The whistle screeched, and the silent gym erupted into motion. Right out of the gate, we all rushed for the red rubber balls. The sound of squeaking sneakers filled the air. The first casualties followed not even five seconds in, as a red blur came whooshing right past my left, where it found its target in Marcus's stomach to no one's surprise, as he crumpled to the ground clutching his gut.
"Haha, what a loser, game just started, fatty," cackled Charlie on the Red team, who then mocked Marcus's action of clutching his gut, only to eat one right in the chest a heartbeat later. The gym roared with laughter. Instant karma.
Within a minute, bodies were either jogging or crawling off to the bleachers. Some muttered curses, others were glad to still have their body parts intact, and honestly, I don't blame them. I weaved one high to my neck and jumped over one going straight for my shins. The next one almost connected with my jaw had I not bent backward into a somersault.
The warzone wasn't letting up as I rose to a knee. Wade was letting loose a storm of different throws with different spins. I saw him wind up an underhand toss windmill style, and calling it "a toss" was putting it nicely. The way that ball was spinning, you would have thought it was a wheel on a NASCAR. It struck poor skinny Alicia on her side (totally gonna feel that in the morning). She crawled off to the bench, and just like that, it was a 5 v 5. Coach blew his whistle like he always did when both teams were at five or below to signal halftime (also his chance to go get more snacks from the break room while watching the game).
I stood, trying to take in this small moment of peace and catch my breath. On our side were I, Stanlee, Keisha, and the twins, Barry and Connor. On the other side were Maxie, Carlos, Manuel, Jonas, and the hothead himself, Wade. His eyes gleamed with delight that I was still on the battlefield, like a lion sizing up his prey.
"Listen up y'all," Wade said, "Kevin is mine; I don't care what you do with the rest."
Carlos snickered, "You guys have done well to make it this far; however, this is as far as it goes."
"You speak as though you've already won," Stanlee said.
Wade's eyes narrowed, "Don't tell me you five actually believe you stand a chance against us."
"That's exactly what I'm saying, my guy," Stanlee said, readjusting his glasses, "The playing field is even for once; usually by this point it'd be five on two or three."
"Your point?" Wade said, clearly annoyed.
Stanlee walks up so that he stands beside me. "What my bro Kevin said to you last Friday, "Stanlee smirked, "you ain't crap without Jackal, your his lapdog."
The gym erupted with gasps, oohs, snickers, and woofs all from the bleachers. I glanced back at the twins and Keisha; their expressions were the same as mine: shocked. Knowing Stanlee, though, this seemed part of some plan of his, so we stayed hushed.
Wade walked up to Stanlee until he was inches from both our faces, "You got a death wish, homie." Wade's face was beet red.
Stanlee sighed, "Pick one already, either be a wannabe thug or a grim reaper."
Muffled snickers broke out in the silence. Wade launched the ball at the bleachers, and the ten players on the bench scattered as the missile-like shot of the dodgeball ricocheted into the metal bleachers, echoing in the gymnasium.
"Whoa, whoa, temper, temper, hothead," Stanlee jeered, "You wouldn't be this pissed unless it is in fact true."
Wade just glared at him. His glare felt like scissors were cutting the air itself. For a quick second, the hair on my arms rose.
"How about this?" Stanlee said, "If we lose, we do 25 push-ups and give you and your squad our chocolate chip cookies from lunch."
Wade didn't flinch. "You're on."
"I didn't finish," Stanlee said as he rolled his eyes. "However, if we win, we get your cookies and you admit to the class that you're a fraud who can't win without his 'gang leader.'"
"Ha, like that's ever gonna happen," Wade laughed, "This game is already over."
Right on cue, Coach K returns with his caramel popcorn, like this was prime time TV. "Red team, Blue team to your sides," he said.
While walking back, Keisha bumped into Stanlee purposefully.
"Are you trying to get us sent to the infirmary all day?" Keisha sneered.
"Yeah," Barry said, "we don't match up to their master class lineup."
Conner nods in agreement, "It's gonna be a massacre, a full-on sweep; we won't get a single out."
Stanlee shook his head, "Nope, Wade will be focused on trying to take me and Kevin out, ya see, so you three just need to catch the balls being thrown by anyone that's not Wade; that's how we'll beat them," he said.
"Seriously, so we're just basing everything on chance now?" Keisha said.
"Not really," I said, "I know Wade better than anyone; he gets tunnel visioned when he's all 'I'm Vengeance.'"
Stanlee claps his hands, "Bingo, Kevin, so you and I just need to weave all his oncoming throws and pitches long enough for it to be just him out there." Stanlee made a finger gun motion. "Then we can outgun him and win."
"I really hope you're right," Keisha scoffs, "'cause I'll send you to the infirmary myself before they do."
"Yippee," Stanlee smirked, "You'll thank me after we win."
Keisha and the twins walked towards the wall. I was on my way with them when Stanlee grabbed my shoulder.
"Kevin, listen up. I have two other plans that'll lead us to victory, but for both to work, I need to know if you're down to take a risk, even if it means getting hurt."
I glanced at the opposite end of the gym floor. Wade was scowling and stretching. The look on his face sent chills down my spine. I looked back at Stanlee, with sheer determination, "Lay it on me, what's the master plan, cap?"