Razor Girl by Marianne Mancusi

shorts pulled tight across her butt, and Chris gulped. As she took her shot, effortlessly hopping on one foot and watching the ball swish through the hoop, he fought the urge to clap. Impressive. He barely managed to score in the sim.
    The ball rolled down the driveway and she turned to chase it. Stopped as her eyes fell on him. He grabbed the ball before it could roll into the street.
    “Um, yes?” she said, her voice cold. “What do you want?”
    He was taken aback. “I thought…You said…We were going to ask your dad…” Had he misheard? Had she changed her mind? Disappointment washed over him. Had he made a bigger fool of himself than ever?
    “Oh.” Some flicker of recognition lit her eyes. He squinted at her, noticing for the first time that her cheeks were blotchy. Her eyes were bloodshot. She’d been crying!
    How dare someone make his goddess cry? A wave of protectiveness mixed with anger washed over him, and he wished more than anything he could just walk up and hug her, fix what ever was wrong, no matter what it was. Of course she’d probably rather hug a muddy pig, so he decided against following through.
    “That’s right,” she said, rubbing a hand against her cheek. “Sorry. I forgot.”
    “What happened?” he asked, walking up and handing her the basketball. He might not be allowed to touch her, but he could still sympathize. “You okay?”
    “I’m fine,” she said. The words were too quick to bebelievable. She grabbed the ball. “Listen, do you think you could come tomorrow or something? This isn’t a good time for me.”
    What was the deal? Had she learned something more about Mrs. McCormick? But no, she barely knew the woman and would simply tell him. It had to be something bigger, something more personal, something that had nothing to do with him. Had someone she knew died? Had she gotten in trouble with her parents? Failed a test in school? What? It was driving him crazy, and she obviously wasn’t going to tell him.
    Why should she tell you? a voice inside his head jeered. After all, Molly had no reason to love him like he loved her. He was a geek. A nerd. A nobody. Hell, he was lucky she’d even let him set foot on her driveway.
    Still, now that she had, he wasn’t going to let her off the hook. He took the ball back and dribbled it a few times, prepared for a shot. It felt heavy in his hands, very different than the virtual ball they played with in Basketball Dayz. Holding it over his head, he threw in the direction of the hoop. It hit the backboard and bounced away. “Damn.” He raced after the ball. “I suck in real life as bad as I do in the sim.” Grabbing it and bouncing it back to the center of the driveway, he gave her an apologetic grin.
    “Sim basketball’s for nerds,” Molly scoffed, grabbing the ball away and laying it up into the hoop. She was good. And so hot. As the ball bounced back to her, she passed it. Chris caught it and shot again. This time it bounced off the rim.
    “Closer,” she said, half-smiling. She caught the ball and bounced it to him. “Try again.”
    He caught the ball and looked up at the hoop. Concentrating this time, he aimed first. Pictured the shot going in. Pictured Molly being impressed.
    He shot.
    It bounced off his head.
    As it rolled down the driveway, he rushed after it, his face burning. He swiped it up with both hands, turned and shotwithout thinking, wanting to rid himself of the stupid ball for good—
    Swish!
    “Damn!” he cried. He was so surprised and pleased, excited by his accomplishment that he’d all but forgotten it was a ploy to get her to talk.
    Molly gave him a thumbs-up. “Not bad,” she said approvingly. “Not bad at all when you don’t think so hard.”
    “One more,” he told her, feeling all warm inside. “And if I make this one, you have to tell me why you’ve been crying.”
    Molly considered. “Okay,” she said at last. “You’ll never get two in a row anyway.”
    Oh, wouldn’t he? They’d