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The provincial finals, in an act of ultimate cruelty, took place the weekend before exams that year. Following our dominating victory at the Vancouver citywide tournament, Kimmit had given us a very short break; one week during which we only had practices every other day. I'd used the time to catch up on my homework and my sleep schedule, and I was thankful for it. Once that week was up, we went right back into it, just as hard as we ever had. He even started bringing in footage for us to watch from other teams we would be facing.

On top of all of this, I kept up my training regiment with Catherine and Garet. My practices with Catherine were getting more and more aggressive. I was almost as tall as Catherine at this point, and we were both aware of how much tension that added to our games. Whereas before I'd had to rely solely on outthinking her and preventing any jump shots before they happened, now I actually stood a chance at blocking her instead of just stealing. This was forcing Catherine to get more creative, and more and more of these strategies involved using her impressive strength and muscle control to push past me in the midst of her blindingly fast movements.

Of course, she wasn't exactly having an easy time overpowering me. Garet and I were relentless in our workouts, and we pushed each other hard. By the end of our workouts each Saturday and Sunday night, both of us would be panting and drenched in sweat, our limbs feeling like jelly.

Each night, I would go home and pray that the increasingly frequent muscle cramps I was getting would give me a night off. I had grown a lot in the past year; a lot. In many ways, the extra money that was coming in from the DeMilles was lucky. I'd had to buy new clothes on a few occasions as I grew. Once when we were at the Salvation Army, my mother joked that it was karma. We'd gotten so many years off from having to buy me new things, and now it was all coming in at once.

As the provincial tournament drew closer, I started feeling that odd cocktail of excitement and nerves that had been missing during the last tournament. Yes, we'd cleared house at the citywide tournament. The applause when we'd won the last game had been halfhearted at best. Everybody had seen it coming going into the tournament, so there was no excitement.

This was different, though. For the provincial tournament, we wouldn't just be facing other highschools' teams. Most other cities would have had their own tournaments to determine the best school team, but afterwards they would pick and choose the best players from other schools to add to the winning team. We were going to be going up against the best basketball players in our age group in the province, and we were all relishing and dreading the opportunity. Catherine, Garet and I never acknowledged it out loud, but we all knew that we were getting nervous.

That was, at least, until the weekend before the tournament. When I arrived at Catherine's house on Saturday morning, there was something different about her. I couldn't place it at first as we did our warmups. Even as we got into drills and our small one-on-one scrimmages, it wasn't totally apparent. It seemed like she had more energy than usual, and her movements were definitely faster and a bit bigger. At the same time, though, when she pushed at me or tried for steals or blocks, I didn't feel the normal roughness.

We practiced throughout the entire day, both of us working ourselves until we were exhausted. When we were called to dinner, the two of us had to walk very slowly down the hallway to the dining room.

Catherine's parents were home that weekend, and so the two of them were waiting for us when we arrived. Mrs DeMille took one look at us, drenched with sweat and panting for breath, and burst out laughing. I just stared at her in confusion, and Catherine must have done the same, because she waved a hand at us.

"Sorry, sorry. The two of you just look so..." She searched for a word, trying (poorly) to conceal a grin.

"Bedraggled, ma'am?" Lawrence offered. The wolf was carrying in a pair of glasses of ice water, which he set out at mine and Catherine's places.

"Yes, exactly that! Thank you, Lawrence." She laughed a bit to herself, and turned back to the meal.

"Well I can see that the two of you are working hard to prepare." This was Mr DeMille. The enormous cockatoo was leaning back in his chair, a grin playing at his beak. Catherine and I took our seats, and Lawrence began plating our food. "What do you think your odds are for next weekend, Hiro?"

I was gulping half of the glass of icewater down when he asked. I put the glass down hurriedly, and wiped my beak on the back of my arm self-consciously. "I don't know, Mr DeMille. Coach Kimmit seems to think we have a lot of competition."

"Please, Hiro, it's just James." The big cockatoo laughed, and gave his head a shake. "Will I ever convince you to stop calling me 'Mr DeMille?' It makes me feel old."

I tried to make myself smile as I replied. "I don't know, Mr DeMille." I still felt awkward about everything that had happened the year before, and about my entire arrangement with the DeMilles. It was bizarre how Mr and Mrs DeMille tried to act as though none of it had ever happened.

"Well, do you at least feel confident? If you don't feel confident, then you've already lost."

"I'm confident that our team is ready, and that we'll all perform our best."

"Good man." Mr DeMille's smile widened. "I'm looking forward to watching Catherine in the finals."

I blinked at that. Catherine's parents had had precious few weekends at home lately. Mr DeMille kept getting pulled away to meetings in Alberta, and often in the southern States as well. "You'll be coming, then?"

"Of course! I managed to reschedule my Sunday meeting." The big cockatoo glanced over towards Catherine, and said, "Family always comes first. Isn't that right?"

Catherine just shot him a small grin back. Things lapsed into the silence of a good meal after that, but I kept glancing back over at Catherine as I ate.

So, that was it. That was why she was in such a good mood. Catherine, the cold, calculating, insufferable cockatoo that never had time for nonsense, was excited about her parents coming to watch her play. As I watched her, she glanced up. When she noticed me looking at her, she shot me a small glare. I just grinned at her over the table, and she rolled her eyes.

I returned my attention to my meal, thinking. My dad would be coming down for this weekend, too. It was odd to think that the upcoming tournament meant the same thing to Catherine and I, but... Alright. I didn't like her, but I could at least understand that. If those were the stakes that the two of us were playing for next weekend, then I knew the other teams didn't stand a chance.

When I got to the YMCA after dinner that night, I was in a good mood. Catherine's spirits, as difficult as they were to discern, had given me new energy. Garet met me at the door, per usual, and we headed in. Our talk was light; mostly we just discussed the upcoming tournament, and how excited we were for it.

Most of the talk ended once we actually started working out. There were a few joking comments whenever we were spotting each other. At one point, Garet half-laughingly said, "Come on, if you can't get ten reps, you have to do my laundry after the tournament."

Things kept up at that pace for most of our first hour. With my massive growth spurt, Garet didn't tower over me quite as much anymore. That said, he still easily outdid me in bulk. While I was still in the middle of growing taller, Garet had remained more or less the same height over the past year or so. As such, most of the weight he was putting on was going to his muscles. When I met Garet, he'd had some good muscle mass to him, but he'd still been quite gangly due to his height. Now, though, he was growing into his size.

So even though I'd drastically improved since we'd started training together, the crocodile easily outpaced me. Along with being able to lift greater weights, he tended to last longer than I did, too. That night was no exception. I stopped for our break a bit before he did, and just sat on the bench, catching my breath. I knew that he would shortly go off to 'fetch water,' and I would just sit there feeling uncomfortable like I always did. It didn't make me happy, but it was routine, and I'd grown used to it.

So I was a bit surprised when I finally looked up, and noticed somebody watching us from across the weight room. This on its own wasn't too odd; it wasn't unusual for people's eyes to wander during long workouts. What put me off about this person was his age; he was a short coyote, and looked to be about as old as me. There normally weren't too many people our age when we worked out; Saturday and Sunday nights weren't too popular for highschool students.

As I kept watching him, a few more things set me off. He was standing near the door to the weight room, but he didn't look like he was dressed for a workout. The coyote wore street clothes; a nice pair of jeans and a tank top that clearly wasn't meant for the gym. And... did he look familiar?

Garet noticed me staring, and he followed my gaze. As soon as the crocodile looked over, the coyote's face lit up, and he started walking over. Garet grunted out, "Oh for fuck's sake..." and set down his weights with a sigh.

"Hey Garet," the coyote said, his voice bright and pleasant.

"What are you doing here?"

"Me and a couple of the other guys are out, and we realized we were, uh..." The coyote shot me a look that screamed guilt, then said, "We're a bit short."

"So?"

"So I remembered you saying that you work out here on the weekends, and I thought that you might have some--"

The coyote's words died in his throat as Garet's annoyed expression turned into a warning glare. There was a long moment of very uncomfortable silence, and then the crocodile growled out, "Come on."

He stalked off. The coyote shot me an embarrassed, apologetic look, and then turned to follow Garet out of the weight room.

I didn't say anything during the entire exchange. I was too busy trying to figure out where I knew that coyote from. He definitely wasn't one of the group from the basketball court, so where did I...

My thoughts ground to a halt, and my head jerked up to stare at the door the two of them had left through. I knew where I'd seen the coyote. He'd been in my English class the previous semester. But that meant...

Garet returned not too long later, a foul look on his face and a bottle of water in his hand. As he approached, he muttered, "Sorry about that. Here." He tossed me the bottle.

I caught it, and though my throat was parched, I ignored the bottle. Instead, I just glared up at him from where I was sitting. "Are you dealing at school?"

The angry look on Garet's face turned almost immediately into one of shock. He just stared at me for a second that felt like an eternity, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. All at once, he started speaking. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

I stood up from the bench, and stepped in closer to him. Despite him being probably twice my weight, he took half a step back. When I spoke, my voice was a furious whisper. "I'm talking about you selling drugs. Are you doing it at school?"

"You knew!?"

"Of course I fucking knew!" It was taking a lot of self control to not yell, but I knew that this was a conversation that had to stay quiet. "I mean, everybody bloody said that you were doing it, but I never believed them until I saw it."

"You saw!?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl now. "How long have y- why didn't you say anything!?"

"That doesn't matter. Are you selling at school!?"

Garet kept glaring at me, but I didn't back down. I'd drawn myself up to my full height, and had my eyes narrowed on him around my beak. We stood there like that for a few long moments, the sound of creaking weight machines continuing on around us.

At last, the crocodile spoke. "Yeah. I'm selling from school. Out of my locker between classes."

Just like that. He admitted it so casually. His voice wasn't even defensive. I just stared at him, unable to respond at first. My beak clacked as I searched for words. Finally, I just settled on, "What the hell, man?"

"Hey, I didn't judge you for doing what you had to do to get by." Just barely, I thought, but I didn't voice it. He kept speaking. "I have to get by somehow."

"But what if they catch you? I mean, what if they search lockers?"

"It's just weed, it's not like I'm dealing meth or anything." His voice, which had been mostly flat for a while, was taking on more of an edge again. "What do you care?"

It took me a few moments before I could think of something to say. At length I just shook my head and muttered, "Just don't get caught, man."

"Why?"

"Because you're the closest thing to a friend I've got left."

I'm not sure whether he or I was more surprised when I said that. I know that it definitely set him back on his heels, though. I turned away from him, then headed back to the bench. I didn't look at him as I took a few sips of water. When I set the bottle back down, I took a second to catch my breath before I asked, "Squats next?"

"Yeah." His voice was quiet. Without another word, the two of us headed over to the squat rack. The rest of the workout crawled by. Neither of us was in the mood to talk.

I twisted in midstride and caught the pass from our point guard. I kept running, dribbling as I brought the ball in closer to the key. I watched and listened as both teams moved around me, the players trying to open and close passing lanes and paths to the net. The other team's shooting guard came in, her eyes narrowed on me. Her chest was heaving, her jersey soaked with sweat. I met her gaze, and I knew exactly what she was thinking, exactly what was playing at the back of her mind as she lunged for me. I could see the net out of the corner of my eye, and knew I had a clear shot.

Instead I turned with the lunge and passed the ball towards Garet. The big crocodile was easy to pick out on the court. He caught my pass, and then moved into the key. The other team's center was waiting for him, though, and the two stood there for a breath, each waiting for the other to act.

I saw a streak of black coming in from behind Garet. Catherine must have given him some sort of signal, because quite suddenly he passed back to her. He kept the other center distracted while she dodged around both of them, and then sank her bucket.

A cheer rose up from the stands as we started backing up towards our end of the court. I risked a glance over at the scoreboard. We were ten points ahead with just under two minutes left. We had this game won, just so long as we kept our cool. The other team was getting desperate, and that was good. So long as we maintained careful control of ourselves, we could use their desperation to our advantage. It was just a matter of keeping that control. That was the big difference moving from the preliminaries the day before to the elimination rounds. The added pressure of knowing that each game was life-or-death would force people to play desperately. People that played desperately made mistakes.

I shot a look over to Garet as we backed up, and he nodded to me. He understood. We'd talked about this before. I'd already had to share a quick word with him earlier in the game about keeping his cool, but since then he'd been fine.

I turned to look at Catherine, too, more as a formality than anything. I didn't have to worry about her keeping cool. When I looked at her, though, her eyes were on the stands. She was scanning them, her sharp eyes sweeping over the assembled crowd.

After a few moments, I called over. "Catherine."

She started, then glanced over to me. I just gestured down the court with my head, and she shot me a small glare. She nodded, though, and returned her attention to the game.

The rest of that particular game passed quickly. The other team's next possession was a short one, ending when our point guard managed to steal the ball away. We scored off of that, and that seemed to be enough break most of the other team. They finished out the clock, but their hearts clearly weren't in it. We wound up taking a twelve point victory, carrying us through the first round of elimination play at the provincial championships.

We filed off the court to let the next pair of teams play, grinning excitedly to each other. I think I was finally getting used to playing on the university's court after my wonder the entire day before. We'd managed to go undefeated in the preliminary rounds, but there had been some close games for a change. There were one or two wins that we'd actually had to fight for, and it had been a wakeup call. We'd been expecting things to be more difficult at this tournament, but it felt odd pushing myself to my limits because I actually had to, rather than just for practice's sake. I'd been tired when I'd gone home; so tired that I went to bed right after dinner instead of staying up to spend time with my dad.

That morning, I'd been stiff and achy in ways I hadn't felt since I'd first started my crazy workout and training schedule with Catherine and Garet. My dad had given me advice on how to limber up for the day during breakfast, and that was when we'd actually spoken about the games the day before. This time, he actually was impressed, and he showed it. He had more feedback for me, too. Watching me actually struggle and working hard had given him more to work with.

So there was much more tension going into the games today. As the top seeded team, we got to play first that morning. At first we'd all grumbled about it, but now that it was over we were happy. The aches and pains from the day before were gone, and I knew that I was nowhere near as nervous now. I actually felt relaxed as Kimmit gave us our post-game debriefing. Once he was done, he dismissed us, telling us when we needed to be back for our next game.

I took a few moments to towel off my slightly sweat-matted feathers, and then Garet and I headed back to the stands to sit with my family. Most of the rest of the morning was relaxed. We all watched the games, trading small comments. Garet and I were always watching our opponents, trying to mentally prepare ourselves for the possibility of facing them in future games. Beyond that, though, we were perfectly calm. There was nothing that could shake us.

Eventually, the time came for Garet and I to go and meet up with the rest of our team before the next round of games. We would be facing a team from Prince George next. We knew they had a couple very strong players on their team, but they didn't really have the bench to back them up. We'd already discussed potential strategies if we went up against them, but Kimmit would be going over them again just before we went out.

When our team was gathered, Kimmit opened his mouth to speak. He hesitated, though, and then his face creased with annoyance. "Again. Where's DeMille."

I blinked, and I heard a few people groan. I distinctly heard Garet growl out, "Oh you have to be kidding me."

Everybody glanced around, and I let my gaze wander up to the stands to see if she was there. I couldn't pick out her tall crest of feathers or red cheekmarks anywhere, though. I rolled my eyes, and then looked back to Kimmit. "Coach?"

He nodded without further explanation. "Go. If you can't find her in five minutes, then get back here. Run."

I turned and ran out into the hallway. I kept running for a bit, trying to think of places that Catherine might have gone. As I went deeper into the university, though, I slowed myself down to a quick walk. It just felt strange and wrong running in a school, even if it was a university.

I rushed through the hallways, unsure what to do. I was just starting to panic when I heard a voice coming from around a corner up ahead. I froze in place as I recognized it as Catherine's.

"Good morning, Laurence. I've been trying to get a hold of my parents for the past couple hours, but they don't seem to be near their phones."

There was a long pause. I stood stock still, trying not to breathe too heavily. Around the corner, I could hear Catherine's steady footsteps on the floor, and I knew that she was pacing.

"Yes, I know that they're very busy people, Laurence. Do you know where they are right now? I don't have much time, and I need to get in touch with them."

She kept pacing for a moment, and then abruptly stopped. Everything was quiet in the hallway, and I swear I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

"I see." Her voice was even. Controlled. "No, I don't need you to pass along any messages. No. That will be all, Laurence."

I didn't have to see to know that she'd hung up. Everything was quiet for a very long few seconds. I didn't hear her moving at all.

After what felt like an eternity, I swallowed. Then, very, very carefully, I sidled down the hallway, further away from her. I winced at the tiniest amount of noise each time I put my foot down. Once I felt I'd moved far enough away to prevent suspicion, I turned and started walking back down the hallway towards her. I made sure that my footsteps were loud enough to hear.

I rounded the corner, and there she was. She turned toward me as soon as I stepped into view, and her face was as cold as I'd ever seen it. She still had her phone out; even from where I was standing, I could see how tightly she was clutching it.

For half a second, I panicked as she looked me over. Then, I forced myself to speak. "Hey, the game's going to start soon. Come on."

Catherine nodded, and followed me without a word. I walked quickly, never turning to look back at her. I could hear her heavy footsteps following along behind me all the way.

We stepped out onto the court, and Kimmit waved us over to where the rest of our team was waiting. He shot me a questioning look, and I just gave a small, quick shake of my head. I'm eternally grateful that he didn't try to push me for more information. He just gave us our normal rundown before a game, and reminded us again to play careful and controlled.

So we went out onto the court, and waited for the ref to tip us off and start the quarter finals. She stepped up, and the quiet of many held breaths descended on the stands.

The ball went up.

Garet was on it in a heartbeat, and the ball went back to our point guard. The rest of us moved forward into the other team's end of the court. I didn't have time to think about Catherine as we moved into our positions. I kept close to our point guard, waiting for the defence to make their move before I chose what to do.

Both of the other team's guards came towards us. I dodged out to the side, moving quickly to get clear of them. One came after me, but I'd already opened up enough room for our point guard to pass easily to me. I brought the ball further into the other team's end of the court, keeping just ahead of the guard that was chasing me. All the while, I kept my eyes focused on the rest of our team. I picked out Catherine, seeing that she was hanging back a bit with a mostly clear path to the net. I turned sharply and passed to her.

She reached forward and plucked the ball out of the air, and then... she hesitated. It was just a heartbeat, not enough for most people to notice. I'd been playing with her almost daily for over a year now, though. I knew how fast she should have reacted to that pass, and it was faster than that. She started moving, and our opponents' power forward stepped out in front of her. He had a small height advantage over her, but I knew that she was fast enough to breeze by him. I knew that she was. It was just that, well... she didn't.

She moved to step around him, and though fast, her steps were sloppy. He blocked her path, and even from where I stood, I saw her surprise. She hesitated for another long breath, and by then more defenders were closing on her. She panicked, she jumped, and she shot.

The power forward jumped with her, and his hand swung up and around. It smacked the ball out of the air, and sent it bouncing free. One of their guards scooped up the ball, and everybody started rushing to our end of the court.

As we moved, I knew that everybody on my team was shaken. Even during the intense games the day before, nobody had ever seen Catherine so completely and efficiently shut down. Watching one of their players outplay her like that on the first possession was not a good start to the game. I shot a look over at her, but the palm cockatoo was just glaring forward, her eyes narrowed.

I forced myself to take a few deep breaths as I closed with the guard in possession of the ball. Keep calm, Hiro. Just keep calm.

The problem, though, was that things didn't improve as the game went on. Our next possession went more smoothly, but that was mostly because I managed to get an opening on the net without Catherine having to touch the ball. From there on out, things just went downhill. Catherine was playing off. She was lacking the aggressive speed and precise footwork that normally let her tear through an opposing team's defence. On top of that, she seemed oblivious to anybody else on the team whenever she had the ball. It was like that first time I had played with her almost two years before: she'd completely forgotten that she could pass to her teammates.

It probably wouldn't have been such a dire situation if our team wasn't so used to relying on her. Garet and I were a strong duo, and the rest of our teammates had grown into a competent team on their own. The problem, though, was that everybody was used to passing to Catherine. Whenever we went onto the offence, it was reflex to take any opportunity to get the ball to her. As such, she kept winding up with the ball in her hands. Even when we started realizing that Catherine wasn't playing right and wasn't a sure bet, avoiding passing to her made it feel like we were playing with only four players. Things went a bit smoother whenever Catherine took a break and we had our bench small forward on the court, but that still resulted in a huge deficit of talent for us.

By the end of the second quarter, we were down fifteen points. We filed off the court quietly, and Kimmit was waiting for us by the bench. We didn't get a long break for halftime during the tournament; just a few minutes. The housecat gestured to us, and we gathered in a circle around him. He was quiet for a few long moments, and he just let his gaze wander over us one by one. At last, he spoke.

"You're all better than this. All of you. I haven't spent the past eight months coaching all of you for you to just fold and give up the moment you face a challenge. I don't have to give you any kind of new strategy or advice for you to turn this around; you're all good enough to beat this team, and it's as simple as that. So when you go back out there, work for it."

"Oh come on." It was Garet, predictably. He was glaring back at Kimmit, and while a few others looked annoyed, he was the only one meeting his gaze. "We're all working our asses off out there. Catherine's the only one that isn't pulling her weight."

Everything went deadly silent. It wasn't a secret that Catherine and Garet didn't get along. True, Catherine didn't get along with anybody, but it wasn't hard to see that she and Garet had a particularly strong dislike for each other. Still, the two of them normally managed to keep it to themselves. This was the first time either had confronted the other in front of the rest of the team. I looked over at Catherine, ready to jump in just in case she decided to take Garet's bait. She was just staring ahead, though, not paying much attention to anybody. If she'd heard Garet's jab, she didn't show it.

Kimmit, though, had certainly heard it. "Garet, how many points behind are we?"

The crocodile blinked. "Fifteen."

"Yes. Do you know how many of those points came off of second chance shots?"

Garet's confusion turned back into a glare as he realized what the cat was getting at. "Look, if you're expecting perfection--"

"I should instead demand it from another player?" The two of them kept up their staring contest for a few moments, and at last the cat said, "The next time you call out a teammate like that, you're sitting out the rest of the game. Is that understood?"

Garet still looked furious, but he just gave the cat a small nod. Kimmit looked satisfied with this, and returned his attention to the rest of the team. "Pull yourselves together, and make things work. This game isn't over yet."

With that we split up. Most people took a seat on the bench or went to fetch some water as we waited for the second half to start. Garet didn't sit down; he just stood around, pacing occasionally. I didn't watch him for long. Catherine stepped out into the hallway, claiming that she was going to use the washroom. I waited a few breaths, and then I turned and followed her out the doors.

I had to jog to catch up to her. I knew she could hear my footsteps behind her, but she never turned to look. Even when I called after her, she just kept walking.

"Catherine."

"Not right now, Hiro."

"No, we need to talk."

"Not much to say."

"I'm sorry your parents aren't here."

She stopped so suddenly that I almost ran into her back. All at once, she rounded on me. We may have been about the same height now, but when her crest rose and she drew herself up, I suddenly felt very small again. I saw her arm twitch up, and in that moment I knew that she wanted to hit me. I was too stunned by this realization to move.

She didn't follow through, though. She just stood, glaring at me, her right hand slightly raised and pulled back. At length, she muttered, "You think I actually care about that?"

I resisted the temptation to nod at her hand, which was still curled into a fist. Instead I just swallowed and said, "I know how you feel."

She snorted at that. "Please."

"I do."

"No, you don't." It sounded like she was holding back a laugh as she looked at me. She didn't give me a chance to reply. "See, the thing is that this isn't a surprise. I knew this was coming. It's no different than any other day."

I didn't say anything. She was still glaring, but I could tell that she'd already said more than she'd intended. At last, she lowered her fist. She kept her eyes locked on mine, though.

"This is the time when you say something to inspire me, isn't it?" She wasn't even trying to hold in her scorn. "You're the captain. Come on, lead."

It took me a very long, awkward few seconds before I could come up with a reply. I'd known her for close to two years now; I'd probably seen more of her than anybody else in my life over that time. I'd met her family, I'd seen her home, I had worked myself to exhaustion beside her more times than I could count. I wanted to find something to tell her that would make things alright, or that would show her that I understood how she felt. Finally, though, I just swallowed, then narrowed my eyes.

"Last time Garet hit you, you ran away." She blinked. I went on. "What he just said? That was him trying to hit you again. Don't run. Hit back."

She mulled that over, then she snorted. "Head back to the court. I need to use the washroom."

With that, she turned and kept heading towards the washroom. There wasn't much else I could do, so I went back to the court. Kimmit shot me a look when I walked in, and I nodded to him. We still had a minute or two until our game started, and I needed to catch my breath and clear my head. I took a seat on the bench and thought things over. I wasn't sure if I'd told Catherine the right thing. All I knew was that I wanted her to play at her best, and there was only one reliable way I knew to make her care about something. So, I'd tried to make her angry.

Catherine returned the court shortly before we had to head back out. Our starting line stepped out and got into position. I could feel the tension in my teammates all around me, particularly coming off of Catherine and Garet. The two of them kept dodging angry looks at each other, and their muscles were visibly tensing.

The third quarter started, and from that moment I didn't have time to think. Things moved fast. Very fast. Garet managed to shut down the other team's first attack, and then we went onto the offence. Our point guard, looking uncertain, passed over to Catherine, and then the palm cockatoo shot forward. She wasn't even close to the key when she started her charge, but that didn't stop her. She dodged past two defenders, leaving them staggering, and then she stepped into the key. She didn't bother going for a dunk; she just gave the ball a small toss up and into the net.

A few of our opponents stared at her as she stalked past them on her way back to our side. I gave a few nods to my teammates, just to make things clear: Catherine was back.

Even with Catherine back in game mode, things weren't exactly smooth. We were down by a significant margin. It wasn't enough for us to be scoring more; we also had to shut down more of their attacks. I tried to focus myself on that, disrupting as many plays as I could. Thanks to my height, I was in a good position to move around and square off against most of our opponents on the court. Garet handled the few that were too tall or muscular for me. The other team was good, though, and more often than not our efforts weren't enough.

Things weren't exactly smooth on the offence, either. Catherine was fully on the attack, but it wasn't with the same level of precision and cold detachment that she normally exhibited. She was being much more aggressive than usual, and that led to her making mistakes. It was certainly an improvement over her performance during the first half, but it was far from a perfect situation. She was so focused on the attack that she was still hardly passing to anyone. Regardless of how obstructed her path to the net was, she always tried to attack. Admittedly, it worked more often than it didn't; Catherine could still tear through the defence when she needed. It just made for slightly less consistency than usual.

So we slowly, torturously narrowed the lead. By the end of the third quarter, we were down by six. Our momentum was already slowing down before the break, though. When we came back, we tried to claw things back. All of us were already exhausted from the heavy playing in the third quarter, though, and more than a few of our teammates were showing the strain. I don't know how many times I told people to take deep breaths, to calm themselves down and focus during those last twelve minutes.

It wasn't enough, though. When the buzzer finally rang to mark the end of the game, we were still down by three. Everything came to a bizarre, surreal halt on the court. The Prince George team celebrated their victory, and I remember clapping for them along with everybody else. It all felt strange and disconnected, though. We'd lost. Just like that, it was done. The season was over.

I don't remember most of what happened after that. I guess that one memory, that feeling of having lost, kind of trumped everything else. I know Kimmit said something or other after the game. He was probably angry, or maybe he promised that we would be back the next year to win. That doesn't matter too much. I think my dad had something to say to me later in the evening, and I wish I could remember whatever that was.

None of that stood out, though. There was only one other memory I have from that night, and it was as I was stepping out of the men's change room. I'd been slow getting changed back into my street clothes. Everybody else had already left. As I stepped outside, though, I heard voices coming from down the hallway. I stopped, and only had to listen for a moment before I recognized the voices as Catherine's and Garet's.

I turned and walked quickly. As I got closer, I could hear how heated the voices were; they were both just shy of shouting. I came around a corner in the hallway, and the two were standing a few feet from each other, glaring.

"I got up and moved schools in the middle of the bloody year! And for what? To get eliminated in the quarter finals because somebody got nerves?"

"Oh please. Try and tell me it hasn't been worth your time."

"Excuse me?"

"Where would you be right now if I hadn't made my offer, hmm? Failing another set of classes, on your way to dropping out into a prestigious life of welfare?"

I tried to step between them. I was expecting him to hit her, and me to not be fast enough. Much to my surprise, though, he didn't move. I staggered to a halt just shy of them as he spoke.

"That the best you've got? Bet it just tears you the fuck up that you weren't good enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The two of them must have noticed me by then, but neither looked at me.

"You know exactly what I mean. You had to call in Hiro because you knew you weren't good enough on your own. Hell, even with Hiro you weren't good enough. You had to come crawling back and beg me for help." The crocodile let that hang in the air for a moment. Catherine's face was stone. "You can keep pretending that you're self-sufficient, or that you're God's gift to basketball. You wouldn't be a fucking thing without your daddy's money and mine and Hiro's talent."

Everything was quiet for what felt like a very long time after that. I think I was as stricken by Garet's words as Catherine was. If I was going to be involved in this fight between the two of them, I wanted it to be on my own terms, and preferably somewhere in the middle, as a buffer. Garet had just dragged me in as ammunition, though. The big crocodile was still glaring at Catherine, his muscles all tense. His arms were crossed, though, and I could feel satisfaction radiating off of him.

I almost flinched when Catherine finally moved. She stood up straight, and met the crocodile's gaze. "You're right." Garet and I both blinked, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. She went on, her voice smooth and level. "Let's cut to the heart of it. I need you and Hiro to win. That's why I've been paying you two this season. Hiro's dad still needs treatment, though, and you aren't graduating this year. So you take a victory lap, and I keep getting you tutoring help so you can graduate next year. The two of you play on the team next year, and we win." Garet and I were silent, both too stunned to reply. At length, she raised an eyebrow, then held out a hand to the crocodile. "What do you say?"

Garet looked down at her hand. I wasn't used to seeing the big crocodile off balance, but I could tell he didn't know how to respond. "How do I know you aren't going to blow it next year?"

Catherine's smile sent a cold shiver up my spine that made my feathers puff up. "You just worry about keeping up."

The crocodile took her hand. The two of them shook, awkwardly. When the two of them stepped away from each other, Garet glanced to me. "You coming?"

I looked back and forth between the two of them. It didn't feel right. It wasn't right. I knew Catherine better than that. She'd been furious at Garet during the game. She was humiliated, and she wasn't the type to just take that in stride. Something was off here, there was some sort of catch.

At length, though, I just gave a small nod. "Yeah. I have to go meet up with my parents."

Catherine finally looked over to me. She still had that unreadable, forced pleasant look on her face. "I suppose I'll see you next weekend at the normal time. We can talk about our schedule for the summer then."

"Right."

I turned and followed Garet down the hallway. I could feel Catherine's cold eyes on our backs the entire way.