Rematch

CHAPTER 3

When I was injured, I made sure nobody noticed by wearing jogging pants all the time to hide the knee immobilizers. Most of them just thought my limp was just from a sprained foot. I also had the medical certificate with me to inform my instructors why I couldn't be in the usual uniform. But they all eventually found out during the agonizing months that I had to use crutches.

So now that I have been liberated of any wraps and walking sticks and what-not, I wanted everyone to know too. By wearing a denim mid-thigh-high skirt that must have been rotting inside my closet because even prior to my unfortunate freshman year, I wasn't really the skirt type. But somehow the fashion sense rubbed off on me. I guess it was normal when you're around girls for almost two years.

The subtle announcement was warmly welcomed with hugs from practically every girl who saw me the moment I got out of our room at the dorm the next morning. It gave me hope that everything would get back to normal soon. If not my knees, then at least the way the people around would treat me.

The usual schedule ensued as far as summer classes were concerned (even though it actually was the beginning of the rainy season) but most of the instructors were not around as they were needed at the grounds for preparation. That left the Block Heads and Student Council to oversee not the actual students taking classes, but those who were loitering around just because Berkeley athletes-slash-heartthrobs were close by. So while a lot of the Reagan girls were at the grounds fangirling over the likes of Geo, his twin Matt, plus Zach, I slipped to the Reagan library, determined not to concern myself with the Sports Fest and just focus on finishing the seatworks for my summer subjects. I found myself sharing the room with the grade-conscious types.

What I realized during my 'invalid state' was that if positivity was a choice, so was negativity. And I guess the negative vibe I had kept in the past year would take a while to disappear. Because being in the library made me bitterly think about what I had been reduced to-just a normal studious girl.

I wasn't one of the genius kids who didn't need to study to make sure they get high grades on an exam. I had to stay up late to get an 'A'. I had to work hard to get into the Dean's List. Any diligent student could achieve that. But not all academic achievers could do well when it came to extra-curricular activities, especially with sports.

I made sure I did.

Since basketball was the only sport that my Dad knew, I pestered him to teach me everyday beginning third grade. What my Dad was unable to teach me, I learned from playing with the boys my age around the neighborhood which was how I came to be friends with the Anderson twins. And it was pure satisfaction beating the boys at their game. So I kept at it and always looked for ways to improve.

I had always been an achiever, my Mom said, like I always had to prove myself. Until senior high.

Until Jarlin Trance came into the picture and had proven me wrong. He showed me that pure talent beat hard work. Pure talent got anyone scouted for greater career opportunities while hard work just got some people VIP tickets at awarding ceremonies of the talented ones. It was a constant reminder that greatness for us was so near yet so far. Always second best but never the best.

So now that I couldn't play at a hundred percent anymore made me feel utterly insignificant. My years of honing myself put to waste.

"Jazz, you've got a message," Madelaine, the student assistant at the library whispered as she passed a paper to me.

My eyebrows met seeing that it was signed by Sir Joey Lima, coach of the Reagan Amazons Basketball Team. He was requesting me to see him.

I wanted to ask why I was being summoned by the coach. He was always checking up on the state of my knees, wondering when I would be back to play with the team. I kept telling him I needed more time. Eventually, he caved in and said I had to sit this year out to be sure I had enough time to heal for the games next year instead.