Joy:

Follow Joy as she breaks through her confined environment and finds self-autonomy.

Joy was momentary, a hot flash before the cold settled back in. A brief moment only captured through memory, fighting for survival as the days rolled and rolled and rolled. She was dangling upside down from a thick tree letting the desert breeze flow through her recently untwisted braids. Joy reveled in the sensation of the never-ending fall and inhaled sharply. Her world was upside down; a sky resembling a big blue ocean with white foam waves cutting through in peels. Green grass blades reached towards her eyes. She watched them; directly across the falling grass was the basketball court, surrounded by a channel of dirt and a fence, warped from years of withstanding the harsh winds of the high desert. It wasn’t containment, it was a border.

Three versus two—first to twelve—same time, as always—right after school. It was the only game she could watch without being berated for it, or dragged away. Joy rolled her eyes up into her head. They came back and focused on the game.

The two older boys were on one team together for obvious reasons: they were taller, leaner, and moved with more efficiency than the smaller three they faced nearly everyday—and—not to mention, they were assholes. Not in any endearing way. It was as if they wanted to ensure everyone else was beneath them. In a way, everyone was, but only because they were so tall.

She took in a breath of preparation then swung her torso back and forth. Joy used the momentum to swing backwards off the branches with a flip. The grass thudded then crunched as she stood eye level with Derryl and Shante as they set up yet another dunk—the third one that day. Two more points on the board.

Thadonk! Ten over five. Slammed right over Little D’s entire body. Derryl postured, then high-fived Shante. His shoulders slumped down when he spotted Joy staring at him from under the shade of the tree. Derryl looked away, then, rebuilt his confidence when he stared at the deflated faces of the younger boys they had just beat.

Joy stretched and walked over to the chainlink fence. She had a plan with the ten dollars in her palm. Meticulously procured when Mom hadn’t been paying enough attention to the contents of her purse. It was her ticket in.

But the game needed to finish first. Denying their brief celebration would upend their “cool” demeanors. Joy had tried, unfortunately to no avail, to join the game many times, but being nice and actually interested in the game never worked. They always had something slick to say about it. Fuck that nice shit.

Yet the dirt-green ten in her back pocket was heavy. A hidden pressure pushed down on her. Mom could have maybe used it to her own benefit, but that maybe dwindled the further distance Joy got from the game. Joy needed this.

Little D seethed when he saw Junior’s ankles bend like two L’s pressing together against Derryl’s rapid jukes. Little D jumped forward to intercept, but Shante bodyblocked him unexpectedly. Derryl jump shot, his form obtuse mid-air, swish. Game winning score—twelve to five.

Derryl was the loudest of the bunch, “Too E-Z. You all still suck ass.”

The older boys high-fived incredulously. This was her chance, Joy waved the two-fives in the sky and spoke aloud,“What about if something other than your ego was on the line? Feel the pressure?”

Shante’s eyes turned into saucers when he spotted the green streak flashing across the fence, “What ya’ mean?” All five boys walked up to Joy, cut off from her by the metal diamonds. Derryl was still dribbling his black ball, as black as gray can get, onto the concrete—bounce.

“Fuck you waving around cash for?”—bounce—Little D questioned Joy. His voice was shrill, and he never missed an opportunity to slip a curse word into any of his sentences. Especially when with his homies.

“A bet,” Joy said, her head cocked.

Bounce—Derryl snorted, “Sure.”—bounce—bounce, through his legs.

Everyone awaited her proposal, save for Ulysses—U, who attempted to snatch the ball from Derryl. Whoosh, Derryl swept up the ball and pushed his hyperactive hands away from him, “Hold up, damn,” He threw a chest pass from hell. The ball hit U’s arm and scattered across the concrete court. U ran after it while rubbing the red mark away from his skin.

Joy spoke with feigned reverence and a rapid pace, “Ten bucks—four versus two, whoever wins, takes it. Prove you earned this court, and that ball, A-Hole-sss.”

She gazed into Derryl’s eyes. He looked past her. An agreement quickly echoed amongst the rest of the boys, except for Derryl. He only grumbled and spun around back onto the court. He body blocked U and stole his ball back—bounce. He came back, scowling, “And why would we need to prove ourselves to you?” He bumped his fist against Shante’s shoulder, “I mean, right?”

Joy exaggerated her already arched eyebrows and scoffed, “This isn’t about proving, this is about real stakes…cash. Money. Can’t go pro without stakes. A-Hole.”

She put the dollar under her nose, “But if not I’ll just keep it for myself—screw all of you,” She crumpled the dollar.

Shante butt in, “Wait, wait,” he looked at Derryl like; what the fuck are you doing? Joy turned around. Shante reeled her back into the wager with a simple reply, “We hear you.”

Junior and Little D grunted in agreement while they exchanged rock-paper-scissors in the meantime. Junior was losing.

Joy dragged it on, “Ehh, I thought of a few things I could use this on in the minute ya’ll took.”

“Fuck off, let’s do it.” Little D jumped in, “You the one that suggested it, now we want to play.”

“Oh not today, that’s for sure. When I’m free.”

Derryl clicked his tongue with impatience, “Man, and we gotta’ wait?”

“Just—bro—Derryl, chill.” Shante slapped his arm this time, “So what’s the bet? Time don’t matter, especially for us. We good any day.”

“Saturday night. Us,” she grouped Little D, Junior, U, and her together with spider-like gestures, “Versus you two. First to—”

“Ten—this time. Make it easier on everyone, make it quick. It’s already bad enough the teams are uneven, no way we let ya’ll make it more points and make the game even longer—” Shante rebutted.

“—and tire us the hell out on top of that,” Derryl finished.

“Exactly.”

They dapped each other up without looking.

U snickered, “Ya’ll some cornballs. They think they Team-Rocket.”

Junior and Little D chuckled.

“Hell is Team Rocket?” Shante scrunched his face.

“The ball is Meowth!” U added. Junior and Little D roared.

Derryl shrugged then cut through the symphony of self-induced laughter, “Saturday then. We already beat most of ya’ll asses so be ready. Do something, or find your own ball. Ours is off limits—starting now.”

“We need to shake on it! And the dollar is mine, so I will be playing, or you can all fuck right the fuck off.”

There was hesitancy—the entire flock of boys froze like she had infected them with the knowledge that yes, there was a girl amongst them, wanting to play basketball. A reality not often reflected within that dry old desert.

Shante finalized the deal, “Fine.”

They all shoved their hands through the warped fence and shook her hand one by one.

“Deal,” Joy released the word like she had been keeping it trapped in her chest as she shook Derryl’s hand last.

“All right bums, fuck off. Shante and I going to practice, alone,” Derryl grinned. Little D rolled his eyes. Junior and U were already on the way out of the chain-linked border. They walked past her, except for Little D.

“See ya’ tomorrow then,” he waved. A small wave, looking more like the loose twist of his wrist. Joy was still grateful for it. She sent her own and looked at the court one last time before the trek home. They were already taking turns shooting. Three-pointer, three-pointer, three-pointer. Swish swish swish.

Derryl locked eyes with her, “Beat it. Can’t let you get any ideas.”

She bit onto a piece of her cheek to stop herself from ruining the whole wager with her mouth, “Whatever, little bitch,” she whispered to herself.

Mountains blocked out the sun from entering the dry basin of the desert. Long shadows slithered across the uneven terrain. All littered with wild weeds and the occasional oasis of grass. Everything was dry. Some would say dead.

She had to walk today. Didn’t matter, the more time away from the ‘pig-pen’ the better. Joy enjoyed her walks. Especially when the sky cast gray over the crooked lightpoles and potholes that accompanied the dirt paths she traveled. She liked the colorlessness of everything. It made things easier to see.

The night lights flickered on and cast Joy in yellow as she reached the final bend. She stood beneath the beam for a moment, wishing she had her own court, her own ball. Softly, a sigh escaped from her chest, and she kept walking, kicking the occasional pebble off her path.

A full house. Two sets of windows and a yawning wooden garage door that only ever absorbed the light, never reflected. The house sat in its own spot, surrounded by speckled dirt, no borders. A waving Joshua Tree stood lonesome off the left side of the front door. Sagging, tired, and as tall as Joy. She gripped the rusted handle on the lip of the garage door and yanked up. Groaning and wheezing, it opened, shaking dust onto the concrete flooring.

CC and Luna emerged from the shadows. Their arrival marked by long bounds in between their arthritis-shot joints which dragged their nails across the ground with each step. Joy pet both of them, giving both the same amount of love—and time. Three minutes of wagging tails and long sniffs.

She pulled a red cord falling from the ceiling, popping the drive shaft back into place. Tap. The door lowered with a rumble, as if it was coughing away more dust. Joy stretched, brushed her hand against the dogs one last time, and opened the door to the inside.

The cold smacked her cheeks and she inhaled slowly. Aromas of red chili beans and potatoes came soon after. Food. Joy nodded. Food. Noises of a full house met her in the hallway, she followed it; a living room and one set of stairs. Her younger sister greeted her first, always. From her own little corner of the living room, bundled with blankets, Yvonne, elated, waved and said, “Joy! Joy! I made something for Mom today, wanna see?”

“In a minute E, let me say hi and grab some chili. You have some?” Joy set her backpack down.

“No, I had some cereal.”

“Oh?”

“We had extra milk, mom said!” Yvonne stuck out her tongue.

“Hmm.” Joy walked into the kitchen.

“Sup bozos,” Joy threw a flippant peace sign at her two older cousins. Twins. Only difference was their demeanor. Two polar opposites.

“Joy,” Granny Chelle cleared her throat with her granddaughter’s name. Her voice beckoned silence and the twins went back upstairs.

“Gran. Quiet evening?”

“Ron and your mother went out. Everyone did what they needed.”

“Good.”

“Where have you been?” Her knitting needles clacked together.

“Out,” Joy rolled her eyes and put the bowl of chili in the microwave.

“Out, out. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“I see you in the microwave.”

“Joy.”

She spun around, “I was at school doing what I needed, what’s the issue?”

“Your Mom missing some money, just wondering if you happened to see it? Find it?”

“No Gran. Does it look like I need money for anything?”

“Hm. Guess not, but Jayda didn’t need money either before everything. Just keep an eye out girl. And watch your damn tone.” She shook her head, “Go ahead and eat. JAYSEN!” Her voice boomed with a sudden ferocity.

Joy turned around and yanked her bowl out of the oily abyss. Thump-thump-thump, Jaysen raced down the stairs. “Hey Joy,” Jaysen threw up a peace sign.

“Throw the trash boy.”

Joy sat down, “Need my board back too.”

“Sure. Thanks again, Joy.” He stooped over the brimming black can.

“Should’ve been out hours ago, come on. Remember what you need to do. Have fun after. Correct?”

“Correct, Granny.” Jaysen lifted the bag and it emerged with a pop.

“Correct, girl?”

Joy clenched her jaw, thrice, “Yes. Correct.”

She ate. She rinsed her bowl, soaped it up, scrubbed it, and did the rest of the bowls, forks, spoons, pots, pans, and the double sink itself. Wiped down dry. Spotless.

“Well enough,” Granny said as she inspected it.

“Thanks. . .” A moment passed. Granny opened her mouth but closed it, then nodded softly. She walked back to her rocker. “I’ll see you in the morning, Gran.”

“Yes. In the morning then.”

Joy nodded back.

Her room was warm. The heater already burning orange and casting its open maw onto the space between her bed and her older sisters. Jayda’s bed was strewn with blankets and empty spaces. Sometimes clothes—whenever she was there. Joy looked away with a small sigh.

Towards her corner; a ball of stuffed animals, thrown pillows, and two big blankets. Pffffh. The danger, the anxiety, the tension, the rush of the day whisked away.

A ceiling of popcorn. Joy always likened it to foam—or the sea. Somewhere open. Somewhere free.

Her homework was simple. Comprehension questions and a poem. She blew through history. World War Two, Axis and Allies, the whole of it all. Rather easy if you went through and actually read the textbook.

But the poem was where her difficulty lay in. Joy had no idea where to start. The directions read: Write a poem in any way you would like.

The freedom was paralyzing.

Anyway? Anyhow? Joy wasn’t sure where to begin. Her pencil hovered over the paper. What about all the pentameters and the stanzas? Does it even matter? She inhaled—music. First, music. She let the night surround for a moment before getting up. Crickets near the window, a soft breeze billowing the curtains made from dark bed sheets. Peaceful.

A cylinder shaped rainbow tinted speaker sparked on with the faintest blip. Her iPod connected and whisked her away into The Gits—You’re Twisting and I’m Still Breathing. Grungy, dirty, and hard. It permeated the room. Back into her corner. Pencil above paper. She let her thoughts run across it. Slowly at first:

Loud sounds wack my ears on.

Mind full of haze and I need to get on.

With it.

Where to go from here?

Shoes and fingers feel like cement.

Knock, knock. Joy froze, her eyes on the door. It opened, pushing against the night air softly. The curtains twisted and Joy formed a scowl. Who could POSSIBLY—

Jayda’s head peeked inside and she was already smiling at her little sister. Joy leapt up to an outstretched palm, “Shhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

The little girl in Joy recoiled and only grinned, nodding her head, making it painfully obvious she would do anything big-sis told her. Even die if she needed to.

Jayda crept in and closed the door while lifting it up to avoid the creak. The house was quiet behind her. Jayda was taller than Joy by an entire head. Hair kept under a thick beanie and her frame covered up by large clothes. She gave Joy a big bear hug, crouching only slightly. Warmth washed through the both of them as Joy hugged back. She could feel her bigger big sister’s arms wrap around her like thin sticks on a tree, even through her jacket. It was concerning at first, a concern whisked away by Jayda speaking.

“Hey little sis, how is you?” She whispered then grinned. No teeth gone, yet.

Joy smiled back, she was beaming, “I’m doing okay. It’s so late, mom and—”

“Eh, it’s okay. I—I just needed to grab a couple things. I heard the music, still on your Rock wave…”

“Forever on the wave. What’d you need, I can help.” Joy whispered.

“I got it, Joy,” Joy could see that her eyes were wet. Jayda blinked and stood next to her bedside. Blankets like she had left them. A space stuck in time.

“What you been up to girl?” Jayda traced a finger on her only shelf, filled with papers, pieces of art, pencils, a tennis ball, and a bag on the bottom.

Joy answered with a voice weighed down by unfiltered honesty while sitting down on her own bed, “Ugh, bored. Livid and bored with—everything.”

Jayda looked back at her little sister. A reflection. Skinny, apathetic, and mad at the world. She swallowed her bitterness, “You still into B-Ball?”

Joy’s eyes lit up, her cheeks rising, “Yes—actually. I have uh—well Mom and rOn don’t let me watch anymore but—I have a little game this Saturday, not official at all before you ask.”

“I figured. At least you’re still out there. Saturday huh?”

“Yeah at Kiwi Park—but—ugh…”

“Talk to me Joy, what’s going on?” Jayda sat down too.

“Why can’t anyone just let me enjoy something? Why can’t I do what I want? Ever?”

Jayda sighed, “I mean—”

“No it’s everyone. Not just Mom and dumbass Ron, it’s Gran, it’s strangers, it’s the people I want to play with. Be friends with maybe—but being this—” Joy pointed at herself, “Gets in the way. Like I need to adhere to some sort of rulebook I can’t even fucking see, or read even if I could see the shit.”

Jayda clenched her fists on her lap, “Come here girl, sit next to me.”

Joy did.

“Do you see me?”

Joy smirked, “Well duh I—”

“No, do you really see me Sis?”

Joy examined her. Cheekbones were prominent, more than usual. Her collarbone poked out from beneath a tear in her shirt underneath the oversized jacket and her wrists, they were covered but still clearly so small, poking out from the void that was the jacket—dirt streaked and fading. Underneath her beanie—hair was shaved down to the skin, not like the bundle of braids she used to wear all the time, twisted by mom.

A small gasp escaped Joy, “You need to come back Jayda.”

“Eh. Don’t like what you see huh?”

Joy looked down, “No…”

“It’s okay. It’s good you feel that way and—listen—I understand how you feel. Anger, but usually it’s never just anger. There’s something else in there, but I see you fighting it. You have to fight it, Joy, always. Otherwise there won’t be any fight left,” Jayda looked past the flowing curtains, “But enough about that bullshit ass emotion, anger sucks. What makes you happy? Make a list. Tell me. Tell it to the world.”

“Gah, a list—it won’t be much—”

“But at least you have some Joy, Joy. Tell me, put it out there. It’s important to open up.”

“Well…basketball first off—”

“Duh, go on.”

“Um—” Joy rubbed her fingers together, “Eating. Learning. Writing I guess. Um. Taking care of everyone. I mean—mom, the bros, little little sis, and even Gran. And I can’t forget about music. But,” She scowled, “FUCK—”

“Joy,” Jayda frowned.

“Yes—yes—you’re right. Happy thoughts. I am really looking forward to the game this Saturday. I was able to come up with a plan to go against these assholes there for a wager match. Show off my skills—maybe.”

“Good, see. You’re still fighting. Keep fighting, Joy. You can see what happens when you stop.”

“Come back, Jayda.”

Jayda stood up and shook her head. “Eh, who knows little sis.” She walked over to her shelf and stooped to grab the bag, along with a small bundle of clothes she tucked into her armpit. “We will see. Make sure you play with all of your heart all of the time. Get me?”

Joy stoned herself from the caving of her chest and the drop of her heart, “I’ll kick their ass for you big sis.”

Jayda smiled, and without another word or touch, she exited the room as silently as she had entered. Everything burst forward like a broken dam as she watched her figure disappear into shadow from the window. Compounding aches.

Twenty minutes later, Mom and Ron pulled into the driveway, tires crackling against the concrete. She wiped her tears away with a stray tee and huddled down into her comfy corner. The notebook and pencil bounced with her weight, drawing her attention back to her work. A stuttering sigh got released, signifying the end of the open chasm closing, just momentarily. Joy took her pencil and scribbled away her previous work, starting anew:

Here is my declaration-

I want to become my own nebula,

exploding light into my own darkness,

exploring the black reaches of myself,

still so bright, shining constantly,

I am my own sun.

Look towards the flames and what do you see?

Me Inside.

She didn’t care about the length, this poem was about freedom right? Right. Joy closed her notebook and threw everything into her backpack seconds before her Mom came knocking.

Her mom peeped inside. Joy pretended to be lifeless. With a smile and the blow of a kiss, she closed the door. When it clicked, Joy hugged herself and swung the covers over her entire body and waited for the morning to meet her. She didn’t remember dreaming about Jayda. But she remembered her words. She remembered her brief touch. She held onto it. She would old onto it forever if she could.

***

Water came streaming out from the sink, and Gran took a sip. She let the fridgelight guide her shuffling steps. “She was here, Jen.”

Gran sat down at the table with Joy’s mother. In the middle of the night. Insomnia-ridden and parched. Concern etched into her eyebrows.

“I just can’t help but wonder why…” Jen looked down at her fingers, they were twisting together, up and around one another. Skin rustling.

“At least she was here, Jen,” an undertone of tender care cut through Gran’s usual hard-walled demeanor.

“Of course, mom. I just—” Jen stopped, took in a shaky breath, and continued, “What happens to my happy girls? I—what’s wrong with me?”

“Oh Jen…Look around us, look outside. You can’t pin this all on yourself, baby.”

She cried, silent, hard, and to herself.

Gran got her a glass of water. It helped wash down the tears, “Just make sure you light the way, don’t snuff anything of theirs out, and pray my child, pray. Always. Pray.”

***

They stayed at the school overtime. An emptiness accompanied them on the concrete court. Off-white backboards squeaking with every gust of the wind. Red outlined the metal bursting out from the ground. Joy made sure to borrow an old ball from one of the twins. It was practice day.

“No, Imma’ go—”

“I don’t care about it, just go then. Anyone else leaving?”

“I don’t know why should we listen—”

“Do you know what a Hidden Guard is?”

“Well…no…but—”
“Okay then you should listen then. And maybe we can have a chance tomorrow,” Joy said matter-of-factly. It was a fact, in all senses of the word. This was her fight. She needed to bring it.

Little D shrugged in agreement, his eyes moved with his shoulders. Junior dapped them goodbye and began walking home, “See ya’ tomorrow. I guess.”

“Peace,” Joy said and focused back onto U and Little D, “We ready then?”

“I definitely am. We gonna come up with some kind of fuckin plan then?”

“No, we’re just going to play our asses off. No plan is a good plan, they won’t see it coming. But we do have to figure out who got the best shot,” she bounced the ball in her hands, “And if we do win—well—we’ll see I guess.” Joy raised the ball above her head.

The bright orange had turned a dusty gray, and the black lines imprinted into the ball were long gone. Still held air well enough. Bounced well enough. Practice was practice.

She went over the basics first. Finger tip dribbling, both hands. Little D caught on quickly. It took some more effort for U to catch up, but he did nonetheless. Joy could see their potential first hand, especially when they weren’t being picked on every second, flared emotions keeping them flustered and put down. No distractions, just ball. Good. There was a spark, a distant flicker as she taught them about the Three Man Weave into easy layups, or the proper way to perform Anchor Steps, along with the aforementioned Hidden Guard, a term Joy coined herself in her own time. A stance used to hide whether the player would pass, dribble, or shoot. An effective technique, especially against the aged assholes they were opposing.

She led, they adhered. Until the sun began crawling under the horizon. They finished off with a few games of Horse to pose the best shooter. Of which, it was Joy, without question.

They were sweating, moving, learning, playing, and imagining themselves under bright lights, flashing cameras, giant screens, and squeaky courts. Larger than life. Fighting against the confinement of the desert itself. It was a rush, for all of them. It was release. Muscles burned by the end of it, but the nocturnal air cooled their skin and went into their lungs to cool them off from the inside out.

“Tomorrow then,” Joy stood before Little D and U. They were drinking from plastic water bottles, crinkled up and loose.

“Tomorrow is the fucking day,” Little D gasped between intakes.

“In-deed,” U said only what he needed to.

Little D groaned, “You know—this ain’t half bad.”

“This?” Joy asked.

“Practicing. I can feel myself getting better.”

“Stronger,” U added.

Joy looked down to hide her smile, “Good. You’ll both be better for it,” She wiped the smile away, positioning her chin high, “Don’t forget—”

“Eat, shit, sleep, and dream ball,” U nodded.

Little D grinned, “Fucking course.”

“Fuck Junior for not stayin man.”

“I agree,” said Joy.

Little D looked off into the dark, “Ah you know him. Junior a little different. Let’s get the fuck outta here now. See you tomorrow then, Joy?” He stuck out his hand.

She tucked the ball between her legs and dapped him up, click-clack.

U did the same. Click-clack. With a snap.

They walked off together.

As the night grew, Joy stood glowing.

***

Game day.

The sky was burning, hot. A breeze every so often, like the winds were holding their breath too. She had entered into the bordered court with an ease she didn’t expect. Joy half predicted an invisible force-field would hold her back, but there was no such thing. Inside the chain linked square let her breathe deep, and an untapped energy surged into her chest.

Joy’s team was there earlier than Derryl and Shante, practicing, shooting, swishing. Little D and U gave the rundown to Junior, whose face got redder by the sentence. He had missed: a lot. He could feel the pressure of their skill gap widening with everything they inferred back to him. They figured, best-case scenario was that he passed to them, played defense like normal, and body blocked them before they could block Joy.

The determination was that she was the best shooter of them all. Joy sunk threes like Curry himself. Little D’s layups weren’t too bad and they left U open enough to pass whenever he could, who could move with his anchor steps well. It was solid, as long they weaved the ball between each other. Sporadically defended by Junior. It was a plan’s plan.

A sharp whistle and then a forced chuckle. Derryl had a wickedly large grin spreading across his face when he arrived. Streaks of gray forced their way between the flaming sky behind him. He looked at Joy briefly and then locked eyes with the three other boys below him, “Hope y’all prepared. Especially you.”

He glared at Joy, into Joy, dissecting her for any signs of weakness. He sniffed the air boisterously, “Ready Shante?” He looked back.

“More than,” Shante stood under the hoop, Derryl’s ball tucked in his armpit.

“Ready to get his ass beat!” Junior shouted from the opposite end, he was shooting with Joy’s dusty ball, attempting to gain some distance in the skill he had lost.

“Pshh. Sure,” Derryl muttered then he spoke aloud, “Let’s get this shit over with—where’s the money?”

“Here,” Joy flashed it then quickly shoved it into her basketball shorts.

“Bet,” Shante walked over, “you guys get ball first. Lock the fuck in.”

It began.

Rough sneakers padded by extra socks moved, digging soles into the concrete. Joy wasn’t about to get a blister today and she was prepared to play tough, mean, hard. She even had mom do her braids two days before. Mom had happily obliged.

They let Junior have the ball, and they got into positions. Clear lines of sight between their two opponents. Shante kept side-eyeing Little D and U, noticing the lines of determination morphing their faces. Derryl kept his eye on the ball and only the ball.

Junior did what he knew best and passed it to his buddies first. U picked it up, dribbled it nicely from his left fingertips, throwing Shante off as he swiped for his right hand. Shante quickly recovered but not before the ball was flying towards Little D’s hands. He caught it. His best feature was his speed. Covering half the court in no more than three seconds. Derryl pursed his lips and let Joy off the hook—Little D saw the opening and weaved the ball past Derryl pushing up to him. Joy caught the ball with finesse and jumped into the first score of the game.

A ripe swish right before the three point line. Little D grinned. U clapped and Junior was in shock.

“Clean as fuck,” Little D said.

Joy smirked, “Your ball.”

Shante and Derryl both nodded to each other while Shante picked up the ball.

“Won’t happen again pussies,” Derryl’s name calling began. Earlier than usual.

Joy inhaled and put herself up front. Ready to defend.

Derryl’s whisper floated into her ear, “Bitch…”

She gave him a stank-eye, arching her eyebrow as high as it could go, “What?”

Shante passed the ball and Derryl was gone before he could answer.

“That’s you Little D!” She yelled at him. U got under the other hoop in the blink of an eye. He knew what to do. Junior stayed with Joy and she spaced herself from him in case the ball came their way.

Derryl pushed right past Little D, twisted for a fake pass, making everyone’s shoes squeak, then dribbled twice for a clean layup. A guaranteed shot.

Two to Three.

“Junior—” Joy commanded. He retrieved the ball and went out of bounds while Derryl smirked at Joy during a high five with Shante. Shante stayed back while Derryl defended Junior.

U, Little D, and Joy got into a weave between Shante. “Ready to walk away empty handed?” She asked her opponent.

Shante scoffed, “Nah. Ya’ll suck.”

Junior fumbled the pass, trying to bounce it towards U and it was quickly intercepted by Derryl. He made a quick overhead pass to Shante who Joy was already on. The ball bounced on her wrist, throwing the trajectory off. It slipped into the middle of the court, jumping once—twice. Joy and Shante raced towards it. Derryl got there first, blocking Joy head on with his right shoulder. She stumbled back and her face got red hot. The ball, focus. Junior got in Derryl’s way but he spun around him with ease and passed it back to Shante on the three point line. He shot, he scored.

Five to Three.

Little D picked up the ball and Derryl shot Joy a sly grin. Fucker.

Her cheek twitched ever so slightly. The game—focus on the game. Eat, shit, sleep, and dream ball. She nodded slightly in Little D’s direction while Junior and U got close and personal with Derryl. Shante shouldn’t expect sudden aggression.

Little D half stepped, appearing like he would run it himself and sent the ball to Joy. She blocked Shante with a stiff arm and snatched up the ball with her left. She was off. Bounce—bounce—bounce—bounce. Across the court and right at the three point line. She feinted the shot and used Shante’s failed attempt at a high block miss to sink another shot. Swish.

Five to Six.

“Fuck yeah!” Little D and U chest bumped and he gave Junior a high five.

Derryl grabbed the ball, “Whatever pussies, not over just yet. Watch.”

“Halfway there…” Joy retorted.

Derryl sucked on his teeth, “Nah.”

Shante copied him, “Nah nah. Ready?”

Back into play, Derryl pushed the ball himself as soon as everyone was in position. A dribble through Junior’s legs threw him off and a stiff arm kept U at bay. Little D confronted him and he kept him on his back, dribbling sporadically while Shante moved in for an easy pass. Joy got there faster—too close. Derryl grunted as he forced Little D back, causing her teammate to get off balance while Shante zoomed towards the hoop. Joy hustled. Derryl didn’t pass, he went for the cross-court shot. Thrung! It bounced off the backboard and Joy jumped just high enough to put her hand above Shante’s. She stole it, the ball was in their favor now. One dribble—two—and she juked out Shante. He seethed while Derryl came in quickly. His eyes were blazing, and under his breath he said, “Come on bitch, push.” Little D and U got into a perfect weaving position. Joy exhaled and dropped into the Hidden Stance, knees wide and low. She could shoot, pass, or dribble. Derryl swiped but Joy kept the ball tucked. With a small flick of the wrist, she half stepped and passed it to Junior, who was completely open. Shante’s eyes widened and Junior grinned with his tongue hanging out in between his set of buckteeth. Both U and Little D said in unison, “Pass!” Joy cut off Derryl with her movement and Shante was spread thin. Junior passed to U. He dribbled, took three anchor steps, ball going between his legs quick, and sank a nice layup into the hoop. Derryl knocked him to the side as he rushed for the ball.

Five to Eight.

All U could do was laugh in elation, “I scored ho! I scored!”

“Fuck off,” Shante muttered.

“We coolin,” Derryl said aloud, “We coolin. Fucking pussies.”

Everyone inhaled deeply. Everyone was sweating, little drips falling across darkened skin while the moon began to rise high and mighty past the sun. Everyone felt the breeze run across their chests and back. Sending the chills across themselves. Heart beats raced, minds raced faster, and feet were moving without a second thought. All action.

Boom, they exploded onto the court, aggression turned up to a ten. Derryl dribbled and took two steps before passing it under U’s legs. Junior grabbed the ball, only for a second. Derryl stuck out his tongue and spun around U to knock the ball out of Junior’s clumsy hands, who didn’t even hear Joy telling him to “Pass bro!” Little D ran up on Derryl, attempting to halt his forceful rush but Derryl elbowed him in the chest—poof. Little D fell onto his ass, grimacing and rubbing his sternum.

“Fucking foul!” U called out abruptly.

“Just keep going!” Joy screamed. Fuck it. No momentum lost, keep on.

U shook his head. Joy didn’t notice while she pushed herself against a moving Derryl. He made a sound halfway between a snarl and a chuckle. Dribbling the ball rapidly between both of his hands, glaring into her eyes, he tried to juke her but Joy stayed on him. Her eyes never left the ball like they were tethered. He took two steps back and decided to try and sink it from slightly before the three point line. Joy jumped and she brushed the ball with the tips of her fingers. Bink—bounce. It slammed against the rim and off the backboard. The ball swiveled around then fell out of bounds. A sigh of relief escaped her but Derryl’s words met her, “Go on and grab it whore.”

Joy balled her fists and glared at him. She froze.

Little D picked up the ball, “We got it, Joy.”

She snapped out of it. Trying to contain herself. The rage drizzled down into her stomach, creating what felt like a bottomless pit, “Sure. Let me have it.”

“But—”

“Let me have it,” Joy insisted.

“Okay, okay,” Little D gave her the ball.

She got into a wide stance and kept the ball low. Derryl walked up, sweat falling down his neck. He couldn’t touch her yet. They glared at each other. One foot apart. Her opponent sneered and he rolled his shoulders then matched her stance. They were face to face.

“Come on, pass it, bitch,” He whispered.

The rage rose up into her throat, powering her vocal chords.

“Call me a name one more time, fucker. I dare you.” Joy put the ball into her chest, gripping tight.

He snorted, to himself, then nodded, “Stupid bitch.” Cold like his teeth were made of ice.

Joy looked at Little D first. Would she pass? Dribble? Who knew—but Derryl reacted promptly, arms sprawled away from his face. An open shot. Joy smiled back. Something inside of her opened, unlatched. Forever now and forever forward. She intended to break the ice.

She launched a chest pass from hell, throwing her entire body towards Derryl, propelling the ball directly at his mouth. He grunted forcefully while his face flew back with the recoil of a well placed punch. His two front teeth clattered to the floor, most of the flying blood spotted the ball as it bounced away and into Little D’s hands. A spare pass.

Joy’s steady rage cut through the buzz of wonder and excitement, “I told you not to call me that you little fucking bitch.” She stood over him, fists balled. “Keep on berating me fucker, and you get what you get. Fucking pussy!” She wagged a finger at him lying below her.

Shante ran to Derryl’s side while Little D dribbled across the court and performed a perfect layup.

“That’s game you sad sack fuck,” Joy seethed, “We’re keeping the money while you can pick up your goddamn teeth.”

She braced herself, widening her stance for retaliation.

It did not arrive. Only laughter and wads of blood. Her eyebrows scrunched together.

Derryl was laughing. Shante looked bewildered. He just held his hands out, stammering about whether he needed to call an ambulance. U and Junior stood off to the side, faces in elated shock while Little D brought the ball back into view.

“He’s fine, just needs a good fuckin dentist,” Little D put the ball down and he wiped his hands on his pants. “Gotta call momma or what?”

Derryl wiped the blood from his mouth and onto his sleeve, “Thure fuckface. You gonna pay fo it?”

“Hell no.”

“Weth then calth my momma.”

Shante picked up his friend and asked quietly, “You good?”

“Yeth! I am fine.” Derryl took off his sweater and balled it up then put it up to his exposed gums, “Can thomebody pleathe grab my fucking teeth.”

Joy nearly did, taken back by his steadfast demeanor, but she refrained, only scowling still. Derryl looked at her, his voice muffled through the makeshift bandage, “Nothing to thay?”

“Sorry?” She muttered.

Derryl nodded, “Thure.” He looked down, “This thit actewally fuckin hurth.”

The wild shock was quickly replaced. A camaraderie of comfortability eased itself into the bones of every one playing. Joy stood a little taller, unsure of what to make of it. But oddly, she felt even more at ease than ever before.

“Tough shit, Joy,” Shante shot her a quick glance. He had his friend’s teeth in the palm of his hand. “Fucked up.”

The sun was finally settling, and the gray night took over the entire sky. Crickets chirped, jumped, and the commotion was replaced by stillness.

Shante got on Derryl’s phone, talking with his mom.

“Thath game then,” Derryl nodded. “GAH! Thith fuckin hurth.”

“Well, I—I’m sorry. Listen uh, maybe we can just all grab some otter pops or something—”

“No. I’m good. You guys goth it. Good game fuckerth.”

The adrenaline washed off of Joy and into the concrete.

Shante finished the call.

“Good shit, Joy.” Little D smiled.

“When you gonna teach me that bruh?” Junior walked up to them.

“Whenever, I guess,” Joy replied casually.

Junior chuckled.

Derryl laughed at the sight of his teeth, “Shith they actually gone. My momma gonna be pithed.”

“For the game right?” Shante half smiled.

Derryl shrugged, “For the game…” He looked up to the younger boys and Joy, “Same thime Monday. I thould be alrighth. You thoo,” He pointed at Joy. “Thethe boys wath diff thoday.”

“We need it,” Shante finished.

Derryl nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Donth think we’ll thake ith easy though.”

“Duh. I sure as hell don’t.” She crossed her arms, “Just no name calling, fucker. Or I’ll bust your face again.”

U and Junior snickered. Derryl’s cheeks rose up in a grin, “Thure.”

“Ice cream then?” U suggested.

Joy nodded with a sigh of relief, “Ice cream sounds perfect. Get my ball. We’re done here. Good game guys. We kind of beat your ass.”

“In like every fucking way, ha,” Little D added.

Shante frowned, “Yeah yeah yeah. Next time, we on your ass. Especially you, you little fucker.” He pointed at Little D.

“Good, it’s how we improve.” Joy finalized.

She walked off, smiling, big, beaming. Thinking about Jayda. Hoping she would be proud. She needed to see her sister again soon. But first, some celebration.

***

Joy was forever. Something that popped up in between the darkness. A fighting pendulum between negativity and happiness. A constant light from the corner, most wanted, there when needed.

Jayda saw her. Jayda smiled. She watched the group of four leave the fenced court and towards the outer park.

The sky was purple, deeply embedded with stars that shined down onto the kids. She watched their little silhouettes vanish into the night and towards the big white ice cream truck. Dogs barked off in the distance while the two older boys sat down next to each other, waiting for his momma.

Joy had won. She could clearly see the glow she imbued into everybody else with her uplifting confidence and take no shit attitude. The fight was over. For now.

Jayda smiled to herself. The cold wrapped around her as she looked down at her hands. Scarred. Dirt crunched under her boots as she stomped onto a needle. Her chest shuddered. If Joy could fight back, Jayda could too.

Jayda walked home. Where she would be awaiting Joy. She couldn’t let her do this alone. Not anymore. And Jayda also realized that she wasn’t alone. Never truly alone. As long as she had Joy. She knew they would fight together. At the very least…

Joy grinned as she shared an ice cream cone with her new friends.

Not alone, never again.

Special thanks to everyone who helped with this, which most are not here on this platform. You can find them in the Substack Version of this post. I will drop names nonetheless:

Dylan Bosworth - Nino Punto - Stefan Baciu - Emily S. Hurricane - Victor Jimenez

AND A HUGE thank you to the person who commissioned this for me. To joy in all senses of the word.