Unfinished Work #26

-Hey, hey guys. Come look.
Brother turned his wan attention to the calling of his classmate, and in doing so, unmindfullly bounced the basketball which he had been dribbling off the side of his shoe. It rolled along in the opposite direction of the gathering children, gritting the blacktop in measured bounds, until coming to rest several yards away with a splash of sandy playground gravel. Across a short weed choked field, the boy who had been calling squatted down above an open drainage grate. With his finely featured face crumpled under much discernment, the boy squinted into the shadowed depths and began carefully to draw his sleeves up about the elbow. Brother watched, in the passive autumn air, as still more children shepherded themselves towards the grate; their sluggish unmastered footfalls drumming softly upon the mudded field, and flatly slapping the newly wetted concrete. Very soon, a good number had gathered near the crouching boy, and as they huddled about, a small rise of commotion crescendoed briefly from them like a gust of wind, until gradually all of their questions had been answered and the gaggle fell silent.
Curious as to their interest with the drain, Brother took a few waif steps in their direction, shuffling his feet as he considered an approach. But, as the children stood, tightly knitted in a patchwork semicircle, their backs walled towards him, he suddenly found the idea of placing himself amongst them to be quite uninviting; and so he stopped. For a moment he stood solitary on the flat expanse of the basketball court, watching his long emaciated shadow grow weaker and then become more defined in the slanting sunlight of the late afternoon. The wavering light gave his shadow the appearance of movement, but, as he himself did not move, Brother knew it to be a trick upon his eyes. Again he heard the rustling of conversation from the direction of the gathered children, but ignoring it he continued on with this taffied abstraction of himself. Before long, its once tight boundaries blurred, and his fading shadow spread out across the white lines of the court and was gone.
Aware of himself again, Brother heard the rush of straggling dinner hour traffic at his back, and felt a sudden folding in his stomach. He was hungry. Shifting his attention once more, Brother turned around in the direction that his ball had rolled to find the eyes of two young girls upon him, who hovered somewhat disinterestedly over the spot where it had landed. Upon facing them, the taller of the two let her eyesight fall beyond him, while the other girl met Brother with a look of cool unflinching self-possession. For a time, he dared not to blink, and she too kept on with casual poise. Her long stare drew upon something wild within Brother; it made him uncomfortable.
- Give me my ball. he called suddenly and without consideration; surprising himself.
- This? the small girl narrowed her sable eyes as she delicately placed an uncommonly white loafer atop the basketball. With her knee raised, she trundled the sooted ball back and forth in the gravel and continued to study Brother.
- Yes, that. he halfway asserted. It’s mine.
- Well I don’t want your crummy old ball. and upon this she turned a glance towards the taller girl, who was still looking away into the distance. Maybe she might.
At this the larger of the two gave, with a glint of recognition from her faded green eyes, what could be considered either a sign of consent or perplexity; perhaps both. Brother watched while the girl, who was rather an ogress in stature, reached a long hand up to brush a shock of boyishly short blonde hair away from her brow. Considering, it seemed, the question, she pawed the shock of hair with twisting fingers and looked down intently upon her counterpart. Soon the smaller girl nodded, and the tall girl looked away once more.
Unsure what to make of this exchange, Brother waited for the small girl to speak. When she did not reply, choosing instead to quietly smooth out the pleats of her immaculate white dress, his impatience mounted.
- Look. Will you just roll my ball over here?
- No. she flatly said at once, pitching her head side to side in a whirl of black hair.
- Well, why not? Brother soured his tone and felt a hot welling inside. Annoyance put motion to
his feet, and as he began to approach the girl, his small chest set heavily before him, Brother saw a thin smile turn across her round face.
- No. she paused. Because sister Taylor here might want it. You see, she’s just not sure yet.
- I don’t care. Brother huffed, observing the tall girl’s stillness. From where he now stood, he knew her measure to be slighting of his own. It’s mine and I’ll have it now.
The small girl suppressed briefly her grin, and began chewing on her underlip, as she weighed Brother once more with dark eyes.
- I like you. she spun, ceasing her grating motion of the basketball and lifting her foot slightly from its drab face. Her loafer floated above the ball with spurious frailty as she spoke. Sister does too.

(etc)