Lucas and The Time-Traveling Fog

As soon as I got dressed, I headed to the gym. After Mr. Jones, my gym teacher, took attendance, he said to all of us, “We are going to be doing something different today. I want everyone to get into groups of two when I blow my whistle.” All I could think was, Oh great! Just please let me be paired up with anyone but Henry.

Mr. Jones blew his whistle, and it was like a madhouse. I immediately tried to find somebody, anybody. But wherever I looked, there was already a group of two forming. All the while, Henry was just standing there, whistling away. Mr. Jones spotted me and shouted, “Walter, what are you doing standing around? Find a partner!”

“I-I-I can’t find one,” I stuttered.

Henry then walked up to us and said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Jones. I’ll be Walter’s partner.”

“Thank you, Robinson. Alright, Walter, your problem is solved. By the way, you two boys might want to cover your ears right now.”

Screech, Beeeep!

“Alright, students,” said Mr. Jones, “the reason why you are in groups of two today is because we are going to play a new game that I like to call Double Horse. Now, you probably have played something close to this back at home, but we are doing something different. I am going to assign you a team number, and you are going to face off with odds vs. evens.

The goal is simple... don’t get a horse! But keep in mind this is only a game, but you’re getting graded, so no cheating... I’m watching you, Robinson. If I see anyone else cheat, then both you and your partner are out of the game, and you get a zero for the day. Plus, I am gonna make you run laps for the rest of the period. Do I make myself clear?”

We all chorused, “Yes, sir!” Then Mr. Jones began to assign us team numbers by counting us off, “One, Two, Three.” Just as he was assigning group 4, Henry hit my shoulder and said, “You better not mess this up for us, Gary.”

Mr. Jones then got to us and said, ’You two are number five.” We both nodded, and Mr. Jones moved on to the next group. When he finally finished counting the last team, he said, “Now that each team has a number, I will assign you a court to play on. If you lose the game, the losers need to move to the next court on the right. Winners stay put. Starting out on court one, we have…..five and six.” We both nodded, and I volunteered to grab us a basketball. His instructions were all a bit fuzzy to me, so I asked, “Uh, how do we start the game?”

Henry said, “Well, I don’t know what people in California do, but around here, chickens go last. Just then, he grabbed the ball from my hands and took the first shot. So, we go first.” No big deal, right? But the only problem is that he never let me have the ball — ever. The only thing he did was wait out the clock and dominate the floor with his little jukes and shots while I just stood and watched the show.

As I was helplessly watching Henry beat one team after another, something extraordinary happened—he messed up. I mean, he completely messed up! All he had to make was a basic free throw. Now when the ball was floating in the air, it seemed like time went into slow motion. The basketball hit the rim twice. Once hitting the backboard and again hitting the left side of the rim, and then it fell to the ground — bang! It seemed like the whole gym echoed.

Everyone was shocked when he missed. All Henry could say to me was, “Don’t mess up,” as he passed the basketball to me hard into my chest. But before I made my shot, one of the members of team six named James said, “What are you talking about, Henry? It’s not Gary’s turn yet; it’s mine since you missed. That’s how the game works, remember?” James then grabbed the basketball from my hands.

James tried to make an easy layup with one hand, but he didn’t even make it to the net. He tripped on his own two feet before he could even make the shot. We all laughed at him while he was getting back up on his feet. But he begged us to let him try again. We all said, “No way, you almost had it, but you missed it.” Finally, it was my turn—my time to shine.

After watching Henry dominate the court, it made me stop and think, “Now, what am I going to actually do?!” I decided to try something risky (or maybe even stupid), but I was going to try an old school with a signature basketball move that Michael Jordan once did. I’m not talking about a slam dunk because that would be too obvious. Not to mention obviously, I can’t jump. But how about a 3-point shot from half-court? Now, that’s something that no one had ever seen. The 3-point line wasn’t even a rule in basketball yet. I took a deep breath and started to dribble towards the back court. I turned around at the center circle, and BAM, I took the shot. Everything went into slow-mode again. The ball was flying, and the jaws were dropping as it approached the rim—swoosh! The crowd went wild! ... Well, actually, the crowd went silent.

Henry stood there in shock and asked, “Who-who taught you that?”

“Michael Jordan,” I replied very proudly.

“Who’s that?” asked Henry. Oops! I messed up. I tried to recover by saying, “Michael Jor--. He...uh, you don’t know him. He was an old friend of mine back in California.”

“Did he ever play on a basketball team? Because he sounds amazing,” Henry asked.

“Yep, he sure is — he’s the greatest.”

Henry seemed to buy what I said, and so did everyone else who listened, so I guess using “the new kid logic” still worked, ha! Henry, who was still in shock, said to me, “We gotta talk about the shot you made later.” But before we got back to our game, Mr. Jones blew his whistle and said, “Alright, everyone, form a line and tell me how many wins and losses your team has.”

Henry and I got in line and were trying to remember our score. I said to him, “I think we beat five teams today.”

Henry responded, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Then before Mr. Jones let us go, he said, “We’ll continue playing on Monday, so remember who your opponents are.”

We all headed towards the locker rooms. As I was walking to my locker, I just knew this wouldn’t be over between Henry and me. Something bad was going to happen soon — I could feel it.