Winston and the rest of his team rushed forward like an attacking army. I was still standing there like an idiot when the first ball was launched in my direction. It was radiating an eerie green glow, as if someone had just dipped it in a pool of radioactive sludge. I would’ve started the game off with a faceful of toxic rubber if I hadn’t hit the deck just in time. Rising to my hands and knees, I caught a glimpse of a red-eyed girl on Winston’s team. She was holding a ball in front of her chest. When she removed her hands, the ball remained in place, drifting between her palms, surrounded by waves of red light. It was a disturbing sight, and it only grew worse when she trained her red eyes on me. The energy field crackled and sparked. And even though the girl’s hands never moved, the ball shot forward like it had been fired out of a cannon. I rolled sideways, feeling a rush of wind sweep past as the ball missed me by less than an inch. “You can run!” Winston screamed from across the court.
