Page 10 of Love & Streetball

“Aight,” he breathed out.

We made it to our apartments. Vani stayed down the way on the bottom.

“If you think I’ma cramp your style, we don’t have to walk in or sit together,” I let him know, cutting my eyes in his direction.

“Nigga, please. Nobody can cramp my damn style, and,” Vani smacked his lips, “you don’t embarrass me, Slim. I rock wit’ you ‘cause I fuck wit’ you. I’ll grab my uncle’s car.”

Nodding, I jogged toward my front door, unlocked it, and slipped into the apartment. I quickly texted my mama about going to the game with Vani. I already knew what she’d say when she responds.

“Be careful with Vani, Scottie. Don’t let him get you into any trouble.”

I’d moved to Love Heights projects when I was eight. Mama didn’t want to live in the housing authority and got on Section 8 instead, so she could live wherever she wanted that accepted it. Since she couldn’t find a house, she had to settle on the projects before the voucher expired. Vani was nine, going on ten. He’d walked up to our apartment, knocking on the door, asking if I could come out and play. Mama was about to say no, I knew it. I rushed under her arm with my ball tucked under my arm, and pleaded with her.

Mama ran a long spiel to Vani about whether I got hurt, she’d turn him every which way, but loose and not care who got mad. Vani lived with his Uncle Terris, who couldn’t care less. He was always around, drunk and slurring. Still do to this day. So, it wasn’t as if Mama didn’t know Vani that well; she just knew his ass was some trouble.

“All those tattoos covering his skin and he ain’t even out of school yet,” she had complained.

Tossing my backpack onto the bed, I unzipped it and pulled out my durag. I held it in my hands for a moment, then decided to leave it at home. It was time for these braids to come out. They were getting fuzzy, and the parts were no longer clear. I would have to wait until Mama found the time to braid my hair. It was only eight braids. I quickly took them down, wet my hair, and slicked it back into a low ponytail. I looked like a different person when I took my braids out. I changed into a hand-me-down blue Aeropostale shirt and my good jeans, the ones that fit just right. I smoothed the shirt down and stared at myself in the mirror for a second. My face always looked somewhat softer, somewhat babyface with my hair out of braids. I looked like a…girl.

I grabbed my Heartville Hawks hoodie that had a bleach stain on the right sleeve, wrapped it around my waist, and stuffed my phone into my back pocket. Vani was taking too long, so I locked the door and stood in front of it to wait for him. I was somewhat hyped to see Kane play tonight, and if Vani didn’t hurry, I’ll figure out how to get there myself.

4

Noise bounced around the locker room. RJ had a speaker in the corner, playing Boosie’s Set It Off. We were a team in the suburbs, but we got down to Boosie. That was our song to get us hyped. The white boys loved that shit.

I sat on the bench tying my Giannis Immortality 3s. They were creased and scuffed, but they were my best shoes. Coach Merrick paced back and forth with his clipboard, his thick eyebrows scrunched. We were already told the bleachers were packed.

“Cut the music down!” Coach barked. Once it was down, he continued with his pre-game speech.

I tugged my hoodie off, rolled my shoulders back, and cleared my mind. Every few minutes, Slim’s face would flash in my mind—her annoyed expression and quick mouth. Even that little smile she tried so hard to hide.

“Y’all hear me?” Coach barked.

A few of my teammates mumbled “yeahs,” including me. I’d tuned him out because it was always the same shit. Give Stone the ball. Shoot those threes, Stone.

Coach Merrick clapped his hands loud enough to snap everybody back into formation. “Go warm up! This is our house. Our game. Lock in!”

I stood last while everyone piled out of the locker room. The guys hollered, hyping each other up. I always stayed back, needing one last quiet moment to myself. I already knew neither my mom nor dad was out there. It would be nice if one night…just one night, I’d look out and see them smiling and cheering me on.

The cheerleaders were chanting when I jogged through the doors. I joined in the warmups with layup lines, passes, and jumpers. I stretched, avoiding looking out into the bleachers. RJ fucked up a pass to me. I jogged to retrieve the ball, and that’s when I saw her. She stopped the ball with her Pumas that were on their last run. I picked the ball up, and grinned right there in her face. I couldn’t even hide the fact that I was smiling. Of course, Slim didn’t smile back. Her expression was stoic.

Her braids were taken down, and now she had her hair in a ponytail. She had good hair that ended with curls. Thick hair. Shit she tried to hide with that damn durag.

Vani, behind her, sucked his teeth. “Nigga, warm up,” he called out flatly.

I ignored his ass, keeping my eyes on Slim. “You came,” I said, bouncing the ball.

Slim shrugged. “It’s just a game. You know I like the game.”

I nodded once, and before I jogged away, I said, “I’m a show out just ‘cause you here.”

The crowd roared once the whistle blew and the jump ball was thrown in the air. The other team got possession of the ball, but they didn’t keep it for long. Kyle, one of my teammates, snatched a lazy pass out of the air like it was nothing. The second he secured it, he fired it my way. I caught it in a stride. Defense from the other team was a little too slow. One dribble and then a flick of my wrist behind the three-point line.

The ball snapped through the net so clean, it didn’t even touch the rim.

“Threeeee!” the announcer yelled as if he didn’t believe it went in so nicely either. The student section lost their minds.

I didn’t celebrate because this was what I did. My eyes flickered over to Slim, who simply nodded. Next possession, we forced a shot-clock violation. RJ had the ball, and three opponents crowded him. I juked the one trying to hold me, RJ found a way to pass it to me, and before one got on me, I was sending the ball to the net.