First Scraps Of Power

"Okay shoot a 3 pointer for first possession. Sudden ****, " Doe says, challenging me to make it.

I'm not a good basketball player, as I've never really played it much. This means that my shot form is bad, and in general, my shots don't go in. Nevertheless, I take the ball, walk up to the 3 point line and launch a shot. Immediately my brain reacts. The shot felt...weird. Swish.

"Nice shot!" exclaims Doe, handing me the ball.

I'm too deep in thought to hear her, as I look at the ball in my hands. Could it be? I check the ball to her and decide to try again, immediately shooting, again from behind the 3 point line. Again, swish.

"Your on target today," laughs Doe, throwing the ball back.

I try again and make my third 3 pointer in a row. Then a fourth. I smile and joke each time, playing it off as luck. But I know better. My touch, my feel of the ball as it leaves my hand is picture perfect. I know I can make this shot all day if I wanted to, and maybe miss 1 out of 50 threes. I can also purposely miss, and I do so every now and then during our 1v1, just to keep off suspicion.

"When'd you get so good at basketball," says Doe as we walk out of class.

"I've always been this good" I say, grinning, "I'll see you in English?"

"Sure. See ya later!"