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Post by icarus on Jul 30, 2011 17:55:31 GMT
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It wasn't like Icarus to get withing ten kilometers of the basketball court. He avoided any buildings to do with sports like the plague...and tended to stick to that rule. But during the first few weeks he had head about the basketball team, apparently they were doing well. They had won all of their games so far that season and had even started to hold tryouts for a reserve team.
But Icarus wasn't there for the tryouts, his hand-eye coordination was nonexistent. Without his glasses he was almost unable to see his hand in front of his face. He was there, in fact, to find a justification as to why the basketball team had been given extra funding, when the Chess Team had to cancel their annual trip to a convention with other schools.
Icarus had woken up bright and early, showered and dressed as quickly as he could to make his way down to the courts just as the team came onto the floor. Settling himself down on the bleachers, he watched them, feeling a little self-conscious as there were only two other people watching them train. He assumed they were friends or -eugh - a little more. The team didn't really pay him much attention, a couple of them pointed at laughed, but he was used to it. Maybe they thought he wanted to try out for the team? Urgh, they really were stupid. He just wanted to talk to one of them...but they were staying as far away as possible...as usual.
Until suddenly he found a basketball in his lap. Oh gosh no, they wanted him to throw it to them? He couldn't do that...no way. He'd hit someone, or something. No, he would just...er...panic?
[/blockquote][/blockquote] [/center][/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - tagalltimelow musichereoutfitcountme cause im awesome creditnotes |
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Post by summer on Jul 31, 2011 2:28:57 GMT
  Isla found herself being of three spectators at today’s basketball practice. It was not every day that she paid tribute to the Winchester Community College team. One could easily assume that she knew just about no one on the team, but could you really blame her? There was nothing attractive about arrogant aggressive assholes tossing an orange ball into a hole. Except maybe their biceps … and the uniforms … and sexy sweat. Okay. I take that back. It’s only the superficial things that are attractive. Everything else sucks.
Contrary to popular belief –all two- she wasn’t there to ogle the players like some eager groupie. No, Isla had more pride, or what she liked to call common sense, than that. The reason why she would wake at this god forsaken early hour was for her job freelancing. Her newest and most recent gig was to capture a fellow basketball ball player, number 11 if remembered correctly, and take pictures of him in action, hence the dragging herself out of the blissful comfort of her freshly washed comforter to catch morning practice. His girlfriend, who happened to be in several of her business classes, approached her one day and gave her the job. His birthday was apparently coming up very soon and she wanted to do something big for his twenty first. Nothing screams HAPPY BIRTHDAY like a scrapbook! Well at least in her mind it did. Isla honestly want to tell her to just buy him a pack of beer and be done with it. But she really needed the job. Not many other offers were coming in and the new photo editing software she avidly saved for cost a whopping 260 bucks.
Sitting cross-legged on the bleachers, she pulled out her equipment then attached her lens to her rebel t2i. Isla worked mechanically, altering the camera functions to the appropriate settings until she heard obnoxious snickering coming from bellow her. Lifting her head from her lap where her camera lay and onto the court, she saw a handful of the boys pointing and laughing at the kid one bleacher to the left. He sort of sat there for the longest second, probably contemplating on what move to make next. She knelt down near him, nudged him arm softly, then murmured, ”I think they want you to throw that back …” As if the aggravating shouts and insults for the ball weren’t clear enough.
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Post by icarus on Aug 1, 2011 17:33:19 GMT
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Icarus was so surprised that someone had sat next to him that he almost threw the ball in their face. It was a girl. Oh god. Oh no. Way to make things worse. He could feel a red tint to his cheeks as he heard the shouting get louder. Come On Icky! Give's the ball! came one, Icky's sticky fingers have stuck to it, his greasy nose has probably ruined it! came another.
Icarus was bright red by the time he plucked up the courage to throw the ball back and of course, it ended up exactly where it wasn't supposed to go. The face of the center player was almost as red as his, but not from embarrassment, from a basket ball hitting him square in the face. I'm gonna get you, you slime ball the boy growled as his team mates gathered around to inspect the damage.
Oh no Icarus groaned, sitting back down in his seat and pulling his knees up to his chest. It was a few moments later when he realized there was still a girl sat beside him. She was probably laughing at him too, she'd tell all her friends and it would go around the college like wildfire. Just like the time the football team hung him on the flagpole. Or when Perry Buchanon took a photo of Icarus in the swimming pool after someone had pulled his shorts down. Today wasn't Icarus' day, no day was Icarus' day.
He looked down and buried his face in his knees, not looking at the girl for the longest time. Sorry, you can hit me later, I'll make it up to you, he said slowly, guessing that was why she was there.
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Post by summer on Aug 1, 2011 22:18:59 GMT
Sitting there listening to the team’s ridiculing remarks was enough to put Isla, a generally happy and content person, into a sickening mood. It was one thing to belittle someone for that quick second of superiority but it was another to be a third party bystander and watching the scene unfold before your eyes. Her face twisted from nonchalant indifference to one of clear distaste. Sticky fingers? Slime ball? she thought inwardly chuckling at their ‘witty’ taunts. Those were comebacks fit for five year olds.
A sense of pride and justice filled her body when the boy finally plucked enough courage to throw the ball back into the court, resulting in one satisfying thwack on the center player (ironically enough, the player she had to photograph.) It was highly advised that Isla not make herself known since her job details required her to be inconspicuous - her employer was throwing a SURPRISE party after all – but it was just too hard to resist snapping a few quick frames of the red faced center player, who seemed to be fuming enough for smoke to toot out his ears. And like the little bitch he is, his friends had to crowd around him like worried mothers to inspect the damage that could have potentially marred his face. She took a brief glance at the boy next to her. He seemed just as red, but not from humiliation but attention. It was adamantly clear that the basketball to the face way unintentional on his part, but karma had a funny way of working things out. If not the ball, it could’ve been an untied shoe lace causing him to trip. Either option would have brought justice to the world.
Isla resisted grinning like a Cheshire cat while she scrolled through the several shots of the boy’s flustered face after getting hit square in the face. She settled for a close-lipped smirk instead. The tortured groaning noise coming beside her snapped her attention from her camera screen to the mystery kid before her once more. A puzzling look on her face passed as she watched him curl up in a ball and burry and his face in his knees. It was replaced with a look of bewilderment as he slowly spoke. His body seemed to naturally tense, as if preparing itself for a blow in the gut he so expected her to give. ”Hit you?” Isla flustered eyes wide. ”I could kiss you!” She exclaimed in a loud whisper before truly processing the words that spewed out of her mouth. She saw him as a regular guy with the powers of a super hero. Superman complex if you will. He brought justice to the world with his kick ass aim, even Clark Kent would be proud! ”What you did was amazing!” Isla continued to shower him with accolades, though this time with a quieter reverence. ”It was about time he took a good ball to the face."
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Post by icarus on Aug 26, 2011 21:01:03 GMT
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Icarus looked up, completely confused...she wasn't going to hit him? He frowned and was about to ask why, but thought better of it. Keep you head down Icarus, he told himself, sitting up a little straighter before he head what she said next.
A-amazing? Oh no...it was just bad luck...I didn't mean to hit him, he babbled, collecting his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He was getting ready to go, making a get-away before practice ended and he was subjected to a little more humiliation.
He smiled at her and squeezed past before glancing at her camera and the red face of the jock looking at him through it. He gasped ans sat back down next to her. You have to delete it! Please, I'll do anything...I'll do your homework for a month, a year, please, you can't let anyone see. They'll kill me, he said, and for once he wasn't sure if he was just being over-dramatic or he really meant it.
He knew they would be after him, but photographic evidence? That was terrible. He tangled his fingers together, hoping she would understand. Even if she promised not to show it to anyone, someone could get a hold of her camera to look at her photos and see it...and then it would get around and he would be in more trouble. He looked down at his shoes and bit his lip, maybe she wanted to get him into trouble.
Why did he always think the worst of people? Why had so many bad experiences made him a nervous wreck? He never understood, which infuriated him more, because he hated not understanding things.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] [/center][/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - sorry this took so long! lost all my Icarus musings and sort of left him behind!
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