Page 32 of Love & Streetball

“Kayla,” I started, my voice flat. “I’m not doing that. I barely want to go to prom. I’m only going because my mama wants me to. We’re going together, but there’s no need for a proposal—especially not skywriting.”

Her perfectly plucked or threaded eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why not? It’s our senior prom! It’s supposed to be special.”

“It is special,” I let her know, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice and failing. “It’s so special I agreed to take you at all. That’s the proposal. The answer is yes. Let’s leave it there.”

RJ coughed, trying to hide a laugh. Kyle pretended to eat his pizza, but I saw the smirk on his lips. Kayla’s smile tightened, and I knew before she left the cafeteria, she would be texting her mom, who would be on the phone with my mama. I refuse to do a proposal, and I was putting my foot down. If they do decide to do one, I wouldn’t be in attendance.

“Don’t be like that, Kane,” her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though she knew damn well everyone at the table could hear her. “You’ve just been off lately since you’ve started hanging with that boy-girl. I heard it from Conley. Heard she punched him for no reason.”

I scoffed with my head thrown back.

“First, she’s a female, and you talking about someone you don’t know makes me want to take back going to prom with your small-minded ass,” I gritted. “Conley’s punk ass started with her first, and Slim just ended it. Same thing she’d do to you if you even try it, but you won’t. You’re all bark and no bite, Kayla.”

“Damn,” RJ breathed out.

“How dare you?” Kayla seethed. “You’re defending her over me? Over me? You’ve known me longer. She’s a nobody, Kane. A violent, aggressive, poor bitch from the projects who is probably using you for money.”

“And what the fuck are you? An annoying bitch who can’t catch a hint,” I shot back.

“I know that’s right, bro,” Kyle smacked.

“Someone finally said it,” RJ added.

Kayla had tears in her eyes and stormed off. She got what she asked for, and I didn’t care what I had to face when I went home after my game this evening.

My parents both yelled and screamed at me as soon as my feet touched the foyer. Mama was more embarrassed by my choice of words to Kayla, but I didn’t care. I felt how I felt and wasn’t switching shit up. She called Scottie a bitch first, but they didn’t care. All they cared about was what I said to Kayla.

Even after all of that, Mama tried to get me to do the proposal Kayla wanted, and I promised her that I would run away. I was dead ass serious too. I wasn’t doing that shit.

The argument circled for what felt like hours, the same points being hammered into the walls because it was going in one ear and out the other. I was over this shit. Now I was in my room, after a hot shower, and the food that had been cooked tonight. After tucking my homework back into my backpack, I lay in bed with my phone. Slim hadn’t texted me, and I hadn’t talked to her since we went and got ice cream.

Me: You sleep?

I turned on my TV and put it on a sports channel for the recaps. Getting underneath my covers, I yawned. My phone vibrated in my hand with a message from Slim.

Slim: Not yet. How was your game?

I smiled, rubbing a hand through my mess of curls. The fact that she even knew I had a game today had a nigga grinning hard. She had a game tomorrow, and I was making it my business to go.

Me: We won. I put up 24.

Slim: Aye! I’ve been working on my threes for tomorrow’s game. I love the shoes you bought me. They’re light. Thank you again.

Me: Go out there and drop those 3s. Show out.

Slim: Will! Are we practicing for the street ball, or are we just gon’ wing it?

Me: We might have to wing it unless we can get everyone together Friday evening or something.

I told myself I’ll play maybe three games with Slim, and when we win, because we will, I’ll give her my portion of the winnings. She wanted this more than I did.

Slim: K. I made an Instagram. Slim_TheHooper

I cackled. Of course, her username would have something that signifies she played ball.

Me: I’m about to follow you. Follow me back.

Slim: Okay.