There were high-fives all around, and over the shoulder of one of our guards I saw the other team helping up the boy who had ran onto the court. He caught my eye, an ocean of space closing between us as our gazes connected. He shook his head at me, glaring in what I could only describe as disgust.
My friends noticed us gazing at each other. Rena, our centre, suggested we go have a chat with him. Rena was tall and broad-shouldered, and at that moment her face was contorted with anger. We all followed behind her to make sure that her “chat” didn’t involve dunking anyone’s head through the basket.