I was sprinting as fast as I could down the wooden floor. The court echoed my, and my other teammates' footsteps with soft pitter- patters and occasional squeaks as rubber from the bottoms of shoes slid against the polished floor. The other team followed close, the ball bounced up and down off of their shooting guard's hands, as she made her way toward the basket.
There was no time for thinking as I glanced at the score board. The score was in their favor; 54-56. 10 seconds of the final quarter of play was left. There was no turning back now.
The girl with the ball was right in front of me. I could see it in her eyes that she was going to shoot. We leapt up into the air at the same time, but unfortunately for her, I was a few inches taller, and smacked the ball out of the air,mid jump, and successfully blocked it.
The crowd began to chant numbers counting down from five, as I recovered the loose ball and ran down the court. Once the crowd yelled two, my coach screamed, "Shoot!". I immediately obeyed and single handedly launched the ball from the halfcourt line. The buzzer sounded just barely after I shot.
A million thoughts went through my head as I watched the ball soar into an arch and barrel downward. If I make this shot, our team would make it to the finals for the first time in eight years. Scouts from colleges would be there, looking for rookies that actually stood a chance in possibly the WNBA, every female basketball player's dream. And to top it all off, it's being held in Ooo.
The ball slammed through the net with a swishing sound and the ball bounced against the floor, causing the audience to yell, clap, and even squeal in pleasure as the final score was recorded as 56-57, signaling our victory. My team jumped for joy and surrounded me. I was still star- struck, watching the hoop, to notice they embraced me and we all jumped together,laughing, clapping, and cheering.
The coach found her way into the crowd, looking for me. "Marcy, that was so lumping amazing!" She yelled over the crowd. Heads nodded to agree in the mini crowd we'd formed on the court.
"Pssht, that was nothing", I joked toward my coach.
"Try explaining that to one of the scouts next week!" She joked back, as everybody on the team laughed.
"You know I would", I said, wearing my signature smirk, and following the others to the locker room. The man in charge of the game yelled out the team's players and our stats based on tonight's performance, into a microphone on a podium.
We all listened as we changed out of our blue and white jerseys. I was number 24, same as my father, who also went to NightoVille High School. Basketball ran in the family.
Our coach told her signature speech, followed by more cheering by the team, until we were finally released into the night.
The school's parking lot was filled with cars and unfamiliar faces that must've come to watch the other team as well. I was opening the door to my car, when I saw her.
She was alone, walking from the building. What caught my attention was her pink hair. I kind of reminded me of,"Bonnie?" I thought out loud. She looked like she was in a hurry, but dispute her rush, she stopped, and looked my way.
"M-Marceline?" She asked, walking my way.
"The one and only", I said, smirking.
Bonnibel Bubblegum was her name, but surprisingly she recognised the nickname I gave to her in 7th grade. We went to middle school together, but my dad and I moved to NightoVille after I graduated from eighth grade. She had been my childhood best friend, for we met in kindergarten. I felt bad through the years, never saying goodbye.
She opened her mouth to say something, but was instead greeted by other friends, possibly, and pulled away. Before she turned around to walk with them,we shared a quick stare and continued on with our lives.
The drive home was longer than usual. All I could think about was the never ending guilt that I've gone through every day, thinking about how she must've felt after I left for NightoVille. She must've still lived in Candy Town if she rooted for the other team, The Candy Caramels.
As soon as I pulled into the driveway, I was surprisingly met with my dad's car. He must've been back from his business trip. It's an understatement saying he was ALWAYS on trips, but I've learned to be independent throughout the years, since my mother had passed when I was five from the war.
But I did have a babysitter that I particularly enjoyed growing up. He inspired me to play instruments, and love music the way I do now. But now he is older and has developed Alzheimer's Disease and doesn't remember me as a child. I still tears me apart when I visit. Thank Glob he still remembers my name. Simon Petrikov is one different old man.
As I walked in, my dad try to start a conversation, but I brushed him off and told him I wanted to relax. Whenever my dad was home, the most we'd talk would be about the weather. I didn't find him very respectable, considering he's the CEO of a company with dark secrets. He even wants me to take over the business!
The pink haired girl crept into my mind as I lay in bed, as I fell into slumber, filled with thoughts of my childhood with the girl I loved most, in a friendly manner of course, or at least up until eighth grade...
(A/N: Hi! This is my first fanfic, and I'll try to update daily, or every other day. Well anyway, hope you enjoy)
