"My legs..." Lyza groaned, flicking her left foot to stretch the tendons, "They feel like they're gonna fall off."
P.E. was no fun today. Right after warm-ups, the coaches opened the garage doors, letting in the frigid air, and made all the kids run laps around the courtyard. Not small laps either; big laps, all the way out by the fake baseball diamonds and the far-away monkey-bars that were all sun-baked-smooth metal.
After three laps, which took about five minutes each, as the kids returned it was free-play in the gym. While they had been out burning off all the chocolate and other stuff, the coaches rolled out the tumbling mats, set up the balancing beams and vault-box, lowered the pegs in the peg-board, undid the cargo net and pulled out a fresh-leather-smelling basketball.
Emeral and Ket were waiting for Lyza, who took a little longer to get her last lap finished, but once she managed to catch her breath, all she wanted to do was rest.
"You don't even wanna tumble?" Emeral asked. "You sick or somethin'?"
"I'm allergic to running." She muttered, taking after her brother. "You guys go ahead, if my heart doesn't a'splode I might do a couple tumbles."
With an eye-roll Ket and Emeral began figuring out what they wanted to do while Lyza went to rest against the wall.
"Whatchya wanna do?" The white tigress asked.
"I dunno," the orange one replied back.
"No chin-up bars. You could do the peg-board, I bet you'd be good at that."
"We're supposed to keep low-pro," he commented, looking around, "That means no showing off. Besides, I haven't done pull-ups in months."
"I certainly hope you haven't worn diapers for months." She teased under her breath. "Well, then...can I try the balance beam?"
"Sure. I'll watch, but try not to show off."
She jabbed him. "Party poop. I'm not that talented anyway. Kim is the gymnast, look."
While Emeral got in line, Ket watched as Squeaky Kimberly, who had taken off her shoes, began readying and then executed a cartwheel on the high balance beam. As soon as she did so, one of the coaches whistled at her. The noise caused her to squeak and fall, which in turn caused the line—Emeral included—to laugh.
Ket departed away as Emeral drew close to being next. He went to the cargo net and started climbing. It was a little difficult, because the net had very large holes through which probably even a seventh-grader would fall through. But, shakily, he managed to climb halfway up and turned around so he could watch his currently-friend.
Unlike Kimberly, Emeral's legs were very stiff and rigid as she carefully swung her feet, arms held to press against imaginary walls. If dodge ball was a test of her skills, this was a test of her control; the former she had a good bit of, the latter she had barely any. Halfway across the beam, she leaned far left, and tried to compensate but overshot it. Her left arm twirled as she tried to regain control but she ended up slipping and falling onto the mat below.
Ket noted that this time the crowd did not cheer. Instead there were chuckles and ha-has and tongues and maybe even a middle finger—or maybe picking a booger. Ket cringed; definitely picking a booger.
Before Emeral came over, he purposefully swung through one of the gigantic holes, dangling his feet a little before he let go and landed on the safety mat. When he met up with his friend they were near the back corner of the gym, where the peg-board climbers were constantly falling off at the top to make the coaches have to get up and put the pegs at a reasonable height.
"I had a nice trip," Emeral said, "I'm sure you got to see."
"You swung your feet out too far, you have to keep yourself from moving so wide."
"Oh really Mr. Smarty?" She crossed her arms, "Well why don't you just go up and show me?"
"Ye' Kit. Wh'donchya?"
Both tigers' eyes flashed toward the voice. Ritzer stood, leaning against the wall, half-grin on his face. His large red nose, which was normally pink, looked like a bruised raspberry leaking mucus. He wiped a strand on his arm, sniffled, and swallowed.
"Too much snot in your head?" Emeral jibed, "His name is 'Ket' remember? It's spelled kay-ee-tee; you remember what letters are don't you?"
Ritzer used momentum to push himself away from the wall. "'tuh-may-duh,' 'tah-mah-dah,' he said as he stepped close enough so that he could talk low and only they could hear him. He pointed at first him, and then her. "Boyfriend. Girlfriend."
Emeral's face visibly changed, but not by much; a quiver of the eyes, tightening of the lips, twitch in the nose and a few uncontrolled blinks. Ket's face was unchanged, save for the narrowing of his pupils.
"Your brain frozed over." Emeral replied, hiding the tremble in her voice pretty well and crossing her arms to keep them from shaking.
"Ya wish it did," the lion replied smugly. "But i'ss pretty warm. An' I think you two tryin' to hide it too."
"We don't have anything to hide from y—”
"Emeral," Ket spoke softly. "There's no point."
"You're right. Let him believe what he wants, he'll look dumb—”
"No, Emmy, that's not what I mean."
"Y'shud listen t'yer 'man' an' shud-up bitch."
Emeral's eyes looked like two red-eyed peas. "What'd you—” She tried to charge forward but Ket foiled her motion; she was held in check by his arm and leg. In a low growl Emeral said, "Let me at him," but she didn't push her boyfriend aside when he didn't heed.
"So, what?" Ket asked, seemingly undeterred at Ritzer's knowledge. "We don't really care if you tell people. We just wanted to keep it quiet so—”
"Bull-shit." Ritzer said, pleased he could cuss so frequently. "I had all Chrism's think-a this shit. Rini come up wid'Emera' likin' someone. Then you come all hero on'er in the bathroom. Even a idi't coulda put that togeder."
"Well obviously since you managed to." Emeral hissed.
Ritzer shook his head. "Nah. I ain' tellin' nobody. Cuz guess w'at?" He smiled, "Your secret bigger'd'n mine. So here's what I'm think, see, all this time I hav'n' been a good'nuff bully. All cuz'a arr stubid deal. But guess what Kit-Kat-Bar? You ain' puttin' out like ya used ta'. So I'm thinkin' I'll start bein' a better bully, y'know like th' ol' days? Remeber th' ol' days?"
"That's not going to work Ritzer." Ket replied. "I'd rather people knew about me and Emeral over...th' ol' days."
Ritzer chuckled. "Man Kit. You ain' got it no more, do ya? Bein' wi'dat ho made you soff' and dumb."
Emeral didn't have to be held back by Ket this time. She understood now that Ritzer was trying to pique her anger. He was doing a damn good job at it, but she was stronger than that.
"No one gotta know you two are togeder. See, I'm thinkin', hey, y'know, you ged'in my way or, spread my little secret, one-a m'boys...well maybe they accidentally pick a fight around Emmy here an' she get a little hurt."
"Tsh," Emeral shook her head, "Nice try, Ritzer. I can whoop Goren's ass any day."
"Hey, now, watch yer tongue lil' pus-sy cat." He replied with a leer.
Doing a damn good job.
"Still," he continued, "Maybe I don't wan' m'boys takin' that risk. Maybe they pick a fight near—what's-er-name? Bitchy-ya?"
* * *
Lyza watched the basketball game. It was a half-court game; half-court rules. If someone stole the ball they had to run to the middle-court, behind the solid straight line, and then back in to take the shot for it to count. There were no technical fouls; there were no fouls. Heck, there may not have even been teams for all she knew. She only knew that one rule about running to middle-court because she heard them fuss over it so much—of course when Virgil broke it, it was okay.
As the game raged on, other kids started coming in through the garage doors, finishing up their laps. Lyza was happy about her timing; she was only a few minutes behind Emeral. Ket was way ahead of them both, in fact he lapped her once. But even then, Virgil—the star athlete of the school—lapped everyone. Being a cheetah must be nice, she thought; All that speed and age..agi..agety... She huffed at not being able to think of the word. Not like me. I'm only fast on the ice and even then I fall over like a...whatever-with-a-z-at-the-end. Otherwise I'm as slow as a—
"Pan...Da?" She asked.
The boy looked over at her. He was sitting a few feet away on the wall, a support pillar between them, but she recognized his big flat shoes.
"Pan Da, right?"
"Actually..." he muttered, for the first time that day, "My name's Robert."
Lyza took that as an invitation—she stood up, lactic acid making her bones creak and amplifying the effects of gravity at least a hundred-billion times, and went to sit on the other side of him. "Then why did Ms. Hupp say your name was Pan?"
"Cuz that's what grandpa put on the stupid form," he replied. "But that's not his fault." He looked up toward the basketball game, almost like he was zoning out. Then he started talking again, playing with his shoe; "And actually, he got the first and last names mixed up anyway. Pan is really my last name, so I'm Da Pan."
"Oh. So...is 'Da' 'Robert' in another language?" She asked.
He shook his head. "It means 'older'. My younger brother, Kenny, is sometimes called Xiao Pan. 'Xiao' means 'younger'."
"Oooh..." Lyza replied, a little afraid of a vocabulary lesson. "My family speaks another language, sometimes, too. But they don't call me anything like that. My name is Lyza. Lyza Alatyrtsev." she extended her hand; he shook it after a second of hesitation, as if extremely reluctant to let go of his shoe lest it walk off of his foot. "Most people pronounce it like Liza if they read it, but my family has always called me 'Little lits-ee-ya'. I like that way better, but I get made fun-of sometimes."
"At least it's just sometimes."
There was a moment's pause as the rabbit had to figure out what he meant—even going so far as swiveling her ears back in concentration. "Well... I didn't mean it like that, Robby."
The boy smiled. "Just call me Panda. I only make a big fuss about it cuz that's what people expect." He finally let go of his shoe. "I mean, whaddaya expect? A panda named Pan Da? That's almost like it's out of a story or something."
Just as Lyza was laughing, the basketball flew against the wall and nearly hit her in the head. She blinked wildly and stared out at the court. The kids were laughing—at how close of a call she came to becoming... decroperted?—and then the whistle blew, the coaches calling:
"Balls off the walls! Put it up it's time to go."
Followed of course by more laughter.
* * *
Ritzer stepped back as Emeral's eyes seeped lava. "Whoa, that's my cue," he said at the whistle, "Y'guys bedder hurry. Class's'over, y'know."
But as the kids started to file out the gym Emeral could only stare at the back wall in anger. Very quickly a hand fell on her shoulder.
"Don't let him get to you."
"Thass' up ta' you Ket-oh," Ritzer said, making them both turn around. "I'd watch m'friends if I weres you."
"If you had friends," Emeral muttered.
"C'mon, we should go," Ket said softly, pulling on her shoulder to coax her to move. But before he could turn, her feet snared one of his.
They had talked the night before, over the phone. They discussed about how to behave around school. They decided on not even trying to show any gestures that couples would—being alone together for too long, holding hands, hugging, least of all kissing. But Emeral came up with an idea that she first called a 'Pod-e-kiss', but because that sounded like 'potty-kiss' she called it a 'White Kiss' instead.
A little toe-touch meant a peck on the cheek. Slight enough so that they could tap each other's shoes while walking in the hall or outside and only they would know it wasn't on accident. But snaring one of the other's shoes between yours was a kiss on the lips, and right now she had him squeezed between her heels.
Were it not for the kids still gathered watching Beck dangle on the peg-boards, their presence at the back of the gym may have been noticed as odd, but as it was the coaches and eyes were more concerned with trying to get Beck down while he was trying to get to the top.
