Chapter Text
The early morning sun shines through the upper gymnasium windows and down onto the glossy floors.
It’s almost blinding to look at from where Funneh sits on the bleachers, to the side and out of the glare. Her classmates ran around in chaos before her, almost dancing in the light as they shed the ‘maturity’ they were all so sure they gained now that they were eighth graders—last year of middle school, one step closer to highschool.
Funneh was normally among them, playing like they were all fourth graders again because she was content to stay just as she was, even if she itched for high school the same as they all did, but today she was just fine to sit and snack on her chips she’d bought from the bending machine just outside the gym doors.
Earlier in the year, the school had begun to allow recess in the mornings before class. They claimed it as a tactic to keep kids active, but the real reason, the one her dad had told her about at least, was to tire them all out so they would be less likely to disrupt class.
That was probably why all of the middle school teachers, from 6th to 8th, had no issue rounding up their classes each morning and going to the gym.
“Funneh!” The voice of her best friend cuts through the chaos of the gym.
It’s not hard to find Gold in the crowd. She was maybe one of the only middle school girls who dressed up everyday and didn’t have chunky mascara clumsily applied on her lashes. Today she’s wearing a dressy yellow shirt and cuffed blue jeans, with her perfectly white sneakers almost glowing.
“What?” Funneh calls back, popping another chip in her mouth.
“We need one more player, you’re on my team!”
It’s then that Funneh notices the volleyball in Gold’s hands. No further convincing is needed, even if she was fully planning on being lazy today, as she springs up from the bleachers. The chip bag sits forgotten in her place.
The next was already set up in the middle of the gym, dividing the space in two. The coaches no longer bothered taking it down since they’d just have to hitch it back up the very next day.
There was a huddle of kids on each side, five boys on the left and three girls on the right.
As Funneh follows Gold to the girls’ side to make it five, she catches Kyran in the corner of her eye. He’s standing awkwardly on the left side of the net, looking completely out of his comfort zone.
She didn’t know a lot about Kyran, didn’t talk to him much either. They shared a homeroom teacher so they were always in the same classes, but aside from being seated together every now and again, that was about as far as it went. His eyes flicker up and his face almost brightens. He’s not looking at Funneh, but just past her.
Funneh turns her head to see Gold prepping her first serve.
She’s moved towards the back as Funneh settles into position at the front. She stares straight ahead, waiting.
The satisfying slap of palm against the ball echoes throughout the gym. Funneh feels a shiver run through her.
The ball rockets over the net, heading straight for poor, little Kyran.
He stares up at it with wide blue eyes as it hurdles closer. It’s like he’s frozen in fear, joints locked and feet glued to the floor. What happened to fight or flight?
The ball is just a hair away when he finally ducks, tripping over his own feet for safety.
Groans come from the left side of the court as the girls sound a cheer for Gold’s spike—even Funneh could admit her best friend had a naturally stronger arm than she could ever train for.
Funneh led in the cheers–she’d watched enough volleyball games with her dad to know that any good serve called for celebration, especially the very first one. It was basic volleyball etiquette, like calling “Mine!” or shaking hands after a game even if you don’t win.
Not that this was anywhere near a serious or even real game like the pros play. This was fun competition for middle schoolers. They play boy vs. girls because they never seem to grow out of that rivalry, or the bragging rights they win until the next time they play.
Even so, Funneh likes playing pretend, likes imagining a crowd cheering her name, rooting for her number.
She doesn’t get swept up in the daydream like normal, she instead looks over to see Kyran still on the floor, looking ready to cry.
His teammates have continued their groaning and, just as Funneh goes to tell them to cut it out, two boys leave their positions toward Kyran.
The first boy is Draco. Next to Kyran, he was one of the smartest kids in their class. But Funneh knows him better for going around the cafeteria at lunch to ask for stuff off of people’s trays, like their fries or rolls or even a full pizza slice.
Draco pulls Kyran up and onto his feet, patting his shoulder in what looks like a soothing, ‘forget about them’ movement.
The second boy is someone Funneh doesn’t know the name of or really anything about. She knows he’s quiet, he doesn’t speak much in class, and doesn’t get called on like even the teachers don’t know his name. Oh, and that he meets Kyran everyday after school in the parking lot to walk home together.
The boy takes charge in grabbing the ball and tossing it back over the net to Gold. He passes Kyran on the way to the front and nods.
Then he settles right in front of Funneh.
For a moment, she can’t help but stare. Cherry red hair with matching eyes. A strong nose and high cheekbones. She’s seen him before, sure, but never this close up.
How many times had she wondered what his name was? How many times did she stop herself from flat out asking Kyran for it?
Too many, way too many.
After this, she’ll ask. They had another group project coming up, Gold was bound to invite him into their group like always.
She’ll ask then, inconspicuously. Cooly, no suspicions to be had. Funneh was just curious, like always.
When Kyran doesn’t look ready to crumple back down to the floor, Draco goes back to his spot. The game resumes as if nothing stopped it and Gold rockets the ball over the net once more.
This time, the cherry haired boy sets it up to allow for Draco to spike it over.
Funneh springs into a dive to save it from touching the ground, bumping it up with the underside of her wrist as a girl comes up to help it over.
The ball goes back and forth between the two sides— the cherry haired boy and Draco continuing with their one and two method, Funneh diving for the ball, and even Kyran begins going for it.
Draco occasionally makes very… strange noises. No one knows whether or not it’s to throw off the other side or just because he can.
Funneh loves the game going like this, back to back hits and watching both sides call for the ball more, going out of their way to save it at the last minute.
It felt like the professional games her dad watched. Both sides were competitive to win, to gloat about it until the next game. No one stood without a clue or was left out, each one of them at least once hit or dived for the ball.
A few times, the other side forgets to call out for the ball and slam into each other, before they pop right back up and continue like nothing. It's messy and clumsy and not perfect in the slightest, but it's fun.
“Mine!” Funneh screeches, at one point, and dives for the ball once more. When no one runs up, she quickly adds, “Help!”
“Got it!” Gold comes to her aid getting the ball over the net, before helping Funneh back up.
The two grin at each other— Funneh’s hair falling out of her quickly done ponytail while Gold’s heat set curls begin to slightly lose their shape. She doesn’t seem to mind that her hair is less than perfect in the slightest.
Warmth spread through Funneh’s chest, some kind of feeling overtaking her. It felt like pure happiness spreading throughout her body, and Funneh felt like a shooting star, like a spark.
The ball spirals over the net, barreling towards Kyran once more, only this time he doesn’t dodge out of the way.
He catches it.
This time even Draco groans along with his team, slicking his sweaty hair back. Funneh knows he’s worked up an appetite by now, and he’ll be begging for her slice of pizza at lunch.
With everyone so caught up in Kyran, Funneh takes the chance to catch her breath. Her knees sting from sliding against the glossy floor without her kneepads and her inner forearms are throbbing and red.
Funneh relishes in the feeling.
Out of the corner of her eye she spots the scoreboard (halfway through, a peppy girl with pink hair and a cake hat had begun to keep score). The girls were ahead by two, Funneh’s delighted to find.
Kyran tries throwing the ball over to the cherry haired boy, who by now had tossed his jacket to the side, only to get it bounced back into his arms.
Kyran almost looks green as he says, “You serve it!”
“You do it,” The cherry haired boy says in a monotone voice.
“I don’t know how to!”
Draco barks out a laugh, “Just throw it up and slap it! And I mean the ball, not your breakfast.”
“You got this Kyran!” Funneh calls out with two thunbs up of encouragement.
“Yeah, go Kyran!” Gold chimes in after, and Funneh catches the green of his face as it fades to red. Huh.
Kyran looks at the ball, held tightly in his hands, before stiffly copying the moves to serve. His stance is awkward as he throws the ball up and slaps it.
Surprisingly, it makes it over the net.
Both sides cheer as one of the girls bumps it back.
And then, Draco runs up for the ball, and lets out one of the strangest noises he has since the game started. One that in all their weeks of playing, Funneh has never heard, and it admittedly throws her off.
Something along the lines of ‘WABALULULULULULU’.
It is so strange it pulls her out of the game, something that is very rarely done when Funneh starts playing volleyball.
Not even her mother could pull her out of game mode like this, she would normally have to screech for Funneh to come in for dinner whenever her and Gold played in Funneh’s backyard.
Funneh stands, bones stiff as she just stares at Draco, furrowed brows and an agape mouth. Because how can that noise, that high pitched noise come out of a preteen bo-
“Duck!!” Gold shrieks, ear piercing enough that it snaps Funneh out of her daze. She twists to see just who is being told to duck, while another voice yells to hit the ball, hit the ball, hit the ball, hit the-
And it’s too late as Funneh twists back around and looks up to the ball coming straight for her. Too late for her to cower away like Kyran, or protect her face, or hit it-
It all goes in slow motion despite how fast it happens.
One, Gold comes running from her spot in the back.
Two, Kyran shouts her name in a desperate, worried cry.
Three-
Something else, bigger than the ball, tackles her to the floor.
Her small frame, because despite training for the pros, she in fact was still a middle school girl, is easily slammed into the gym floor. Her head doesn't make contact with the glossy floors though, instead landing on something softer.
But it doesn’t stop the pain that shoots up from her spine, or the weight suddenly on top of her that knocks the breath from her lungs. Her eyes close on impact, but no ball hits her.
(Though, a part of her would rather the ball than the weight of whatever was on top of her. At least then she would’ve just had a headache and not the literal wind knocked out of her—)
A second passes, and the weight disappears.
Funneh sucks in a breath, and it burns. Her body remains unresponsive, until her eyes peak open. She catches a glimpse of red, cherry red. And then she sees Gold, face twisted in concern.
“Ohmygosh, Funneh! Are you okay? Did you hurt something? Can you move? How many fingers am I holding up?” Gold shoots out question after question, shoving two fingers in Funneh’s line of sight.
Funneh squints at the blurry digits, groaning out, “Two.”
Gold leans back, breathing a sign of relief, and it allows Funneh to see the glimpse of red again. Now she recognizes it as the cherry haired boy that was playing, that walks home with Kyran, that normally never plays, that was the weight on top of her that saved her from a volleyball to the face.
He nods at her, face still blank except for the raise of one eyebrow. “You good?”
Funneh nods, which is rather hard to do laying down. She groans as she tries to sit back up. Gold almost shoves her back down in a panic, but pauses as a hand is offered to Funneh from the cherry haired boy.
Funneh feels Gold’s eyes on her as she reaches her hand to grip his, feeling the callouses on the palm of his hand, as she’s slowly yet steadily pulled up.
She’s dizzy when she first stands, knees almost buckling, and Funneh would hate to know how it would feel if her head actually made contact with the gym floor.
She grips onto the cherry haired boy to balance, and he stiffens, not expecting any more contact than the hand he offered. But Funneh feels like she’ll fall if she isn’t holding onto something, even if it’s the arm of a stranger.
It’s then that a teacher comes rushing over, checking Funneh for any signs of a concussion. Thanks to the hand cradling her head when she was tackled brutally, she knows she doesn’t.
Her spine still aches and she nearly loses balance once again when she’s taken away from her support, aka the boy with the cherry red hair.
Funneh’s insistence that she’s fine doesn’t stop the teacher from trying to drag her away from the net and the group of kids that gathered around, demanding they call her parents to go to the doctors and have her checked out just in case.
“No,” Funneh whines almost pathetically. “I wanna keep playing.”
Normally, Funneh was happy to leave school early and miss math with Mr. Chambers. But not now, there was a game and a score and-
The teacher would hear nothing of it, continuing to try and lead Funneh away carefully. But Funneh continues to try to go back.
“It’s probably best to go home,” The monotone voice spoke again, and Funneh made eye contact with him.
And for some reason that makes Funneh stop struggling against the teacher and begin to follow. The cherry hair boy turns to begin to walk away too.
Funneh stops one more time, ignoring the adult, and opens her mouth.
“My name is Funneh.”
There was no reason to introduce herself, he was just saving her from a ball to the head. They wouldn’t talk after this, no friendship would bloom from an incident like this.
Funneh would call home and only see the cherry haired boy when he walked home with Kyran.
But he turns around and lets out the tiniest smile. “I’m Alec.”
Alec, Funneh thinks as she leaves the gym, until the next game, Alec.