Six

THE NEXT TWO days seemed to pass in moments. With Hudson around the girls were a great deal nicer to me, reserving their cruelty for when they could get me alone. I didn’t complain; I was far past the point where I minded being made to practise in nothing but my panties. My own outfit arrived on the morning of the match, after the fresh humiliation of being measured by Tiffany and having her call out the measurements of my bust and hips to Hudson’s ancient Jewish tailor, who kept shaking his head and remarking on the difficulty of cutting shorts to fit a fuller bottom. I’m not really big at all, by average standards, and certainly not by average American standards, but from the way they behaved you’d have thought my bottom was the size of a prize pumpkin.

Dressed up, I looked every bit as ridiculous as I had expected, and was actually grateful that the absurd bunny mask hid my features. Not that the costume was badly made, far from it, but the top was so tight it made me look as if I had a pair of furry pink breasts, while the shorts left more of my bottom cheeks poking out around the sides than they covered, and fitted my form so perfectly that I might as well not have bothered. Watching the way the other girls’ tails bobbed as they moved had already given me a good idea of how comic they looked, but the tailor had made mine nearly twice the size of everybody else’s, and explained laughingly that it needed to be in proportion to my bottom.

As I stood in the middle of the team room, feeling impossibly foolish, all seven of the other girls were giggling openly, but Hudson seemed to find the way I looked genuinely appealing.

‘Knock it off, you girls,’ he said with a chuckle, ‘she looks cute, very cute. Turn around, Penny.’

I obeyed, turning slowly to show off my rear view, although he could see perfectly well in the mirror. He gave a pleased nod and carried on.

‘You have no equal, Joseph.’

‘It’s a simple thing,’ the tailor answered, spreading his hands.

‘To you, maybe,’ Hudson answered, and made the briefest hesitation before he continued. ‘I assume you’ll say thank you nicely to Mr Levy, Penny?’

‘Thank you very much, Mr Levy,’ I said, trying to sound sincere, though I had already thanked him when he first gave me the costume.

Hudson coughed and gave me a meaningful look. I glanced back, puzzled, only for my mouth to fall slowly open as I realised what he meant.

‘It’s OK,’ Hudson assured me. ‘He’s one of us.’

I made to speak, meaning to point out that just because Mr Levy was part of his little mafia of sexual perverts didn’t mean that I was obliged to say thank you in the way he meant, let alone like it, but Tiffany got in first.

‘Don’t be a bitch, Penny, how much fun do you think the old guy gets?’

‘Did you do it?’ I demanded, my outrage overcoming my instinctive deference to her.

‘No,’ she answered, ‘but I’m not a little fuck slut like you, am I?’

‘Maybe for girls …,’ I began, now bright red as both Rebecca and Roberta nodded their agreement with Tiffany.

‘Go on, Penny, have a heart,’ Jemima urged, trying to stifle her giggles at the prospect of me pleasuring Mr Levy.

I glanced around, hoping for support from at least one of them. There was none, and if anything their expressions seemed to suggest that I was the one being unreasonable. Sometimes there’s just no getting out of it.

‘Oh, very well!’ I snapped. ‘But honestly!’

Mr Levy himself had remained completely impassive during our exchange, except for the slow movement of his small yellow eyes from speaker to speaker as we argued. His mouth was little more than a larger wrinkle among the many, and now it twitched slowly up at the corners as I took him by the hand.

‘Come on then,’ I said with a sigh.

Hudson and the girls were cheering and clapping as I led Mr Levy into my bedroom. He was at least clean, with just a faint scent about him, the sort you get in an old-fashioned milliner’s, and also polite.

‘This is very kind of you, my dear,’ he said as I shut the door. ‘How would you like me?’

‘I’ll kneel and suck your penis,’ I offered, keen to make the best of the situation by adopting a submissive pose but not willing to be fucked.

‘Very kind,’ he repeated and sat down on the edge of my bed. ‘Oh no, just the way you are, please.’

I’d been about to take off my bunny mask, assuming he’d want me nude or at least topless, but stopped, telling myself that if he wanted a blow-job from a giant pink bunny rabbit then that was his problem.

‘Take it out then,’ I told him.

‘Certainly, certainly,’ he said, tugging at his fly as I got down on my knees.

He pulled his cock out, thick and as wrinkly as his hands and face, but with a big pink helmet sticking up where his foreskin had been removed. I looked at it and, as always when I have to suck cock, found myself wondering how any woman in the entire history of mankind had ever voluntarily allowed a man to put his penis in her mouth. Yet at the same time I could feel a rising desire to suck on the hideous thing until my eyes popped.

That’s just instinct, and I was still feeling very put upon as I took hold of it and popped it into my mouth, but a great deal of my resentment came from knowing perfectly well that I’d enjoy doing it. Hudson and Tiffany had told me to, after all, which meant that I’d been made to do it, made to suck an old man’s cock to say thank you for something I’d never asked for in the first place.

It was a deliciously humiliating situation, and as he began to grow in my mouth the temptation to slip a hand between my thighs was rising, even to let him fuck me in my little bunny costume. I could already imagine how I’d look, on my knees with my bum in the air, my ridiculous ears jumping and my bunny tail bobbing back and forth as he thrust into me from behind, his cock stuck in through the slit in my shorts.

I closed my eyes, imagining how dirty I’d look in my absurd little costume as an old man fucked me from the rear. He had quite a nice cock too, big now that he was hard, and with a particularly fat head, which always feels nice as it pops in and out of the mouth of my pussy. I had to do it, and really it made no difference when I’d already sacrificed so much of my dignity.

‘Would you like to go further?’ I asked, pulling back and taking his cock in my hand.

‘As you please, my dear,’ he offered.

‘Take me from behind,’ I told him. ‘I’ll go on the bed.’

I scrambled on to the bed even as he got up, positioning myself on all fours with my bottom stuck out over the edge. He licked his lips at the sight, holding his cock as he got behind me. I felt the slit of my bunny shorts pulled open, exposing my pussy and bumhole to his gaze and to his cock. Had he tried to bugger me I wouldn’t have resisted, but he was content with the easier hole, popping his fat cock head into the mouth of my cunt and sliding himself deep.

He was slow, as older men usually are, easing himself unhurriedly in and out of my hole as he fondled my furry bottom and admired his view of my body and my costume. It felt every bit as good as I’d anticipated, and to make things better I could see our reflection in the wardrobe mirror, a fat-bottomed little bunny-girl being fucked doggy-style by the dirty old bastard who’d made my costume. I had to come over the sight, and before he did.

‘Let me play with myself,’ I instructed, parting my knees a little more and pushing my bottom back against his body.

The slit in the costume was just right, allowing me to get at my clit and masturbate while I was fucked, no doubt on purpose. I found my button and began to rub, my eyes fixed on the mirror. My tail was wobbling, both to his thrusts and the motion of my fingers, while with each push the meat of my bottom squashed out and my tummy and tits gave a little shiver. It was wonderfully rude, both silly and obscene, the way I like it best, and as I began to rub harder I was hoping he’d fill me with spunk at the exact moment I came, or better still, pull out and do it all over my fat, furry bottom and into my slit so that I could watch.

I was panting, near to orgasm, and yet he was still easing himself slowly in and out, enjoying his fuck and the state he’d got me in. For a moment I stopped, telling myself I should hold back, but I couldn’t do it, and my fingers went straight back on my cunt, to touch the junction between his cock and my hole, then to rub. I came, an explosion that began with the first touch to my clit and sent me into a gasping, shivering orgasm, throughout which he continued to pump slowly into me.

It left me weak, and his cock slipped free as my knees slid apart. Two quick breaths and I turned, to find it sticking up from his fly, glistening with my juice, which I licked up eagerly before taking him back in my mouth. He sat down, his own breathing now heavy, and I crawled around to get to him, kneeling on the bed as I sucked his cock. His hand found my bottom, kneading my cheeks before slipping into the slit of my costume.

A finger slid up my pussy, another began to tickle my bumhole and I took him in hand, masturbating him into my mouth in absolute abandon, all thoughts of my shame forgotten. He gave a single, long groan, his cock jerked and he’d come, filling my mouth with salty, slimy spunk, which I did my best to gulp down in a final act of obedience and submission before I pulled back. He smiled.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said. ‘Er … you have a little of my spend on your chin.’

‘Thank you,’ I echoed, wiping off the offending blob of come and eating it, ‘and thank you for fucking me so nicely.’

‘Slow but steady,’ he said with a chuckle, ‘the old ones are always the best.’

It had been nice, but that did nothing to dilute my embarrassment as we left my bedroom. They all knew what I’d done, more or less, clapping and cheering as they had when I’d agreed to do it, but also laughing. Jemima in particular didn’t seem able to hold her giggles in, and I found myself checking to see if there was any more come on my face. There wasn’t, and while I could see that they might find the idea of me surrendering myself to Mr Levy amusing, their reaction seemed a bit over the top.

‘What’s so funny?’ I demanded.

‘Just that you went for it,’ Tiffany answered me. ‘Hudson said you would, but I didn’t believe him. Now we know, eh, girls? What a slut!’

I’d gone beetroot, and couldn’t speak for a moment as the reality of what they’d done to me sank in. They were all laughing at me, even Mr Levy giving a dry chuckle, and although Hudson put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a comforting squeeze I was left feeling as if I’d shrunk to the size of a mouse. Yet in a deeper, still clear part of my mind I understood exactly what was happening. Since being in New York I’d been in an almost permanent state of submission, and it had got to me to the extent that I was susceptible to any order, any suggestion. Hudson at least understood, interrupting when Talana began to clap her hands and chant the word ‘slut’ over and over with the intention of having the others join in.

‘Give the little doll a break,’ he boomed. ‘She’s in sub-space.’

Talana obviously didn’t know what he was talking about, but stopped anyway. Hudson spread his hands for silence, which he got immediately.

‘OK, girls, enough fooling around. Today’s the day, and we need to be ready for those Bitches. Go and get some rest, all of you, and meet up at the back. Seventeen hundred hours, and do not be late.’

The girls began to disperse, in ones and twos, although from what I caught of their conversation Talana and the Princess at least seemed to think that a shopping trip counted as rest. I didn’t have to worry, as I wasn’t actually playing, and decided to follow suit, only for rather different purposes. Once I’d left New York it seemed unlikely that I’d have a chance to buy a new pussy pump, and despite all the attention I’d been getting I was missing the sensation badly, while what I’d done with the twins and with Mr Levy would have been even more exquisitely humiliating with my sex lips swollen.

Hudson directed me to a shop in Greenwich Village, just a few blocks away, and I walked down. I managed to buy my pussy pump without getting spanked or fucked or being forced to suck the shop assistant off, and their manner was so urbane that the experience wasn’t even particularly embarrassing. It was a good one too, a deluxe model with a flexible rim to ensure it would cup me fully, and an adjustable pressure valve so that I would be able to have much better control.

I was looking forward to using it, but I also wanted to explore, and having come with Mr Levy I chose the second option. There was a lot to see, and long before I got to my objective, which was the Brooklyn Bridge, I realised that if I didn’t turn back I was going to be late. Hudson had hired a minibus as we were playing at somewhere called Greenwood Hall, but I had no idea where it was and as my presence was hardly important I was sure he’d leave without me if I wasn’t there on time.

As it was, I only just made it, arriving at the back of his apartment block at ten past five to find Hudson standing next to the minibus and looking at his watch in annoyance. I apologised hastily and climbed on board, taking my shopping bags with me. Everybody was there except Talana, but Hudson immediately climbed up and told the driver to go.

‘What about your sister?’ I asked Tiffany.

‘She threw a tantrum because she isn’t in the team,’ Tiffany answered.

I wasn’t surprised, as Talana was the most spoilt of all, possible excepting the Princess, and had been furious about being made first reserve. Tiffany didn’t look too happy, and there had obviously been a row, but everybody was in agreement that she’d made the right decision.

They talked tactics as we drove south through Manhattan and under another tunnel, with the tension increasing as we drew ever nearer to Brooklyn. I could feel it myself, even though I’d only be sitting on the substitutes’ bench, and it was impossible not to think of the crowd staring at us in our little costumes and, if we lost, the thick, hard strap-ons sliding up our pussies as we were fucked in public. Or rather as they were fucked in public, because there were only six Brooklyn Bitches to do the fucking, and among the Tribeca Tails I was very firmly number seven. Besides, we might win.

Greenwood Hall was a converted warehouse next to one of the biggest cemeteries I’d ever seen, with a forest of monuments set among trees on a low hill. I wasn’t feeling too sanguine about what was to come, as I hate sport and I hate crowds, and the sight of all the tombs didn’t do much for my spirits. Fortunately the others seemed unaffected, bouncing out of the minibus and into the hall, full of enthusiasm and the will to win.

We went straight to the changing rooms, where my hopes sank lower still. Along one wall a line of large black rubber strap-ons had been hung on pegs. They were hideously realistic, with bulging ball sacks, thick veins crawling up the cock shafts and fat, glossy helmets, which each had a condom rolled on, presumably for hygienic purposes. Beneath them, on the bench, was the most enormous tub of vaginal lubricant I had ever seen.

The display had obviously been put together to daunt us, but Tiffany refused to take the bait, gloating over how much fun it would be to use the hideous things on our opponents. After watching the video of Melody and the others I wasn’t so sure. As three out of six had had to be spanked they presumably weren’t that accurate with their throws, but those who’d appeared in the videos looked like tall, athletic girls.

They were, as we discovered when they trooped in while we were changing, marching with military discipline and forming a line at one end of the room, each and every one immaculate in her blue and white uniform, while most of us were half naked. Melody gave the faintest of nods as she saw me and Jemima, then went back to attention as Shana stepped to the front, sneering at us.

The next person to enter the room was Buttman Bailey, which caused a frantic covering of pussies and breasts among the Tribeca Tails.

‘Do you mind?’ Tiffany demanded.

‘Not in the least,’ he answered, allowing his eyes to caress what was visible of her flesh, ‘and why so prissy? In not so long you’re going to get fucked in front of five hundred people.’

‘I don’t think so,’ she answered, but he just laughed.

‘Look at you!’ he said. ‘You’re a bunch of pampered daddy’s girls, that’s what you are. Now we are the real thing. Make a muscle, Shana.’

Shana tensed her arm, showing off the lean, hard musculature, including a biceps that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a man. She was also just about six feet tall, with the longest legs in proportion I’d ever seen on a woman and not an ounce of spare flesh. The others were only slightly less impressive.

‘I’m sure posh girls like you feel it’s polite to be introduced to anyone who fucks you,’ Buttman Bailey was saying, ‘so let me introduce to you my captain, Shana, whom I know some of you have already met. And here, our guest player and something of a wild card, Big Mel from London. Step out, Mel.’

Melody stepped forward, folding her arms across her chest. Shana was taller, and younger, but for sheer power there was no comparison, while I knew only too well what she was capable of physically.

‘Next in line,’ Bailey went on, ‘our ace, Abi May Harrison.’

Abi stepped out, taller even than Shana and seemingly impossibly thin, with snake hips, while the breasts showing through the cut-outs in her uniform were no more than low swellings, although each was topped by a large jet-black nipple.

‘Is she even a girl?’ the Princess demanded.

‘You want a genes test?’ Bailey answered. ‘You got it, and, just for that, you’re the one she gets to fuck, Courtney Reifsneider. Oh yes, I know who you are. I know who all of you are. Next on, Felicita Suarez, the first of my Spanish honeys, and so fast she’ll make your eyes water.’

Felicita was one of the girls Shana had spanked, and the smallest of them, but still as tall as Jemima, with a lithe, active look about her.

‘Number five, my own baby girl, Babs Bambi Bailey.’

The sole white girl in the group stepped out, another of those I’d watched spanked, blonde and pretty, all legs and arms, with breasts as perfect as two bags of silicon and a good surgeon could make them. She was pretty, which seemed remarkable if Buttman Bailey really was her father, as he looked like a badly weathered garden gnome.

‘And last off,’ he said, ‘my reserve, Maria Guerrero, and even she could take any one of you down, one on one.’

Maria was the other Hispanic girl from the spanking clips, middle-sized, at least relatively, and with awkwardly large breasts for basketball, but otherwise compact and muscular. She gave us a knowing smile and stepped back into line.

Jemima had listened to all of this with her arms folded across her chest and her head cocked slightly to one side, a posture of deliberate insolence, while she was topless and hadn’t bothered to cover her breasts.

‘If you’re so good,’ she demanded, ‘how come four of you had to be spanked last week? Less than ten shots on target, wasn’t it?’

‘Four spankings in two months, with training every day?’ Buttman Bailey shot back. ‘I call that good.’

‘Oh,’ Jemima answered, somewhat crestfallen. ‘Well, we’re just as good.’

‘Sure, honey,’ he sneered. ‘Come on girls, let’s give the crowd a show while these losers try and get their shit together.’

The Brooklyn Bitches trooped out at a jog, the motion of which made their tiny skirts rise to show off their bare bottoms beneath. We were doomed, I was certain of it, but Tiffany didn’t seem to think so, pulling the other girls into a huddle for an encouraging speech while I hurried to finish changing.

During training, most of the girls had worn bras and panties under their costumes, but that was now forbidden, so that if we lost we could be conveniently fucked through the slits in our shorts. I’d only ever worn mine bare anyway, I’d already been fucked, and I wasn’t going to be getting it anyway, but that didn’t make me feel any less vulnerable as I wriggled my bottom into the tight shorts and adjusted my bra top.

‘Masks on,’ Tiffany instructed. ‘Let’s do it, girls!’

We trooped out, with me at the back, into a large hall full of light and sound. Buttman Bailey had said five hundred, but it looked more, a lot more, with tiers of benches on either side packed full and people standing at either end of the room. The centre was our court, with the nets on tall poles and a system of lines marked out on the floor, lines that meant nothing to me whatsoever.

I went to sit by Hudson on the bench, extremely glad I wouldn’t be playing, while the other girls ran out on to the court, Tiffany and Jessica bouncing balls, all of them cheering and clapping to egg on the crowd. Morris was there, in the front row, with Mel’s sister Harmony and Annabelle to either side, but they were the only people I recognised. The rest were a mixed crew, and a pretty sleazy one, maybe eighty per cent male, with everything from smartly dressed city types through utter nondescripts to a surprising number who might very well have been pimps from some US cop series on TV.

The referee wasn’t much better, an enormously tall man who Hudson had told me was an ex-pro of some standing, but he obviously considered the whole thing a joke, running out on to the court as if he himself was the star attraction and immediately twitching up Felicita’s skirt to show off her bare bottom. He had a cordless microphone, and introduced himself to wild cheering from the crowd, who obviously knew who he was.

Most of the crowd seemed to share his attitude, catcalling and making rude suggestions to the girls of both teams indiscriminately. That was more or less what I’d expected, and I contented myself with a resigned sigh and moving a little closer to Hudson so that I wasn’t so obvious in my absurd bunny costume. He was yelling to the girls and giving Tiffany instructions, which she ignored as she stepped into the centre circle to face Shana.

The referee blew his whistle and threw the ball high. I immediately felt a sharp increase in tension and, to my surprise, I found myself clenching my fists and biting my lip. It wasn’t as uneven as I’d imagined it would be either, with Tiffany jumping so high she managed to pull the ball back to Jessica before Shana could get to it. Jessica immediately passed it to Roberta, who managed to put it through the net from more than halfway across the court. The scoreboard buzzed and a three replaced the zero which I’d been confidently expecting to remain beneath the Tribeca Tails’ name for the entire match.

I didn’t know enough to understand half of what was going on, but I could see well enough, and was soon hoping we might actually win. When the buzzer went to end the first quarter we were fifteen to eleven ahead. Jemima had scored a superb goal from almost the full length of the court. Not that the crowd seemed to care very much who was winning, as they were far more concerned to watch bouncing breasts and the way the Bitches’ skirts lifted as they played. I could see their point, though. While not many seemed to be dedicated fans of either team, we had provided a bum and tit show straight out of some dirty old man’s most fevered fantasy.

We scored first in the second quarter, just as we had in the first, this time with Tiffany bouncing the ball to within feet of the Bitches’ line before passing to Becky, who popped it into the net with what seemed casual ease. She tried to do the same again a few moments later, only for Melody to crash into her at full speed. Becky went down, hit her head on the pole supporting the net and stayed where she was.

It was a blatant foul, and I found myself on my feet, yelling at the referee, along with Hudson and the rest of the girls. He just shook his head, made some remark about taking the knocks and raised his hand for a pause while poor Becky was helped up and the Princess ran out to replace her. My stomach went tight at the realisation that I was now first substitute. Becky had been led off by what passed for a physio and it didn’t look as if she was coming back.

The game began again, but the Bitches hadn’t done themselves any favours. Roberta was furious, playing like a whirlwind, and she’d scored another two goals within less than a minute. We were well ahead, twenty-nine to twenty-two, when we reached half-time, and I was now glancing at Maria Guerrero and wondering how it would feel to slide my dildo between the cheeks of her full, golden bottom while the crowd cheered and yelled for more.

It was only then that I realised how aroused the tension of the game and the prospect of what would come afterwards were making me, and perhaps also the display of female flesh in front of me, which might have been smutty but was also beautiful. I was wet, and my nipples were stiff, making little bumps in the pink fur of my bra top, while my bottom felt full and sensitive.

I pulled my attention back to the game as the scoreboard chimed to record yet another goal for Roberta and the Tails, giving us a ten-point lead. Hudson had cheered every one, and now so did I with equal enthusiasm, my normal shyness and embarrassment gone in the excitement.

We scored again a moment later, and I was imagining an easy victory when Melody and Felicita slammed into Bobby from either side, bringing her down. She hit the floor with a bone-jarring thump but bounced back immediately, glaring at Mel as she spat something I didn’t catch. Mel just laughed, but Shana was close, and responded by spitting at Bobby, the blob of phlegm catching her between her breasts.

Bobby responded instantly, lashing out to catch Shana across the face with an open slap. Shana reacted with a scream of rage and the two of them went down together, scratching and wrenching at each other’s clothes and hair. Bobby’s bra top had been pulled down in an instant, baring her tiny breasts, and she was obviously going to lose, with Shana firmly on top and indifferent to the display she was making of her bottom.

The crowd were anything but indifferent, whooping with joy at the show. Shana’s miniskirt was right up on her back, showing the full spread of her cheeks, the tight black dimple of her anus and a wet pink cunt between her long thighs, while her breasts were right in the desperately struggling Bobby’s face. The referee was laughing his head off, and when the crowd began to yell for Bobby to be stripped, Shana obliged, catching hold of the furry pink shorts and yanking them away with a single tug.

Bobby’s cunt came bare to yells of encouragement, and as she threw herself on to Shana in blind rage the crowd began to chant ‘Bitch fight! Bitch fight!’ ever louder. The girls were soon in a tangle of arms and legs and hair, bums and tits and flaunted pussies, and two of the cameramen had come right on to the court. The other girls had clustered close too, and it looked as if the entire match was going to end in mayhem when the referee finally stepped in.

He was a big man, and simply picked the girls up by their hair, pulling them apart and holding them at arm’s length. They were still spitting and cursing at each other, but quietened down after a moment, with the referee trying not to laugh as he spoke.

‘Off, both of you. Go and sit on your benches and cool your tails.’

Shana made to protest, but Bobby gave in straight-away, red-faced with anger and embarrassment as she hastily gathered up her torn costume and ran to us, whereupon Hudson put his coat around her shoulders. I gave her a kiss and would have cuddled up to her but for Hudson jerking a thumb towards the court.

‘Come on, Penny, you’re up!’

It was less than a minute since Bobby had been knocked over, and the implications hadn’t sunk in. Now they did, and I found myself staring numbly at the court, where Maria had already joined the Brooklyn Bitches and they were getting ready to restart. I had no choice but to step forward, to the position Bobby had been in, only for Tiffany to tell me sharply to move back as she motioned Jemima forward. Other than the vague outlines I’d picked up in training, and I hadn’t bothered to listen most of the time, all I knew was that the ball was supposed to go through the net at the far end of the court.

That was not enough. Within seconds I’d managed to commit a foul I didn’t even understand, and while the referee didn’t seem to care about girls ripping each other’s clothes off on the floor he definitely wasn’t inclined to go easy on me. I was also the shortest girl on the court, by at least five inches, and undoubtedly the least sporty. By the time the buzzer went for the third quarter our lead had fallen to just four points, but the referee declined Tiffany’s furious demands for Bobby to be allowed back on, threatening to send her off as well if she didn’t shut up.

All of them were glaring at me, even Jemima, and Hudson had his head in his hands, bringing me to the verge of tears as the game began once more. The others tried to avoid passing to me, but we were in a mess, while the Bitches constantly got the better of us, until the scores were only two points apart, and Tiffany was yelling at us to put everything into defence.

Abi May was right next to me, about to throw the ball, but I couldn’t even have reached it as she poised herself, and in it went, unerringly aimed from half the length of the court. The scoreboard chimed and they were ahead, at fifty-eight to fifty-seven, and I was sure there could be only moments left before the end of the game.

The game started up one more time, there was a frantic scrabble in the middle of the court and the ball bounced loose, slowly and right into my hands, so that even I couldn’t drop it. Time seemed to slow, the screams of the girls hanging in the air as I lifted the ball, threw it high, and watched it sail clean over the net and the board behind, to land in the lap of a man dressed in a lime-green suit over a black shirt, just as the buzzer went to signal the end of the game.

We’d lost, by a single point, and I could only stare aghast at the scoreboard. It wasn’t my fault, not really. It was Talana’s for throwing a tantrum and not showing up. It was Melody’s for playing dirty. It was Bobby’s for getting into a fight. Somehow I knew that the others weren’t going to see it that way.