Page 3 of Bad Habit
Shouts rose from the next court, where a group of kids were playing. A couple of boys who looked about ten or eleven were shouting and shoving each other. Every instinct inside me wanted to prevent this fight, too. But it was none of my business.
The tallest girl, the whitest white girl I had ever seen, stepped between the fighting boys. Girl was either brave or stupid. She looked older than the boys, maybe sixteen or seventeen, but still… Those kids would crush her. I walked over to the fence dividing the two courts.
The girl’s hair was so blond it was nearly white, and her skin wasn’t much darker. It was a wonder she hadn’t turned beet red in the unexpected sunshine. She must be drowning in sunscreen, and I figured her pale complexion also explained her long-sleeved shirt, buttoned all the way to the neck. Didn’t explain her too-baggy pants, though, which looked five sizes too big for her small frame.
One of the boys shoved the other, and the girl caught an elbow in the cross fire. She staggered back a few feet.
“What’s going on?” I sped toward the gate between the two courts. “Don’t you know there’s no pushing in basketball?”
“Mac!” A kid who lived in Shady Oaks, my apartment complex, ran toward me. I hadn’t noticed him in the group before.
“Hey, Jeremy.” I draped my arm over his shoulder when he reached me, and we walked toward the top of the key.
The girl turned, her bright blue eyes wide and her mouth open. Her cheeks pinked in a fast, hard blush, and when our eyes almost met for a split second, she cast hers down like she’d been caught watching porn.
“Who’s winning?” I asked when I reached the two boys who were fighting.
“We are!” both kids said at the same time.
“A tie, then.” I planted myself between to them. “You guys need a referee?”
“Thank you very much for the offer.” The girl raised her chin. “But I’ll kindly ask you to return to your own playing field.”
“Playing field?” I chuckled.
Now I was closer and I’d heard her voice, I realized she wasn’t a kid. She was young, but not that young, and clearly considered herself in charge of this group.
“It’s called a court, Sister!” Jeremy said.
I leaned down toward the kid. “She’s your sister?”
Jeremy laughed. “No, she’s a sister. You know…” He shook his head.
“Oh!” The realization struck me fast. “Sorry, Sister.” That explained the modest clothes. “I haven’t seen you at St. Iggy’s. You new there?” As if I knew all the nuns. Ha!
She startled at my question, but her expression shifted one notch from hostile toward friendly. Still pretty far on the hostile side, though. At least wary. Maybe fearful? Time to turn on the Downey charm.
I crouched down to Jeremy’s height. “How about you vouch for me with the sister,” I said. “Tell her I’m a stand-up guy?”
“Like a comedian?” Jeremy asked.
“Stand-up guy means that you know me. That there’s no stranger danger, or anything like that.”
“Oh!” Jeremy’s face lit up and he turned toward the nun. “Sister, it’s okay. I know this dude. He’s Mac Downey. He’s not a molester or nothing.”
“Or anything,” the sister quickly corrected, and Jeremy shrugged.
I straightened to my full height, and she stepped back like the movement had pushed her. Her blush deepened.
“How about it, Sister?” I smiled my warmest smile, but it was wasted—she kept staring at the ground. “How about I go grab my gym bag and shirt, and I’ll be the kids’ ref for a while. Give you a break.”
“I don’t need a break.” Her chin lifted, and for a split second I wished she wasn’t a nun. She was kind of cute, and there was something appealing about the mix of apprehension and defiance in her eyes—at least for the instant she’d let me look into her eyes.
“Come on, Sister…” one of the boys said. “Let Mac be our ref. You don’t even know the rules.”
“Yeah!” some of the other kids chimed in. “Please, Sister, please?”
“You suck,” a tall Asian kid said from behind her.
