The Contract

Chapter 2 - Feeling

It was awfully chilly for an autumn morning. This day marked the fresh start of a new semester. New acquaintances, new lecturers, perhaps even newer facilities. Despite the fact that I normally wouldn't attend class punctually, I did not want to miss out on any lessons on my first day. Basketball was my future, but you can never be sure with the injury bug. I've known many NBA stars decline by the cruel force of fate, their careers torn apart by injuries. After their downfalls, they struggled with the sport, switching from team to team, eventually either accepting an early retirement, or playing overseas at a less competitive level. Walking to campus on foot was exhausting, but I had no choice, given that I had already missed the bus earlier.

I wondered what exactly happened an hour ago. It was so puzzling and mystifying. My parents and siblings had suggested that maybe I had a hallucination; extremely unsettling given that they rarely agreed on something like this. They had said that my collapsing occurred when I was about to open the door, but unless my memory was altered somehow, I was certain the man in the black suit had something to do with that. But why couldn't I remember the man's face in detail, though the memory of the incident was still fresh in my mind? What made me even more uncomfortable were the bloody words scribbled over the words on the papers. The papers were confidential, contract details with a basketball agent, but the bloody scrawl made my skin crawl.

Those words. What could they have meant? Contemplating about the incident just now as I trudged forward on uneven, grassy terrain, I was also anxious to at least be present in my first microeconomics lecture. I needed to participate in college classes as often as I could so my education could serve as a buffer for my future. Often skipping lectures to put up more shots at the basketball court, or working on my conditioning at the gym, I tried to balance out my studies and my basketball as much as I could. You never know, you know. Afflictions happen to even the best and luckiest of us.

Oddly enough, the temperature of the air seemed to drop slightly with every few steps I took. It was puzzling. The smell of the morning grass usually made me feel refreshed, but whiffing the scent today made me feel rather nauseated. A sickening, pungent aroma, it permeated the air and made it difficult to inhale comfortably. Reminiscent of something rotten, I quickened my pace, not wanting to breathe in such a disgusting odor.

Ultimately I arrived at my destination; and as usual, the sight of my college blew me away. It was so breathtakingly spectacular, and a huge reason why I got here was because my parents worked their asses off daily. Students loitered and hung out throughout the entire college grounds even though the weather was bordering on biting cold. I started to shiver a bit even though I had a thick hoodie on. The cold wind blew from behind, prompting me to pull up my hood and stuff my hands into my pockets. God, my fingers were so numb.

Most people on campus knew me; why wouldn't they? I was a bona fide basketball talent, who was likely to be drafted first in the NBA. On a typical day, I would be greeted by a few familiar faces who watched the games I played in. But today was different. Oddly enough, as I walked about campus, not a single person acknowledged my presence. It was as if I was invisible. Not a fan of the spotlight anyway, I continued my way to class. I swung open the door slowly, nervously staring at the lecturer, who was writing down on the whiteboard. My classmates were unusually silent, as if everyone was mourning at a funeral. I didn't recognize a single face, and it appeared every seat had been taken already. It was to be expected, I suppose. Coming late to the lecture hall surely would cost me a seat. I plopped my bag onto the floor and was just about to make myself comfortable by leaning against the wall when someone caught my attention.

"Hey! There's a seat over here!"

Glancing over to the voice that shattered the quiet atmosphere, I spotted a girl waving at me to come over to her. Not wanting to spend the rest of the lecture session standing, I hastily slung my bag over my shoulder and scurried to where she sat. The other students ignored her, some cussing angrily at me as I collided against their legs whilst making my way to the girl.

"Thank you so much," I exhaled a deep sigh of gratitude, extending my hand out to shake. "I haven't got your name, by the way. You can call me Brad."

Looking closer at her, she was astonishingly charming. Her eyes were pristine turquoise opals, complimented by her navy blue circular glasses. Her nose was like if a blacksmith crafted a small replica of a shark fin and fitted in onto her slim, oval face perfectly. Her eyebrows were thick and full of life, adding a mischievous, youthful touch to her otherwise flawless face, save for a few uneven blemishes here and there. Smooth, wavy locks of blonde hair captivated me, and for the first time in my life I was stunned. She wore a look that was somewhat timeless; you wouldn't be able to tell if she was sixteen or in her late twenties.

She returned the gesture, shaking my hand firmly. Her hand was really warm.

"The name's Melia. Overslept, I presume?"

Nodding, I chuckled sheepishly as I tried to wave it off. The thing that happened this morning was still bugging me. I wanted to believe that I had fainted, maybe even overslept, as it could possibly be a dream, but my intuition advocated otherwise. The only time in my life when I actually did faint was due to immense elation after winning a championship game for my high school basketball team.

I couldn't quite catch the lecturer's face when he turned around to address a student's question on opportunity cost, but something about him was familiar. Not knowing where I had seen the man before, I tried concentrating on the class. However, in the corner of my eye, I noticed Melia stealing glances at me as the lecture went on.

"I don't mean to assume, but why's a basketball star like you sitting in my microeconomics class? Shouldn't you be off working on your game or something? Shooting the ball? I don't know?"

Sighing, I explained my situation and paranoia on a possible injury in the future that would mar my career, and she listened. It wasn't until the lecturer in front irritably called out my name that I realized I had been talking too loudly. I looked around. My classmates had their attention directed at me now, thanks to the lecturer. Those near me had caught wind of what I had said and were snickering to themselves on how insecure I was.

"Do you have something to share with the class, Mr. Porter? I'd like you to come up here and introduce yourself to the class, since you turned up rather late today. You thought I wouldn't notice you sneaking through the back door like that?"

Feeling rather self-conscious as the nearly hundred or so students in the lecture hall had their eyes fixated at me as I made my way to the front, I swallowed down my anxiety and comforted myself. I've played basketball in front of bigger crowds. Surely I wouldn't have a problem introducing myself to a bunch of college kids, right?

Clearing my throat, I tried to smile confidently as I began to introduce myself.

"Not sure if any of you know me; my name's Bradley Porter. I'm turning nineteen this year end, and I'm passionate about basketball."

Silence.

Not a single person acknowledged my introduction except for Melia and the lecturer, who were clapping their hands courteously. Sweat started to bead on my forehead as this had never happened before. Although my college wasn't famous for its basketball team, I was among the top three recruits in my draft class, and a highly probable top pick whilst transitioning to the NBA. In high school, everywhere I went, I was met with the spotlight and applause. For some eerie reason, ever since my family moved here so that I could attend this college, the number of reporters and media coming over to ask me questions skidded to a stop. The basketball games I played in were always sold out, but very rarely did a reporter come to approach me to ask me questions after the game.

It was as if I was in a child's play, with someone pulling the strings. I felt uneasy.

Then in a blink of an eye, the whole class started clapping, some cheering me on as though they had just recognized my basketball prowess and were applauding due to my fame. As if a switch had been turned on in them. Like there was a puppet master behind all this. At my side, I noticed the lecturer clapping along with them, but when I looked at his face, I felt nauseous. Something about his face summoned bad memories to resurface in my head. The scenario this morning replayed itself in my head, but this time the recollection was further distorted by some unknown cause. Trying to recall how the man in the morning incident looked like now was like trying to locate a needle in a haystack. It was lost in the bleak depths of my cerebrum; the more I tried to reach it, the further it strayed from my grasp.

The voice of the lecturer brought me crashing right back into the shreds of reality.

"Hello? Hello. Porter, you there?" The man waved his hand in my face, and I was back to the real world. I think.

Uncomfortably making my way back to my seat, I glanced around to notice that everyone had resumed doing their things. I spaced out throughout the rest of the lecture as I sat at my desk, deep in thought on the events that had occurred. It wasn't until someone shook me roughly that I realized the students were leaving their seats and heading to the exit of the lecture hall.

"Brad, class's over." I looked up to see Melia shaking me. Ignoring her confused expression, I gave her a shaky, grateful smile, hurriedly grabbing my bag to head out of the lecture hall. What was up with today? First, this morning, I faint at my house because of a weird man, and when I come to, my family starts acting indifferent to what I had experienced prior to my faint. The words on the man's papers had seemingly changed from a house eviction notice to a basketball agency contract.

Secondly, as a well-known commodity in the basketball circles, one would expect more people to acknowledge me, right? Not a chance today, or even the last few months for that matter. In fact, ever since my family moved here, it has felt as though people have been ostracizing me more and more as time went by. I'm not sure what went wrong after we moved here. Because my parents liked the college, and perhaps the weather over here, I presumed. We moved yet again, this time to someplace warmer. I guess that's why I usually had a hard time socializing with most people of my age group.

And tax evasion, too. My family was almost always swimming in financial debt, so my parents frequently worked odd jobs in an attempt to keep us afloat. But they were never sufficient; the debtors kept on coming and coming. I guess that's probably the main reason why we kept moving from time to time. But this time, this time I had hoped it would be different. That my family could settle down, and make a life for themselves here. Once I got drafted, and I had signed a lucrative contract deal, my family would be set, at least for a while. I wouldn't have to go around starting anew; having to cope with new faces.

I sighed. Not one to deal with unnecessary distractions that hindered me from perfecting my craft - basketball - I typically preferred to be by myself; alone and easy to think things through. The noise from the students chatting loudly in the corridors made it hard to ponder, so I put on my headphones and began to play something soothing; something that would ease my soul for a bit. Eager to spend my free time at the indoor basketball court to shoot away my stress before my next lecture, I grinned a bit at the thought, humming along to the tune of my music as I walked.

The indoor court was empty as usual in the morning; nearly pitch black if not for the beams of light filtering through the windows of. The college team would frequent the area during the evenings after classes, and I would be practicing alongside them as well, but I needed the extra hour of practice to warm up and to hone my craft. I would never be satisfied until I reached the heights of the legends who played basketball.

With a flick of my wrist, the leather ball plummeted through the net with a clean stroke, forcing me to smile at the delightful swishing sound. Ah, this was freedom. Doing something I loved and was passionate about always brought forth a twinkle in my eye. Releasing the ball once more, I witnessed the perfect arc and angle that the orange blur flew with, sinking through the net once more without grazing the rim at all. It felt wholesome every time I set foot onto a basketball court, knowing I would be able to put up some extra shots in preparation for the games ahead.

Looking at the clock on the wall, I felt satisfied as I took note of the time. Still having abundance of time to sharpen my skills, I took a deep breath as I hoisted yet another shot. It was still early.