phone, and resumed his position. Before long he leaned back and started looking through his phone. He had a message.

  ????Cyborg: Hey, so Helen told me to tell you that she’s sick and couldn’t come to the game today. She also said something about a plan being off and didn’t elaborate, I assume you understand what she meant.

  The lean dropped into a sit. Real convenient.

  “What’re you doing down there?” It was the coach. “We’re gonna board the bus soon.”

  “I’m… uh… I’m waiting for… I guess I’m not doing anything, sorry.” He got up.

  “Don’t be sorry, that was a good showing out there.”

  He shook his head and turned to get the rest of his things from the locker.

  “I couldn’t do it.”

  “Do what?”

  He shrugged and passed her. “Have fun.”

  Over the next few days in class, Helen’s illness verified itself through her absence. Sam felt a mix of bads, one for having wasted all that effort and the other for having doubted her upon first seeing the message. He missed a few practice sessions before he saw her again.

  English class that day was busy and he didn’t get a chance to talk to her. Mrs. Doenitz then kept him briefly after class to discuss his recent performance. She reminded him that sports were no excuse to skip studies and he agreed as quickly as he could.

  Sam found Helen outside the building and approached her. She spoke first.

  “Oh, Sam. I’m sorry about the other day, I could barely get out of bed.”

  “Yeah… I got your message. Say, mind if I ask you a weird question?”

  “Uhm… I guess?”

  “Would you say… um… so guys. If a guy was more athletic, like a stronger, faster, better at sports type… would you be into that? Totally hypothetical, of course.”

  “I… it’s not a bad thing but… I guess I’m not really… No offense of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I guess that’s just not really my thing. Again, it’s not like a bad thing, I just… um…”

  “No, I get it.” He turned and walked away. “I… I get it.”

  Helen saw how he was taking it and opened her mouth to say something to try to make him feel better, but nothing both gentle and honest came to mind. As he walked away, a couple slack-jawed girls emerged from a distance behind him.

  Becky was the first to speak. “What did you just do?”

  “What? Uh, I told him… Remember when you said something like jocks aren’t our type?”

  “No… no way…”

  Sasha was up next. “Do you know who that is?”

  “Yeah, that’s Sam. I think you actually met him the first day.” Helen cringed at the memory. “Becky, you said he was too short to-”

  Becky shook her head, “Nope. Nope. That’s not who I… Nope.”

  “Do you think you could introduce me?” Sasha asked.

  “I don’t think now is a good time.”

  That night, Sam visited his mother in the basement. When she noticed him coming she took off her headphones and put them on the desk in front of her.

  “Hey Sam what’s up?”

  The first response that came to mind was “not my grades” but that would’ve been too direct. Instead he went with, “Just got something you should probably see.”

  He told her to log in to the school’s parent portal to check his grades. She was silent for a moment as she took them in.

  “Sam, this… is not good.”

  “Yup.”

  “You remember what I said about sports and grades?”

  “If I can’t keep them up, no basketball?”

  “Right.” She observed him a moment longer. “You don’t seem too torn up about it.”

  He shrugged. “It didn’t do what I was hoping it would.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Do… you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” He turned to leave. “You’ll tell Dad about this?”

  “Sure, I’ll let him know at his midnight break. And Sam?”

  He stopped.

  “You know you can talk to me about anything right?”

  “I guess.” He walked out of view. “I love you Mom.”

  “I love you too.”