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"Why didn't you show up yesterday?"

I'm not sure what surprised me more: the fact that Catherine was at the court before I was, or the fact that she seemed to be offended about something. Normally I could only get her to crack by hinting that I was better than her. Right now, though, she had her arms crossed over her chest, and her big blue crest was standing up. By this point, I was used to her expensive clothing, so I just ignored it.

"I was busy," I replied, stepping through the gap in the chain link fence. My feet squelched every time I took a step. I wasn't looking forward to playing in those shoes. Oh well. I would make it work.

"Busy?" I kept trying to ignore the incredulous look on her face. "I've been playing with you for three months now. You've never been 'busy' before. What was so important yesterday?"

"Nothing." I walked past her without looking over at her, and headed to centre court. I stepped over to the defender's position, and called over to her, "Almost sounds like you missed me."

"Don't be an ass," she snapped. There were one or two comments I chose not to reply with as she came over to stand across from me. "You know that nobody else comes out in winter. It was a waste of my time."

She passed the ball to me, and I passed it back. We were off, stepping and occasionally slipping through the thick slush. The ball bounced with thick, hollow thumps, sending bits of wet snow splattering up onto our legs. By this point, both of us had gotten used to the strange requirements of playing basketball in water and slush. We moved slightly slower, but with greater care. Our rounds lasted longer now than they had when we'd started this a few weeks ago. Both of us were learning how the other moved, forcing each of us to get better, and to think about how we were moving.

The round ended, as it did most of the time, with Catherine just managing to slip by me and get a shot in. I didn't need to look to see that she'd scored. I don't think I'd ever seen her miss. I just went over to collect the ball, calling back to her as I walked.

"Oh? So me normally being here isn't a waste of your time? Last week I thought you said you didn't think of me as a real challenge."

"You aren't a challenge," she replied. I tossed the ball to her, and she tossed it back.

I came on hard, right for her. She looked surprised for a moment, then she settled herself in.

I turned sharply, keeping myself between her and the ball. I held an arm out, keeping her from pushing around in front of me as I dribbled, sidling closer to the net.

"That said," she muttered, keeping pace with me, "you're the closest thing I've got to a challenge in this damn city."

I turned abruptly, and took a quick step ahead of her. I brought the ball up, and shot.

Catherine's hand came around and smacked the ball out of the air. Slush splattered as it hit the ground, bouncing off to the side of the court.

"I keep telling you that that's just for now." I turned and headed for centre court while Catherine grabbed the ball. "I'm improving faster than you are. You know it."

We squared off. She passed the ball to me, I passed it to her. She took off, and I followed.

"You're still losing, though." Her voice was choppy, broken up with heavy breaths.

I ignored her voice and focused on her movements. I'd seen her make this play a dozen times before. She stopped abruptly and turned, hoping my momentum would leave me off-balance and out of position. It had worked the first few times she'd tried it on me, but this time I stopped dead, right in front of her.

I saw the split second of surprise and panic on her face when she saw me. She went up onto her toes and she raised the ball. I jumped and reached.

My fingers just scraped along the bottom of the ball as it flew. It wasn't much, but it was enough to throw off her aim. The ball hit the backboard and ricocheted off, bouncing across the court.

She glared at me with that now familiar rage, her eyes narrowing. "How do you keep doing that?"

I couldn't resist a jab as I turned and headed to pick up the ball. "It isn't too hard. If you weren't so fast, I'd be blocking almost all of your attacks."

I picked up the ball and brushed the dirty slush off of it. When I turned around, Catherine was still watching me from where I'd blocked her. She was still glaring, but it looked a bit more guarded now.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, I cleared my throat. "What?"

She hesitated, her expression not changing. I was about to ask her to keep playing so that I wouldn't cool off when she spoke. "How do you mean? How would you be blocking them?"

It was my turn to hesitate. Did I really want to tell her? Now that it was just the two of us playing, it was my only real advantage over her.

"It's nothing," I finally settled on. "Let's just keep playing."

"No. I need to know."

"Could we just play? I'm getting cold."

"I'll buy you a coat."

I stopped at that, not quite sure how to respond. After a long moment of her just glaring at me, I stammered out, "I'm sorry?"

"That sweater's useless in the rain and snow. You're always freezing by the time we're done." She held my gaze, and hesitated. I wasn't sure whether she was thinking about what she was about to say or if she was just waiting for me to get a bit colder. "If you tell me how you keep blocking me, I'll buy you a new coat. A good one."

I kept staring at her. She was holding that glare evenly, but I could tell that even she knew that she was entering into strange territory.

"Are you trying to buy me?"

I saw the wheels turning in her head. Then she inclined her beak a bit. "I guess I am. Tell me how you're beating me, and I'll buy you a coat."

I was already turning away by the time she finished talking. "Screw this. I'm going home."

"When's the last time you had a new coat, Hiro? Or a new anything at all?"

"We're not having this conversation."

"I know you want to help me." Something about the way she said it drew me up short. I hesitated for a long couple seconds before finally turning back to her. She had followed me across the court, but was standing still now that I'd stopped. I waited for her to speak. "I see you before the games. You're always leading the practices. You spend more time getting everybody else organized than you do practicing yourself. You like watching people get better. That's what puts you ahead of Garet."

Her face was cold during the entire short speech, but she had to keep pausing to think about her words. I knew that she was picking them carefully, and that giving me any kind of compliment was probably painful for her. I cleared my throat. "So? The others treat me nicely. Why would I want to help you improve?"

Her beak parted, and I could see her thinking. When she spoke, her words were very measured. "Firstly, because all the others' niceness is never going to stop you from getting home with hypothermia every other day. Secondly, because if you don't, you're only refusing to help me because of your pride, and that would make you just as bad as Garet."

"You're assuming that I don't like Garet."

"You don't."

"How would you know?"

"Nobody likes Garet. He's an asshole."

I caught myself before I could make any comments about pots and kettles. She was still eying me, ready to yell at me again if I tried to back away.

At length, I sighed. I tossed the ball over to her. "Alright. Pretend I'm blocking you, and make a play at the net."

She waited for a moment, maybe thinking that I was trying to make fun of her. She started dribbling, getting comfortable. Then, her right foot slid forward...

"Pivot around the left, leading with your elbow, two steps and then a shot."

She actually stumbled as I called out exactly what she was doing. She caught her balance, and then turned back to stare at me. "How did you--?"

"Because it's the same thing you do every time somebody tries a direct block." She gave me a blank look, and I sighed. "You're fast. You're really fast. You're so good at all the deeks and feints you know that you can get by with only knowing a few. It doesn't change the fact that you always do the same two or three things in any given situation."

"So?"

"So as soon as you meet somebody that's as fast as you, or that's even close, they're going to be able to go circles around you. And since you're pretty awful on defence and stealing the ball back, that kinda leaves you with nothing to work with."

I couldn't read her face the entire time I was talking. At length, though, she replied. "I have been working on different ways of feinting. I'm not very good with them, yet."

I considered that, then nodded at the ball in her hands. "Show me."

"What? And let you just have the game?"

"It's a frigging practice between two people on a street court. Besides, I'm getting bored of blocking against the same five or six attacks all the time."

She eyed me carefully for a bit, probably trying to figure out if I was just toying with her. Then, she passed the ball from her left hand to the right, and started dribbling. I stepped over in front of her, and waited.

She kept dribbling for a few seconds, gathering her focus. Then, she came forward right at me.

I braced myself, expecting her to try and push past me. At the last second, though, she slipped to the side. It wasn't as fast as I was used to, but the initial rush had masked the direction she was going. I had to stumble and follow after her.

I was half a step behind her; far enough for her to be safe, but not far enough for her to be able to pause and take a shot. She drew me forward another couple steps, and then stopped abruptly. She brought the ball down and around and, much to my surprise, between her legs. Just like that, she was going the opposite direction, and I was completely off-balance.

Fortunately for me, she didn't seem to have been ready for the move, either. She stumbled on the second step, and the ball went bouncing away from her.

We both stood there, panting for breath after the short exchange. Catherine was the first to speak.

"See? Not ready yet."

"Are you joking? You were moving half the speed you normally do, and you still managed to completely throw me off. If you can tighten that one up a bit more, you'll be leaving me in the dust. Or slush."

She nodded slowly. We both stood there awkwardly for a bit. Eventually, I went over to collect the ball. We squared off at centre court, and started playing again. Catherine was a bit less aggressive on the offence, and tried out a couple other new bits of footwork. Generally they didn't go well, but as we kept playing they tightened up more and more. We didn't talk much about those attempts. I always felt like I should say something encouraging, but each time I knew it would come across as condescending.

I was happy when her car pulled up. The aggression we normally shared made the time pass quickly. The anger was something I could deal with. I knew how to react to it. The awkward silence... that was something completely different.

I passed the ball over to her, and she nodded and started walking away. She hesitated when she got to the fence, and glanced over her shoulder. Abruptly, her posture straightened so that she was looking down at me over her large beak. "I'll be sure to bring your rain coat tomorrow."

There was something about the way she said it that made me feel uncomfortable. Words escaped from my beak before I knew I was saying them.

"You don't have to. You were right earlier. I'm happy to help a friend improve."

There was a very long, uncomfortable pause. Catherine's voice was icy when she spoke. "I'll be sure to bring your coat tomorrow."

I'm not sure why, but it hit me like a punch in the chest. She turned away before I could respond, and then she was in the car. I watched it rolling away, staring until it left my vision. I began walking so that the cold wouldn't set in, but I kept my head down the entire way home. My stomach was jumping. I felt betrayed and used. She hadn't really said anything to suggest that what we were doing was making us closer as friends, but I'd gotten the feeling...

Worse than both of those feelings, though, was an odd, gnawing emptiness in my chest. I'd sold my knowledge. I'd given up my one advantage over her, and for what? A new coat?

I walked fast all the way home, wanting to throw up every step of the way.