“Hey, Roderick,” Cleo greeted with a slight wave that afternoon, in the middle of a basketball court. Without waiting for Roderick’s greeting, Cleo went on. “Sharon wants to know what you’d like to see her wear tonight.”
Dribbling the basketball absentmindedly, Roderick thought for a while. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
“Why don’t you call her and tell her that? I don’t get why she’s asking me to ask you only to report to her again.”
Roderick snickered. “She’s shy. Girls are like that.” He looked up from his basketball to Cleo. “Catch.” He suddenly called, passing the ball to her.
The game of two began, regardless of the fact that Cleo was a girl. Roderick never let her go easy like he did the other girls. After all, most guys treated her as one of the boys. Cleo seldom–if ever–acted like a girl.