Impact (Written for The Write Practice) Katrina swings the ball. Camille dumps it in to Alannah. She takes one dribble and goes up, and her girl claps her on the arm. The ball goes flying. The whistle blows. "Going up. Foul on two-two, black." We line up. Katrina takes her spot down low. Nell sets up across from her, while Alannah steps up to the line. The ref tosses her the ball. Two dribbles. Shot extension. Two more dribbles. She lifts the ball to her shoulder and bends her knees, then lifts. The ball arcs up and into the basket. The buzzer sounds, a quick jolt. Two players from Creek sub out. Bailie enters for Nell and takes my place up top. "Ward said go down low." Right, because Alannah's at the line. I line up in the empty slot between the rhino girl and the mouse. Alannah dribbles. I check the score— 15-12. Second quarter, 5 minutes left. Rhino's got most of that fifteen, but also three of her team's five fouls. Arm extension. Alannah bends her knees. We tense. She lifts. Rhino holds out an arm to cut me off. The ball carries in a soft arc—too soft. It hits off the top of the rim, and we burst forward to grab it. I leap to pull it down, but someone else has her hands on it. The rhino. She starts to yank, and I realize just how much stronger she is than me. I try to pull back. She's got a good grip; I hang on with my arms. I hear a grunt and grit my teeth. A whistle blows just as she gives one good yank. I know there's a thud, because I feel it in my right temple. Then I'm staring up at the ceiling. Not too far away, there's a collective gasp. My team. There's hard wood beneath me and a row of chairs next to me. I think I might have rolled over here, and that's why I'm so dizzy. My head doesn't feel too good either. I press a hand to my forehead and wince at the sensitivity. Ugh... I squeeze my eyes shut. "Julia. Julia, can you hear me?" "Yeah..." "Open your eyes for me, kid." I do. The gym ceiling slowly comes into focus. The lights are bright, like I've been woken up far too early. "Ow." "You're alright, you're alright. But you hit your head pretty good." "Yeah, I can feel it." Ward, crouched on my right, smiles a little. "I expect. Do you know what happened?" "Uh... I was trying to get the ball, and then I hit my head on the floor. And I guess I rolled over here." "That girl pretty much threw you across the court. Do you remember what happened before that?" "Alannah was shooting." "Good, good. Do you know your name?" "What? Julia. Julia Marino." "Where are we playing?" I laugh. "Creek. I feel like an idiot." He smiles again. "I'm just making sure you don't have a concussion." Concussion. Cole had one, I remember. A month ago, maybe. And Katrina had one last year. I know that because Alannah made a good joke about it. I can't bring it to mind now, but it was good. "Where does your head hurt?" "Here." I point. He puts his hand to it and I wince. "Not so hard." "Sorry. Do you feel okay?" "Yeah, my head just hurts a little. But I'm good." "You sure?" "Yeah. Really." "You good to go back in?" "I think so." "Alright, well, let's get you up." I push myself into a seated position. The gym swims before my eyes and I'm hit with a rising wave of dizziness. "Whoa whoa whoa." I squeeze my eyes shut. "Dizzy." Ward holds my shoulder. "Maybe I'll take you out and give you a rest." "No, I'm okay I justughhhhhh." Pain spikes through my right temple and I tense. "Yeah, we'll give you a break. You've been in for fifteen minutes already." I open my eyes to a squint and grab his outstretched hand. He pulls me up. He leads me over to our bench to polite applause. Then I sit. A water bottle appears in my hand. I'm ordered to drink. It tastes good. "Keep drinking," Ward tells me. "Just chill for a while. I'll check back on you in a bit. Kate, could you keep an eye on her? Just in case something happens." "Yeah, no problem." The game continues. I don't want to open my eyes. But as the minutes pass, I feel my strength returning. Kate tells me I'm looking less pale. My headache fades. By halftime, I'm feeling good enough to walk myself over to the water fountain and fill up my bottle. Ward asks me another few questions, and I tell him I feel much better. In fact, the only part of me that hurts is my stomach, from nerves. When the second half starts, I'm not put in. But five minutes in, with the score tied 23-23, I sub for Nell. I take her place on the wing, feeling good and confident. But when the whistle blows, that feeling fades. And I realize that I really don't feel better at all.

lost frozen fingers frozen breath late-night talks that turned to death voices silent thoughts unheard i was never your preferred memories i dare not touch for fear they'll crumble in my clutch now so cautious clear my mind lost enduring lost inside.

Part X (trying to start writing) "I don't feel good." Dad's busy pulling open drawers and slamming cupboards. Cole looks at him, then back to me. Worried. "Dad?" "Get yourself some medicine," he grumbles. "Second shelf." "That's cold medicine. I don't have a cold." "What do you want, then?" "My stomach hurts," I say. "Get some Tums." "I don't know where that is." "Well, find it!" he snaps. Turning to my brother, he says, "Help her with that, please. I've got a lot to do." Dad must not find what he's looking for, because he shoves the drawer shut and leaves the room. The ringing in my ears returns, along with a new feeling of heaviness and fuzziness in my head. "My stomach hurts," I say. "I know," Cole says from somewhere behind me. "I'm trying to find you something." Cabinet doors open and close. Each time one slams, a jolt runs through me. Outside the window, rain continues to come down. Light now, but it will get worse by morning. "Here," Cole says. "I found some Tums. We're almost out, though." I look from him to the pink container and stare at the label. Tums. Funny name. Sounds like the name of a teddy bear. Or an uncle. Uncle Tums. I think I'll call Henrick that next time he comes. "Hey, you okay? Julia?" My head snaps up. I didn't realize I was staring at the floor. "What? Yep. Yep, I'm good. I'm okay. Feel good, you know. Tums. That's good." My brother looks funny when he makes his eyebrows do that. I try to mimic him and laugh when I imagine how I must look. "Uh, good, I guess. Glad you're feeling better already." He puts the Tums on the counter. "See you in the morning, then." I'm still laughing as I mount the stairs. But after brushing my teeth, putting my hair up and pulling on some sweats, nothing is funny anymore. My head is beginning to throb. My vision is dotted with black spots, and my face is pale in the mirror. And my stomach is hurting even worse. I am not feeling better at all.