1
CHARLI
I dribblethe ball on the driveway, spinning and taking a shot, smiling when it swooshes through the net.
Girl’s got game.
I laugh at the voice in my head and jump forward to retrieve the ball before it rolls into the street. It’s a hot summer’s day, and I can hear the kids two doors down playing in their pool. Their delighted screams and yells echo on our street. I don’t mind it so much. I’m guessing cranky Mrs. Spindle across the road is hating every second of it. What’s the bet that she’ll start blasting her classical music to counter it any second now.
With a snicker, I dribble the ball back to the hoop, aware that I’m adding to the noise pollution on our usually quiet street. Mrs. Spindle is probably super pissed that Darian and I are home for a few weeks. It’s our summer break; where the hell else does she expect us to go? Sawyer’s just around the corner, and she’ll no doubt be grumbling about that too.
The three of us have gotten up to our own noisy trouble plenty of times.
Accelerating toward the hoop, I do a quick jump shot, tipping the ball into the hoop before landing with a grin.
Yes! I might be the shortest girl on my team, but I can jump like freaking Spider-Man.
That’s what Coach always tells me. She’s kind of gutted that I’m not gunning for the big leagues, but professional basketball has never been in the cards for me.
It was a way to get myself a scholarship to Nolan U, but ever since I found out what a physical therapist is, I’ve wanted to be one. I used to watch them working with my dad. The way they eased his pain, helped him manage in his wheelchair.
I want to help people that way too.
And as much as I love the game, I can never have the impact on the court that I could have off it, so it’s settled.
“Charli!” Darian bursts out the front door in nothing but a pair of Nuggets basketball shorts. His face is all lit up like he’seight years old again and Mom just told us we could have dessert for dinner.
About once a month, she’d surprise us with this treat, and rather than having to eat meat and veggies, she’d make a chocolate lava cake or cherry pie for dinner. It was the best!
“You’re not gonna believe it!” He jumps, blocking my shot with a laugh.
I race after the ball, snatching it up and spinning with a quick three-pointer. It hits the rim, and I rush forward to catch it before Darian steals it off me.
“Mom’s making cherry pie for dinner,” I guess as I shoot for the hoop and get nothing but net.
Thank fuck for that.
For some reason, I always play worse when Darian’s watching me. I think it’s the pressure of trying to impress my big bro, who has always been taller and stronger than me—dammit!
“It’s waaaayyyyy better than that, sis. I swear, you’re gonna love it.”
“Okay.” I jump to block his shot, my fingers brushing the bottom of the ball and setting it off course enough to skim the rim. “Ha!” I laugh, and we race for the ball, tussling over that beloved orange-and-black sphere until Darian relents and lets me take another shot.
“Would you fucking guess already?” my brother complains. “I’m dying here.”
I snicker. “You could just tell me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” His pointed look is kind of hilarious, and I shake my head.
For a sibling, Dee’s not half bad.
Okay, fine. He’s the best brother in the world, and I adore him. We’ve always gotten along great. We’re only a year apart, so we’ve grown up close, and thankfully we’re best friends.
But I really hate the guessing game. It’s a pain in the ass.
Shooting for the hoop again, I smile as it bounces off the backboard and into the net.
“Nice.” Darian catches the ball, and I hold my hands up, asking for it back.
