Chapter Seven The Crimson Falcons

CHAPTER SEVEN THE CRIMSON FALCONS

Millie had an outfit for everything, so when she showed up at the riverside courts on Saturday, I was unsurprised to find her wearing a tiny pair of shorts and the tightest basketball jersey I had ever seen. She pushed her way through pockets of other teenagers, waltzing towards me in an explosion of black and red.

‘I didn’t know you were a Bulls fan.’

‘Oh, didn’t you?’ She smirked and plonked herself down beside me on the bottom bench of the courtside bleachers.

‘Let me rephrase that,’ I said as she began to wind her hair into a ponytail. ‘I didn’t even know you were a basketball fan.’

‘I guess you could say I’m more of a boys fan.’ She snapped the hair elastic into place. ‘The top belongs to Alex. It shrank in the wash.’ She grinned unashamedly.

I looked down at myself: at my mother’s three-quarter-length jogging pants, a plain grey tank top and an old pair of Asics with bright green stripes. My hair was tied high on my head, falling down between my shoulder blades in a straight ponytail. Already I could tell the sun was bleaching the stray baby hairs that were too wispy to be tied back with the rest.

Millie ran her gaze along my outfit, scrunching her nose.

‘You look…’ she began uncertainly.

‘… normcore?’ I finished.

Exercise wasn’t exactly my calling in life, but I was grateful to have something to distract me from my uncle’s recent behaviour. He had been gone for several days since his whole honeypot-patio freak-out and still hadn’t tried to contact me. Ursula was in charge of the diner in his absence. She had reacted the worst to the death of Luis, and had resolved never to take a bath again, just in case she drowned herself. Millie and I were slightly less dramatic about it, but we were still glad to be free of her morbid rants, at least just for the day.

We never usually played in the Cedar Hill Summer Basketball Tournament. Not that the word ‘tournament’ really summed it up. It was more of a basketball-related gathering hosted by the Cedar Hill Residents’ Association every July. As part of an ever-growing agenda that included park maintenance, a neighbourhood watch and outdoor movie nights, the CHRA were always coming up with ideas that would keep us teenagers off the street and out of trouble in a ‘socially desirable and positive way’ during the summer. The basketball tournament was one of the few that had actually stuck, and over the years it had become a tradition that everyone made fun of but no one wanted to miss. It was really about the only thing the neighbourhood kids actually did together; the rest of the summer we were like lazy suburban tumbleweeds, floating around the town in twos and threes.

For Millie and me, the whole thing had always been more of a spectacle enjoyed from the sidelines while eating ice cream and pointing out hot boys, but in the interest of ‘getting back up on the social horse’, as Millie called it, we had decided to take part this summer. I was hesitant at best; if nobody wanted to hang out with the daughter of a murderer, who would want to play basketball with one? Thankfully, Millie’s brother, Alex, had invited us to be part of his team. I suspected it was a way to make it more of a challenge for him – the trophies from the past three years were probably gathering dust on his bedroom shelf by now.

‘We might actually win this thing, you know.’ Millie was reclining on the bench, arms splayed out behind her as she scoped out our surroundings.

As always, there were twice as many spectators squishing themselves into the bleachers and spilling out on to the grass that surrounded the courts. Erin Reyes and the rest of her gang had already secured a prime vantage spot at the top of the bleachers. Instead of playing in the tournament, they would most likely be practising how to eat their popsicles as seductively as possible. They were already doing an uncomfortably good job. Just beyond the courts the river flowed lazily, reflecting the clear sky, and along the bank, rows of young trees bowed over the water like they were peering inside for something.

‘I remember the last time I played basketball,’ said Millie wistfully. She stared up at the sky and I could see the sun was already dusting freckles across her pale cheeks. ‘I was trying to pass the ball to Alex, but he missed it and it smashed the kitchen window.’

‘Good times,’ I remembered fondly.

‘What about you?’ She snapped her head down.

‘Maybe never?’

Little creases rippled along Millie’s forehead. ‘I’m sure you’ll be good at it.’

‘You better be,’ someone interrupted.

Millie’s brother, Alex, was stalking towards us, his grin revealing nearly all of his perfectly square teeth. He was accompanied by two of his friends – the first I recognized as Robbie Stenson, a stockier, way less attractive version of a Ken doll, who came complete with floppy brown hair and overly groomed eyebrows. He didn’t walk so much as lope around, kind of like a stylish troll. The other boy I had seen once or twice at Millie’s house playing video games, but he never seemed to say much. He had bright red hair, gangly limbs and a forehead that was shinier than the rest of him.

Millie bounced to her feet. ‘It’s about time you showed up. We have a tournament to win.’

‘Soph, you know Stenny and Foxy, right?’ Alex indicated behind him.

Ah, boys and their stupid nicknames . ‘Yeah, hi.’ I waved.

Robbie Stenson gave me a too-cool-for-this-introduction head nod – so subtle I barely registered it – while ‘Foxy’ threw a fluorescent yellow vest at me. I fumbled it and had to bend down to pick it up. They were obviously less than thrilled about having me on their team.

Millie caught her vest on reflex and then dropped it like it was on fire. ‘No way. I’m not wearing this. It reeks of sweat.’

‘Are you serious?’ Alex’s voice was already weary with sibling-related fatigue.

Millie curled her lip in disgust. ‘I’d literally rather die.’ I suppressed my smile. Their British accents made even the most banal exchanges sound way more Masterpiece Theatre than they had any right to be.

Robbie, Foxy and I put our vests on without protest; mine fell to my knees and halfway down my arms, engulfing everything but my luminous kicks. Eventually, and after some not-so-subtle peer pressure on my part, Millie wriggled into hers.

‘You’re such a tyrant,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘At least your legs still look good,’ I tried to reassure her. But we couldn’t hide from the ugly truth. We were both swimming in oversized fluorescence.

‘We’re up on court one first,’ Alex started, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. ‘Our team name is the Sharp-shooters.’

Millie and I grimaced. ‘That’s the worst name ever,’ we chorused.

‘Why don’t you come up with something better, then?’ Alex challenged.

‘Oh, oh, oh!’ Millie started hopping up and down. ‘What about Victorious Secret?’

Alex’s face fell, and Foxy let out a groan.

‘That doesn’t even make sense,’ Robbie cut in.

‘How about the Human Highlighters?’ I suggested, gesturing at our hideously luminous vests.

‘Fine.’ Alex threw his hands up in surrender, and Robbie and Foxy nodded their reluctant consent. ‘We’ll change it.’

Millie cupped her hands around her mouth and made her voice sound crackly. ‘That’s one small step for Sophie, one giant leap for Alex’s sense of humour.’

Robbie sprinted off to reregister our name, leaving us with Foxy and Alex, who was already taking the whole situation a million times more seriously than we were.

‘I’ve done a little recon,’ he said, conveying his info like a Navy SEAL. ‘A lot of the other players are younger than us this year, which gives us the advantage…’

Millie punched me in the arm and my attention fell away from her brother. ‘What?’

‘Now you’re literally going to die.’ Her eyes had grown to the size of saucers, and I swivelled to follow her gaze. ‘That’s them, right? The Priestly brothers?’

She wasn’t fully wrong about the dying thing. My heart definitely slowed down for at least a couple of beats. Across the far court, the Priestly brothers were coming towards us; there were four of them this time, their connection to each other made plain by their olive skin and dark hair.

‘I never thought I’d actually find basketball shorts attractive on a guy,’ was all I could manage.

‘I was just thinking that,’ said Millie.

What the hell are they even doing here? I wondered. Most of us had come for tradition’s sake – it was a pleasant enough way to kill time, a last resort on a sunny day for a bunch of kids who had nothing better to do. But these boys weren’t like the rest of Cedar Hill. I would have thought them above the idea of attending some lame neighbourhood basketball tournament.

Luca was walking next to Nic, his face stern, and a new brother flanked them on either side. They probably could have nailed a five-legged race if they’d wanted to.

By the way the brothers seemed to zero in on Luca as he spoke, I assumed he was the eldest, though the others, the two I had yet to meet and who were remarkably similar to each other in appearance, could not have been that far behind – maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. They were shorter and more filled out, though they shared the same square jaws and strong cheekbones. I guessed Nic was the youngest of the four, though not by much.

‘Holy handsomeness!’ Millie was practically salivating. ‘Four Italian stallions carved from my dreams. Which one is Nic?’

My eyes hadn’t left him. ‘The one with the dark hair.’

‘Ha ha, very funny.’

‘Second from the right.’

‘Wow. And Luca?’

‘Second from the left.’

Millie whistled to herself. ‘ Hello , blue eyes.’

Alex prodded her in the shoulder. ‘Are you done? We’re trying to talk tactics.’

‘Shut up,’ she hissed, shaking him off. ‘I’m in the middle of something.’ She narrowed her eyes, honing in. ‘OK, who’s on the far right? The one with the slicked-back hair? And is that a scar ?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe we should call him Hair Gel.’

The closer they got, the more obvious it became that they were capturing the attention of every girl in the vicinity, and they looked like they knew it too. I wondered where the fifth brother was – the bright-eyed boy from the window who’d raised his hand without a smile – but the thought vanished when Nic’s eyes found mine and I nearly exploded with butterflies.

‘Hi,’ he mouthed.

I smiled back, resisting the urge to clutch my stupid, back-flipping stomach.

‘Holy crap, that was seductive.’ Millie was hopping from foot to foot. ‘They’re coming over. Be cool.’

Like helpless magnets, we drifted towards the brothers, leaving Alex and his sidekicks to talk boring strategy behind us, determined, like every boy at the basketball courts, to ignore the new arrivals. My uncle’s warning, which had seemed so urgent and important at the time, flittered away on the wind. If these boys were really bad news, as Jack seemed to think, then suddenly I was happy to be Icarus, ready to get all melty from flying too close to the suns.

‘Hey,’ I called out. ‘I didn’t know you’d be playing today.’

Nic stopped a couple of feet away and the rest of his brothers closed in around us. ‘It was a last-minute decision. Now I’m glad we made it.’

Millie pinched me. It was her silent version of an excited squeal.

‘Nice vest, Sophie,’ said Luca, straight off the bat. ‘I can barely see you.’

‘Luca.’ I tore my attention away from Nic for the amount of time needed to throw his brother a contemptuous glare. ‘A pleasure, as always.’

The brother beside him laughed. He had the stupidest hairstyle: the top section of his hair was scraped into a short black ponytail, while the sides of his head were shaved, revealing a small golden hoop in his left ear. Despite the ridiculous plant hairstyle, he was attractive, but when he laughed, his eyes widened unnaturally and his opened mouth revealed two chipped front teeth that made him seem slightly maniacal. He reminded me of that one crazy hyena in The Lion King .

‘Ignore Luca. That’s just his bad attempt at trash-talking you,’ Nic cut in, sending his brother a glare on my behalf.

‘And my way of pointing out that she’s small,’ Luca added.

‘Thanks, Sherlock. I know I’m small.’

‘Just making sure.’

‘Do you even have a brain-to-mouth filter?’ I asked.

‘I try not to overuse it,’ he returned blithely.

‘Clearly.’

‘Don’t cry about it, Day-Glo.’

‘Shut up, Luca.’ Nic threw his red vest over his head and pulled it down. ‘I think you make it look good, Sophie.’

‘ Cazzo , here we go again,’ muttered Luca. He rolled his eyes and then leant into Ponytail, adding in a calculated whisper, ‘ This is what he was like at the diner. It was so annoying.’

‘You know, Luca, you’re really good at strategically muttering things just loud enough to be offensive.’

‘Thank you, Sophie.’ His tone lifted, rendering his false sincerity almost believable. ‘I appreciate that.’

‘I should get you a medal.’

‘Don’t bother,’ he said, a lazy smirk forming. ‘After today, I’ll have a trophy.’

I curled my lip. ‘I know what you can do with that trophy…’

Millie’s laugh drowned out the rest of my reply. She hugged her arm around my side, pinching me through the vest. Squeal, squeal, squeal .

‘So what’s your team’s name?’ Nic cut in, guiding the conversation out of the gutter.

I puffed up my chest and brushed the stray strands of now-white hair away from my face. ‘The Human Highlighters.’

Luca snorted.

‘What’s yours?’ asked Millie, but she wasn’t directing her question at Nic; she was looking at Hair Gel, her teeth gently pulling at her bottom lip.

I zeroed in on his face – Millie was right, there was a scar. It was obviously an old injury, slicing through his left eyebrow and glowing silvery against his tanned skin. On instinct, I glanced at Nic’s bruised hand, and felt an uneasiness bubbling in my stomach. I pushed it away.

‘The Crimson Falcons,’ Hair Gel replied to Millie, falling right into her trap and watching her lips hungrily.

‘Intense,’ said Millie, her expression entirely coquettish.

‘It was either that or the Angel-makers,’ Luca added. His humour was so deadpan, sometimes I didn’t know if he was funny or just insane.

‘Stop it.’ Nic punched Luca in the arm with an audible thump, but his brother didn’t flinch. If I had received that hit I would have been on the ground screaming for my mother.

‘ Calmati! I think I’d better diffuse this,’ Hair Gel cut in, moving easily from one language to the next, just like Nic and Luca did. It was hard to tell which was their real accent – American or Italian. Hair Gel leant over to shake our hands, holding Millie’s a little longer than mine and, I noticed, stroking his thumb over hers. Maybe Millie had finally met her flirting match. ‘I’m Domenico. You can call me Dom, though.’

Millie broke into the creepiest giggle I’ve ever heard. ‘I’m Millie. This is Sophie. Welcome to the neighbourhood.’

Welcome to the neighbourhood? I’d have to tease her about that later. Maybe she could stop by his house with a basket of muffins.

‘Thank you. Do you work at the diner as well, Millie?’ Dom lingered over her name like it was a beautiful flower. His charm offensive was almost as powerful as Nic’s, but his eyes were darker, his expression intense. I studied his scar as he moved away from me, beginning his own hushed conversation with Millie.

I felt Nic’s attention on me again. ‘Good luck today,’ he offered earnestly.

‘Thanks, you too.’ There were other things I wanted to say to him, but with Luca and Ponytail watching us I could barely utter a word without feeling self-conscious.

‘We don’t need luck,’ Luca interrupted, prompting another exasperated thump from Nic.

‘Luca,’ Ponytail whined. His voice was abnormally high and not unlike Marge Simpson’s, and for a terrifying moment I thought I was going to laugh in his face. He frowned, and his eyebrows bled into one fuzzy caterpillar above coffee-coloured eyes. ‘Can we just go register?’

‘Yeah, let’s go, Gino. We shouldn’t be fraternizing with our competition anyway.’ Luca elbowed Nic as he retreated. ‘ Andiamo , Loverboy.’

‘I should probably go get ready,’ Nic offered apologetically. ‘Wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of our wonderful dictator.’

‘Same here,’ I said, but both of us still lingered. ‘Where’s the rest of your team anyway? Don’t you have a fifth player?’

He shook his head with more casualness than I was expecting. I was hoping he’d mention the fifth brother, at least give me a clue as to why he hadn’t come or even that he did, in fact, exist, and I hadn’t imagined a creepy ghost boy at the window that first night. ‘We’re a foursome.’

‘So you’re at a disadvantage,’ I noted. ‘That’s a risky move.’

Nic did something with his eyes that made the flecks of gold inside them glisten. I wasn’t sure if it was a secret superpower or the effect of the sun, but it was damn effective. And a little jarring, though I still couldn’t figure out why.

‘You’re welcome to be our number five,’ he whispered conspiratorially. ‘I promise I’ll keep Luca away from you.’

I bit my lip to keep my smile from bordering on disturbing. ‘I’m not sure Millie would ever forgive me if I jumped ship.’

‘Ah, I see.’ He feigned the look of a puppy that had just been kicked. ‘You’re too noble for that.’

‘And surely you’re too honourable to steal me from her.’

‘No, I’m not.’

I felt a blush rise in my cheeks. ‘Well, I’ll have to be honourable enough for both of us, then. Besides,’ I added, trying to justify my refusal to myself, ‘we’re up in a minute, and we’ve already missed our strategy session. I don’t want to annoy the rest of my team any more than I already have.’

‘Where are they?’

I gestured behind me at Alex and the rest of the yellow vests, who were in the middle of an intense set of jumping jacks.

Nic’s smile faded. ‘That blond guy?’

‘That’s Millie’s brother and two of his friends. I think she bribed them into letting us on their team.’

Nic studied Alex and the others as they started to bend themselves into elaborate stretches. ‘I’m sure the bribe wasn’t necessary.’

‘Soph.’ Millie was back and tugging on my arm. ‘We gotta go. Our game is about to start.’

Dom had stepped away from her and I caught a glimpse of his scar again. Though he couldn’t have been much older than us, something about it aged him, made him other than what he appeared. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. He caught me watching him and smirked, his expression suddenly wolfish.

I looked away, embarrassed.

‘See you guys on the court!’ Millie pulled me with her, wiggling her butt a lot more than she usually did as she walked.

When I waved at Nic he was still staring at Alex. He didn’t wave back.

We won our first game in time to watch the Crimson Falcons play Saved by the Balls on the opposite court. The Priestly brothers were fascinating to watch; even Alex, who had expressed a deliberate disinterest in them since their arrival, was glued to the game. Nic and Dom were the most obviously athletic, whipping up the court in flashes of red. They scored most of their baskets, only occasionally deferring to Gino, who seemed to be more adept at intimidating the other players than actually playing against them. Maybe it was the ponytail.

Luca glided around the sidelines, and when the opportune moment arose, he’d strike from the shadows like a viper, snatching the ball out of the opposition’s hands before the other player even had time to notice Luca was there. But that’s all he did: intercept. I didn’t see him make one single basket. He didn’t even break a sweat.

Our game against The Flying Squirrels started before the Priestly game finished, though it was clear that, like us, they would be advancing to the next round. We won by a comfortable margin of 21–12. Alex did most of the work, followed by Foxy and then Robbie. Millie was a very distant last, but she made it clear she didn’t care. She was there to make an appearance, and if her fingers happened to brush against a basketball by accident, then fine.

We watched the Priestly brothers win their second game with more ease than we did. In our third game we were up against the Thunder Squirrels. I became acutely aware of Nic’s presence on the sidelines and decided to make more of a conscious effort this time. Millie seemed to have concocted a similar plan, because for once she wasn’t squealing and running away from the ball. She was actually chasing it.

By the end of our third quarter, the brothers were on the other court, winning their game as well, which meant both of our teams were going to the finals.