I spoke too soon.
In the midst of celebration, someone behind me rushes down the stairs and onto the court. It’s a girl and she looks vaguely familiar. Wait, is that the team booster? Nadine? She turns around slowly, as if she were performing an act, and she’s holding something in her hand. Oh. My. God. Is that my f***ing check?! She must have gotten it from the coach’s office somehow.
She looks me dead in the eye with a smirk on her face before opening her big mouth. Don’t you dare, my stare replies. She makes the packed gym go instantly silent as she screams the one thing I was afraid of the whole night: the truth.
“If only you actually had real talent and not mommy’s money, maybe then you would get to play all the time.” Game over. Fury curdles in the pit of my stomach and fumes up my throat—I almost thought smoke was going to come out of my ears. Look at her, the local Priss Princess nosying her way into yet another person’s business. My son’s business. MY business. And she thinks she’s just going to get away with that? Negative.
Despite my boiling anger, one look at Chuck shatters me into pieces. He looks so defeated. Confused. Embarrassed. No, I think. I never meant to hurt you, honey. I just wanted you to have your chance to play. But before I can tell him this, he storms out the gym doors and I quickly follow. The silent packed gym is suddenly eerie and gives me goosebumps.
I chase Chuck out to the parking lot and he screams at me to leave him alone. I let him down. I let my son down. At that moment, as Chuck turns his back on me and begins walking home, I decide to seek revenge on that little priss if it’s the last thing I do.
***
*Scene background music: https://youtu.be/cpbbuaIA3Ds?t=229 (3:49 until end)*
I wait in an alley behind the back gymnasium doors and the sky starts to turn purple. Am I really about to do this? I ask myself. But the second I see Nadine walk out those doors, the fury returns and I reassure myself: Positive.
I let her gain some distance before I race toward her. She hears me behind her and tries to escape, but she doesn’t have enough time to make a run for it. I swing my purse in the air and whack her as hard as I can on the back of her head. She goes limp and falls to the sidewalk. Blood pools under her forehead and she doesn’t move.
“Game over,” I say to the corpse as I walk away.
artinternationalrejects.art.blog 