Paullina Simons: Red Leaves

A castle with knights, princesses, armor. A castle with servants and white linen. A castle with secret rooms and secret passages and secret lives. I have secrets, too, the girl thought, taking tentative steps on the wall. The princess in her white dress and shiny shoes has secrets.

‘Wait for me!’ the girl yelled, and bolted forward. ‘Wait for me!’

To our strongest drive,

the tyrant in us, not only

our reason bows

but also our conscience.

– Friedrich Nietzsche

The four friends had been playing two-on-two basketball for only a few minutes, but Kristina Kim was already sweating. She called time out and grabbed a towel. Frankie Absalom, the referee, and Aristotle, her Labrador retriever, both looked at her quizzically. She scrunched up her face and stared back.

‘I’m hot, okay?’

Frankie, bundled up in a coat, ski cap, and blanket, smirked. ‘What’s the matter?’ he teased. ‘Out of shape?’ Aristotle panted, blowing his dog breath out into the cold air. He was not allowed to move during the Sunday-afternoon games, and he didn’t, though in a canine form of rebellion, his tail wagged.

Jim Shaw, Conni Tobias, and Albert Maplethorpe came over. Kristina took a bottle of Poland Spring out of her Jansport backpack, opened it, poured water on her face, and then wiped her face again. It was a chilly day in late November, but she was burning up.

Jim squeezed Kristina’s neck. ‘What’s the matter, Krissy, you okay?’

‘Come on! Come on!’ said Albert. ‘What are you doing? Stalling for time?’

Kristina wanted time to move quicker, to fly till one o’clock when she was to meet Howard Kim at Peter Christian’s Tavern. She wanted to get the lunch over and done with, and she was so anxious about it she couldn’t think of anything else.

‘I’m out of shape,’ Kristina admitted to Frankie, ignoring Albert’s remark. She let Jim rub her neck. ‘The season’s starting next Saturday, and I’m terrible.’

‘No,’ Conni said. ‘You’re fine. Yesterday you were fine.’

Kristina waved carelessly, hoping no one would notice her flushed face. ‘Oh, that was just an exhibition game.’

‘Krissy, you scored forty-seven points!’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But Cornell wasn’t playing all out.’

‘I didn’t know they knew how,’ said Jim, now massaging her shoulder.

‘What time is it, Frankie?’ Kristina asked.

‘Twelve-oh-seven.’

‘Come on, you guys, let’s play,’ said Kristina. ‘The teams?’

The first game was couples against couples. Albert and Conni against Kristina and Jim.

‘You okay, dear?’ Jim asked, touching her back.

She thoughtfully looked at him and stroked his cold cheek.

‘Nothing. Hot as hell.’

Conni shivered. ‘Yeah, I’m sweatin’ myself.’ Squinting at Conni, Kristina smiled, thinking, she’s teasing me. Conni did not smile back. Biting her lip, Kristina said to Albert and Conni, ‘You guys want a handicap?’

They half-mockingly sneered. ‘Get the hell out of here with your handicap. Put your hair in your face. That’ll be our handicap. Besides, we’re going to win,’ said Albert. Conni didn’t say anything.

They lost 20-16.

Kristina was a tall, long-legged girl with a mass of jet-black hair falling into her face and halfway down her back. She didn’t like to tie her hair back. Her raven mane was a distraction to the other team, and during the Ivy League play-offs she had been ordered to tie it up. She did, but by the end of the game the hair was all over her face anyway.

Here on the driveway of Frankie’s fraternity, Phi Beta Epsilon - one of the least notable frat houses on Webster Avenue or Frat Row, as the Dartmouth students called it - Kristina never tied her hair. They played at an old regulation post with a rusted, netless hoop. Kristina didn’t care. Two-on-two was great practice for her. It made her quicker.

Today, however, her hands were slippery; they kept dropping the ball, which even the five-foot Conni intercepted from her. Kristina tried to pass the ball from one hand to the other behind her back but she failed completely, and Conni and Albert got the ball and the shot. They all laughed at her, but Kristina’s mind was on Howard; she didn’t laugh back. Usually she could spin in the air as she jumped up to sink the shot. Not today, though she was clearly the best player out of the four.

At the end of each successful shot, Kristina high-fived Jim and held on to his fingers the way she always did. He let her, but the moment she let go, he let go also.

Kristina chewed gum as she played. Once when she came down hard on her feet, she bit her tongue. She spit out the gum and some blood with it.

Frankie kept penalties, shouted fouls, and kept score on a Post-it note. Chewing gum, he sat on a folded blanket, legs drawn to his chest. His ski cap was pulled over his ears.

When they came back to him, Kristina asked the time.

‘Fifteen minutes after the last time you asked me,’ Frankie said. ‘See, each game is fifteen minutes. That’s how I know. In a hurry?’

‘No, no,’ Kristina said hastily, pouring water all over her face.

‘Come on, let’s play.’

‘Give us a break!’ exclaimed Conni. ‘Five minutes.’

‘No, I’m pumped,’ Kristina said. ‘The teams?’

Conni looked at Kristina levelly. ‘Gee, Krissy, I don’t know. What do we usually do after Albert and I lose to you?’

‘We play the boys?’

‘Now that’s an idea.’

Kristina wasn’t going to let Conni’s peeved sarcasm get her down. ‘Great. You boys need a handicap?’ Conni was her handicap, but Kristina would never say that out loud.

Jim pushed Kristina against the basketball pole with his shoulder. ‘I have a good feeling about this game,’ he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She turned his face toward his and tried to kiss him on the lips, but he moved away from her. There was coolness in his eyes.

He’s upset about last night, Kristina thought. Later. Later.

Kristina and Conni beat Albert and Jim 18-16. ‘Wow, you boys came very close,’ Kristina said when the game was over. Jim’s game was off. He ran a little slower, threw the ball a little lower, and didn’t intercept the ball from Kristina or block her. She could almost swear Jim was gritting his teeth as she played, but then she wrote it off as her guilty imagination. Then what is that crunch underneath his jaw with every dribble of the ball? Kristina thought.

‘Don’t you patronize us, Miss All-Ivy,’ said Jim. ‘After we’re done here, let’s run a mile and see who’s gonna come close to who.’

Kristina thought she could run a mile in four flat right about now. What’s the time? What’s the time?

‘What’s the time, Frankie?’

From his sitting position, he glanced up and handed her the watch. Twelve forty-three. Kristina was wet from sweat. Seventeen more minutes.

In fifteen minutes, Kristina and Albert beat Conni and Jim 40-8. Kristina ran after every ball, marking and blocking even Conni, whom Kristina usually left alone. As if running faster would make the time go faster.

‘Good game,’ Kristina said afterward, breathing hard.

Conni said, ‘I really prefer basketball as a spectator sport. Like when I go to see Krissy kick Crimson’s butt.’

‘Yes, but you’re a good sport, and that’s the only thing that matters,’ said Kristina.

‘Is it? The only thing that matters?’ Conni asked pointedly, looking at Kristina. ‘Me being a good sport?’

‘Sure,’ said Kristina noncommittally.

Albert stepped in. ‘No,’ he said, putting his arm around Conni and smiling suggestively. ‘There are plenty of other things that matter.’ That made Conni smile and allowed Kristina to grab her backpack off the brown grass.