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“Jo! What are you doing?” I shrieked.
He laughed.
“Sorry. What are you doing?” He smirked and sat on the edge of the bed.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I held up my science book.
It was a total lie. I was hiding from being blamed that I’m Dad’s reason for losing a gambling bet. Three weeks ago, Dad beat me so severely that I couldn’t walk for a week. During that time, Jo cared for me and ensured I was safe. He even slept in my bedroom as I cried myself to sleep.
“Boring.” He snatched the book from my hand, tossed it over his shoulder, and it landed on my pillow.
“What the heck, Jo!” I pushed myself onto my knees.
“Come on. Put your shoes on and meet me outside.” He stood up and walked toward the door.
“Jo, I can’t. I have homework.” I moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
He stopped and turned back to face me. “You’re on spring break, Sade. Dad’s been gone for weeks, and Mom’s working. You’re not staying in this room for another minute. You’re coming with me. “
When I didn’t move, he gave me a warning glare. “Sade.”
“Ugh, fine.” I pulled myself off the bed and stomped to my closet. When I reached for my Skechers, he said, “No. Not those.”
I looked over my shoulder at him and he pointed to a pair of Nikes behind the door.
“Those.”
* * *
“Where are we going?” I asked Jo as we rode our bikes through the neighborhood.
“You’ll see,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
I rolled my eyes and kept pedaling.
I took in and enjoyed the fresh smell of cut grass, flowers blooming into bright colors. I looked up to the sky and saw the birds fly with ease. After what seemed like hours, we were in a familiar neighborhood. When I looked to my right, the basketball court came into view.
Jo’s escape.
He was bringing me into his space.
When things got really bad with Dad, Jo dealt with it all while playing basketball. I always wondered how it was helping him. Whenever he came home from the court, he was sweaty and gross—but slept like a baby.
We parked our bikes beside the metal bleachers. He pulled a basketball from his backpack and started dribbling the ball toward the middle of the court.
I picked up his backpack and sat on the bench with it in my lap. Making myself comfortable, I pulled out a bottle of water from his backpack. When I had walked into the kitchen before we left, Jo was stuffing his bag with bottles of water, Gatorade, and goldfish crackers.
“Sade.” I looked up at Jo.
“What?” I asked.
“What are you doing?”
“Um…sitting here,” I said slowly.
He chuckled and shook his head.
“I asked you to come with me so we can play.” He spun the ball on his finger.
