Chapter 2

Joe Nelson dribbled towards the basketball hoop, switching the ball from his left and to his right. Since it was a second-period gym class in June, coach Johnson decided today would be a free day for choosing your own exercise. Joe and his buddies, Curt Parson and Steve Manning, decided to shoot hoops outside. This way they could chat and get some exercise without getting sweaty – at least not too sweaty. The sun was shining, and there was a breeze cooling down the air enough to make one want to run to warm up. It may have been June, but in Maine, one never knew when summer might start. A few of the other guys kicked a soccer ball around. A couple of others tossed a football back and forth. But Joe, Steve, and Curt loved basketball.

“With only seconds left on the clock, Nelson has to make the game-winning shot,” Joe broadcast to his buddies Curt and Steve.

Joe jumped up and released the ball towards the basket. The ball arched out of Joe’s hand smoothly. The ball hit the basket rim, rolled around a few times, and then very unceremoniously plunked to the ground.

Curt picked the ball up. His girth and short brown hair made him look much older than fifteen. He started dribbling.

“Well, buddy, hopefully, you’re luckier at love,” he told Joe.

Curt tossed the ball to Steve, a short skinny guy with glasses. Steve bobbled the ball for a second and then took control. He dribbled towards Joe.

“Actually, he has a better chance of sinking a 30-foot jumper than he does getting a date,” Steve joked.

Curt darted forward, stealing the ball from Steve. “What about the girl he’s always telling us about?”

Steve waved at the ball but missed. “You mean the mysterious Ukrainian Girl – Tasha? Who he only IMs within a text-only chat app? She’s like a thousand miles away. Plus, all that he knows she’s a he. Besides, it’s a chat app. Who does those things?”

“Guys, you know I can hear this. Right?” Joe said.

Curt leaped up dunking the ball into the basket. Curt landed on the ground, picked up the ball, and started spinning it on a finger. He gave his friends a satisfied grin.

“Of course, we know, Joe,” Curt told him. “We’re just looking out for you, buddy. You, my friend, are more than a little naïve. “Curt threw Joe the ball.

Joe caught the ball and dribbled in place. “I’m not naïve. I’m sure Tasha is a girl – an amazing girl.” Joe passed the ball to Steve.

Steve caught the ball a split second before it would have bounced off his chest. He grinned. “No need to get upset, Joe.” He bobbled the ball, steadied the ball, and started dribbling. “It’s just, you know, an internet chat room. You can’t be sure she’s not some strange guy. Or even if by some chance she is a girl, she’s not a dog.” Steve winked, “If you get my drift.” 

“I guess Smirnoff is Ukrainian for Smith,” he smirked.

“Have you googled her?” Curt asked, an eyebrow raised to show general confusion.

Steve giggled. “Googling her is probably all he’ll get to do with her.”

“I tried, but her last name is pretty common….”

“Have you seen her on social media?” Curt asked.

Joe shook his head. “Nah, she doesn’t do social media, she needs to train.”

Curt looked a little bewildered, “Then how can you be so sure about this girl, Joe?”

Joe lunged forward, swiping the ball from Steve. Joe put up another high arching shot. This one swished into the basket.

Joe dropped both of his hands to his waste. “Trust me, guys, she’s a she, and she’s beautiful inside and out.”