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I never liked her. Not from the moment she first stepped onto the court. Well, maybe I shouldn't say that. I wasn't actually there when she first stepped onto the court.

I was there the next day, running to be on time after school. My high school was pretty far from the court, so I always had to run so they wouldn't start without me. Sure, I almost got hit by a car once or twice while I was rushing to get to the court, but it was worth it. School sucked and home wasn't much better at that point, so the hour or so buffer of basketball between the two was the favourite part of my day.

Almost everybody was already there when I showed up. I tossed my backpack down on the side of the court and dug out my shoes. It was as I was lacing them on that Garet, one of our centers, walked over. Even at 15, he was already growing into a giant, lanky thing. The nonstop, two year growth spurt he was on had left him skinny for a croc, but still a great deal bulkier than most of us.

Garet wasn't one for pleasantries. As soon as he reached me, he got straight to the point. "New girl showed up yesterday."

I glanced up at him from where I was crouched on the ground. As always, my feathers were giving me difficulty with the laces, but I tried to ignore it as I replied. "So? It's September; new people are going to show up."

The towering crocodile didn't respond at first. I looked away from him and finished doing up my shoes. I knew that if he had more to say, then he would eventually spit it out.

I didn't have to wait too long. As I stood up and started stretching, he cleared his throat, and then spoke. "I don't like her."

"...alright. So?"

"Nobody likes her."

I sighed. Great. "Why's that?"

"'cause she's a bitch."

Blunt as always. "And why're you telling me this?"

"Because. She's a... some sort of parrot thing." My confusion must've been clear on my face, because he sighed, and then growled out, "Well, we figured that since you're a bird too, you might be able to..."

"Talk to her?" I almost wanted to laugh. "Why don't you talk to her yourself?"

"We just figured it would be easier for you, since you're a bird too and all."

I watched him for a few moments longer. There was a look in his eyes that I wasn't used to at the time. Even though it was never a good idea to bait the crocodile, I couldn't resist my next words. "Don't tell me you're afraid of her."

He wanted to hit me. It was obvious on his face. I even noticed his fist bunching up, and readied myself to jump back. Instead of taking a swing, though, he just growled out, "Not afraid. I just don't like hitting girls. Or birds, for that matter. Brittle bones."

I clenched my beak a bit tighter. The threat was about as subtle as Garet got. I counted out two breaths before I replied. "Well, if she shows up again today, I might talk to her."

"I appreciate it."

He walked away, and I let out a breath I hadn't known that I'd been holding. Garet had a... reputation in most of the high schools around downtown Vancouver. Nobody was sure which rumours were true and which were just stories, but nobody was keen to find out, least of all me.

I finished up my stretching, and stepped onto the court. It was an old court with rough, broken pavement and chain nets. I only started going to it for pickup games last year, during my first year of high school. Sometimes we had enough players to have a full game with spares to switch out. Sometimes I showed up and wound up just playing a short one on one. Garet was there most days, but I was the only one that was always there.

We were just about to start when I noticed everybody tensing up and looking towards the road. I followed their gaze, and saw a car approaching the court. I thought they were just staring because of the car, and fair enough. I didn't know much about cars at the time, but I knew enough to tell that the car was probably worth more than what my parents made in a year.

I was about to turn back to the others and get them to start the game, but the car slowed down. For a second I didn't understand, but then it clicked. I glanced over to Garet, whose eyes were on me. He nodded, and I raised an eyebrow. There was no way that...

The car rolled to a stop beside the court. A wolf jumped out of the driver's door and came around to open the back door. After a second's dramatic pause, out stepped the girl that would make the next few years of my life a living hell.

Catherine DeMille. Even the name sounded wealthy. At the time, she looked like just about any girl around my age. Well, no, not quite. Her black plumage held a certain shine, and those patches on her cheeks were a striking, beautiful shade of red. She was the first palm cockatoo I'd ever met, but I knew at a glance that most normal cockatoos didn't have quite that much healthy shine to them.

She was already dressed to play when she hopped out of the back of the car. She stepped by the wolf like she didn't even notice he was there, and strode towards us. Behind her, the wolf closed the door, then hopped back into the car. He drove off just as she reached us.

There was silence as she stood there, staring us down. She had these cold, dark blue eyes that seemed to never blink. It was only when I looked away to avoid meeting those eyes that I noticed everybody else was looking either uncomfortable or angry. Garet in particular had his hands clamped into fists at his sides.

"So, are we ready to play?" I whipped my head back around to face her. Her voice was just as cool as those eyes. Even the way she spoke and pronounced her words suggested wealth. She seemed unphased by the eight sets of eyes glaring at her, or my own confusion.

After what felt like forever, I cleared my throat. She looked to me.

"Sure thing. We're short a forward." I tried to make it sound casual, and it only turned partly into a croak. I cleared my throat, then added, "Name's Hiro."

She nodded. "Catherine." Without further comment, she went over to join the other team. Everything still felt tense and awkward, but everybody quickly settled into their positions. Garet, our center, muttered something, then turned to face the horse who was playing center on the opposite team. We'd already lost the coinflip to see who started with the ball.

The horse passed the ball to Garet, and Garet sent it back, and then everybody started moving.

I backed up quickly, letting everybody else go on the attack for the ball. I was satisfied to see that in the heat of the game, it seemed that everybody had already forgotten about the cockatoo. The ball thumped out a steady tattoo on the pavement, with the patter of footsteps echoing it.

Abruptly, the ball zipped out from the middle of a small throng of players, and it was back in the horse's hands. He made to move forward, but Garet was already in his way. Not wanting to tangle with the big crocodile, the horse turned and made a quick, deft pass to Catherine.

She came in hard from our open side, and I moved to intercept her. For a rich girl, she clearly knew how to handle the ball. I lowered myself, and then moved to slip in at the ball.

She disappeared. Or at least that's how it looked to me. One second she was there, dribbling towards me, and the next I was stumbling through empty space. I manage to catch my balance, and spun around, thinking to catch her. She was already two steps into a layup. I still tried to step forward to stop her, but she took her third step, jumped, and shot.

The ball swooped through the hoop, and the chain netting clinked softly. The ball hit the ground, and bounced a few times.

Everybody was quiet for a few seconds after that. She was still looking up at the net appreciatively, as though considering what she'd just done. Then, she stepped over to pick up the ball, and turned to face me.

For the first time, my eyes met her cool blue ones directly. As she stared me down, I knew she was judging me. I was the best guard in our group. Hell, if I'd had enough time to play on my school's team, I would probably have made varsity. She'd just danced by me and made me look like my shoes were tied together.

"Your ball," she muttered, and passed it to me. I caught off of reflex, and she was already walking by me. I turned to follow her, and for the first time I realized that everybody else was staring at the two of us. I felt heat rising to my cheeks, and hoped that it wouldn't show through the black feathers.

Garet approached, and I handed the ball off to him. He quickly whispered, "You see what I mean?"

"She beat me once. Doesn't mean anything."

He snorted at that, and we all took up our positions.

The rest of the hour was a series of frustrating failures. Almost every time Catherine got her hands on the ball, it wound up in the net. It didn't matter how hard I came at her, or how many defenders tried to corner her. She found a way to slip through, and wound up at the net. With each time she scored, I could feel everybody's mood getting sourer.

At first I thought they were just being poor losers. So what if she was good? It didn't mean that we had to hate her for it. As we kept playing, though, I noticed small things that annoyed me. She only passed if forced to; if there was even a slim chance that she could get a shot at the net, she took it. Worst, she never acknowledged when a teammate passed to her, or the rare times when somebody else on her team scored. It was almost like she couldn't see the rest of us. Worse, maybe she could see us, but just couldn't think of us as people.

The most disconcerting moments for me were the rare times that I actually managed to get the ball away from her. She was good, but after awhile I started getting a feel for how she moved. My attempted blocks were still blind, but every now and again one managed to connect.

On those few occasions, after the mad rush to get the ball to the other side of the court, I always found my eyes wandering over to Catherine. Every time, she looked... offended, I guess. Like I'd done something awful to her. It really threw me off.

Fortunately, Catherine wasn't as good on the defence as she was on offence. We lost, but the score was pretty close. Of course, that on its own was weird; normally if Garet and I were playing on the same team, the game was a lot more one-sided.

The game ended as it normally did; a few of us started losing interest, and one or two had to leave. We were down to six players when that same expensive car from earlier rolled up beside the court. Garet had just scored anyways, and so Catherine simply stretched, and muttered, "Well, that was alright. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Without further ado, she turned and headed for the car. The five of us still on the court just stared after her. Nobody was quite sure what to make of her. I could feel Garet's eyes on me, though, and I knew that I would hear about it if I didn't try to talk to her. I sighed, then jogged after her.

"Hey, Cat."

She drew up short halfway to the car, and turned to face me. I hesitated as her glare fell on me, and only caught my breath after I heard the ball bouncing on the pavement behind me. Apparently the others still felt like playing.

At length, she muttered, "My name is Catherine."

Not the best start to a conversation. "Right. Catherine, sorry. Look, I was wondering if-"

"Let me save you some time." I was surprised by the interruption, and she took advantage of that surprise to just keep on talking. "I'm sure you're a nice enough guy. I'm not really interested in what you have to say, though."

I'm pretty sure I made a few sounds. I don't think any of them were really words, though, because she kept talking.

"I've got more important things to do with my time right now than listen to you."

"Like what?" Great comeback, Hiro. Still, it was the best I could come up with under pressure. I was still reeling from just how... well, how rude she was.

She eyed me with distaste. "Like going back to my family's estate and practicing on a court that doesn't have grass growing through the cracks."

...well. If I was surprised at her rudeness before, then I don't even know how I felt about what she'd just said. Her family's estate. She could have just said her home. I tried to push those thoughts away for later. The insult against the court was enough for me to finally find the sharp side of my beak. "If you hate the court, then you don't have to come back tomorrow."

"No, I don't," she agreed. "I will, though. See you then..."

"Hiro," I supplied. We both knew I'd already told her my name.

"Whatever."

And she walked away. The wolf was holding the door to the car open for her, and ushered her in. As soon as she was inside, he went around to the driver's seat, got in, and then they were gone.

I stared after her car for what felt like a long time. The prospect of having her come back wasn't one that I was looking forward to. I was just starting to think about ways to discourage her from coming back when I heard somebody stepping up behind me.

"So how'd the talk go?" Garet's voice was expectant. I held in my sigh of annoyance, and then spoke.

"Oh, great. We used our magical bird connection and had a real heart to heart. We won't be seeing her again."

"The sarcasm isn't necessary." I didn't have to look at him to know that he was standing straighter, trying to look intimidating. "If you're having so much trouble asking little miss rich bitch not to come back, though, that's fine."

"I didn't see you try talking to her. All you seemed to do was stare whenever she got around you with the ball."

"You're the guard. That's supposed to be your job." His voice was picking up a bit of a growl, now. "Though maybe you forgot. I know you're distracted lately, what with your dad."

I finally turned to face him at that. His voice left no illusion that he was being kind or considerate. What I came to face, though, was six and a half feet of crocodile. I still glared up at his face, but I bit back the sharp retort that was forming in my throat.

He held my gaze evenly, no doubt knowing exactly what I wanted to say. After a few tense seconds, he muttered, "Sorry, that was out of line. So, what's the next plan?"

I kept my eyes on him for a few more breaths, thinking about how I would answer that question. Then, despite how angry I was, I felt a small smirk coming to my face. "Well, if you aren't going to talk to her, then I'd suggest getting a lot better a lot faster."

I turned on my heel and walked away after that. I headed right over to my backpack, and grabbed it up. I didn't even bother to change my shoes as I walked off of the court and out into the street. True, I wasn't looking forward to playing against Catherine tomorrow. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to her running circles around Garet, though.