Chapter 1 #2
The TV flashed with a movie on channel three. We only had maybe ten channels since it was basic cable; therefore, I watched whatever was playing.
“Basketball is for thugs,” I muttered, slurping a forkful of noodles in my mouth. I chewed maybe three times and swallowed. “The hell you want to hang with me for if your dad didn’t even like my kind?” I asked out loud.
Kane did seem chill and everything, especially how smooth he was on the court.
He would be someone other than Vani that I could possibly hang with, but he wasn’t even from my world.
He had no idea what it was like to grow up on this side of town in Love Heights projects.
He had no idea of the struggle of lying in bed at night, praying you’ll open your eyes in the morning and not be dead, body riddled with bullet holes.
He didn’t know the struggle of having to stretch little to no food for a whole week.
Kane surely had options of what he wanted to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Let’s not forget about the snacks. Kane probably never had to worry about his electricity, water, or cable being turned off.
He probably shopped at all the designer stores, not having to even check the price tags.
Other than basketball, what else did me and Kane have in common?
My government phone rang, and I picked it up because I knew it was my mama checking on me.
“Hey, Ma,” I answered, slurping the last forkful of noodles in my mouth.
“Hey, Slim. What are you doing?” she asked through a yawn.
“I just finished eating noodles. I’m about to watch a movie.”
“Don’t let anybody up in my house,” she said. She reminded me of this every day. “Not even Vani.”
“I know… I know, Ma,” I mumbled.
It wasn’t that Mama didn’t like Vani. She just felt like he was up to no good most of the time, and most of the time he was.
Ever since Vani went to jail for a day for some weed, she really didn’t like me hanging out with him.
Vani always looked after me, though. If my stomach growled a little too loudly, he would drag me to the corner store for some chips and a drink.
If someone joked about my appearance, he was on their ass. Vani was my boy.
“You played ball today?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Mmhmm. I have a game on Monday.”
“I wish I could come, baby, but these bills are not gon pay themselves.”
“It’s okay, mama.”
We talked for another minute before she complained about running the minutes up, and then ended the call. I took my bowl to the kitchen, cleaned it, and then curled up on the couch to finish the movie.
My eyes fluttered, getting heavy. The last thing that was on my mind before falling victim to sleep was Kane whooping me on the court. I needed to redeem myself.
Monday.
Game night.
“This lil’ boy,” a player from the opposite team snickered, pointing at me.
I didn’t care to go back and forth with her because I was going to show her. Usually, I didn’t go too crazy during high school games like I did in streetball because the refs call every damn thing, but I guarantee, I was gon break her ankles tonight.
We were in the last quarter, up by six. The bleachers were packed, our side the fullest since we were home. My red jersey stuck to my back from running up and down the court. Coach Thomas barely sat me down since I was the coldest on the team. It was their ball with three minutes left on the clock.
The ball passed around, and I timed it perfectly.
When a player on the other team attempted to pass it to the shit talker, I interfered and took off in the other direction.
The crowd hollered, but it wasn’t over until I put it through the net.
I started to go up and then was pushed hard, causing me to fall and slide on the floor.
“Ah!” I hollered when my right shoulder hit the floor.
A whistle was blown, and a foul was called, but the pain shooting up my arm wouldn’t allow me to hop up fast enough.
One of my teammates, Alicia, came to see about me while the rest of my team rushed to confront the girl who pushed me, which, of course, was the shit-talking bitch. The refs got involved and broke it up.
“You good to shoot?” Alicia asked.
Rolling my shoulder in circles, I nodded and gritted out, “Yeah, I’ll ice it later.”
After assuring the coach and the ref that I was fine, I grilled the player who pushed me while walking to the free-throw line.
She smirked. One thing I wasn’t gon do is lose the opportunity to get a full-ride basketball scholarship over beating her ass.
I rolled my shoulder again to ease the throbbing.
The ref passed me the ball. I winced, reaching for it.
I shot the first one and missed. My head dropped, and I shook it.
“That’s aight, Slim!” Vani. I knew his voice, and I knew he would be here. “Shake that shit off!”
Vani didn’t give a damn. He’d end up in the principal’s office tomorrow morning, only for Principal Duncan to remind him about cussing at the games.
I shot the second one and —
Swish!
We were now up by seven points with less than two minutes on the clock. I had to eat the pain for now and worry about it later.
The game ended with us winning by five. Instead of sticking around, I headed to the locker room. Upon heading there, a familiar face stood out to me. Not just his face, but the blue and white letterman's jacket he wore that represented Heart Heights.
What the hell was he doing here?