Page 42 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

I snorted. This guy did not look like a basketball player, but Dad just shushed me and made me watch.

Several times I lost track of the ball. Larry Bird would pass it, but it wouldn’t go where you thought it was going, and somehow it always wound up in the hands of one of his teammates.

The longer I watched, the more impressed I became. He tripped people up just by switching directions. He could shoot and pass and dribble better than any of the guys I’ve seen in the little bits of games that I’d watched with dad.

It almost made me want to get off the couch and go out to the goal Dad had installed in the driveway when I turned five. He said it was for me, but when I showed little interest, he started using it himself.

“Gotta keep in shape some way,” he’d say after bending over, out of breath from chasing after a ball that bounced awkwardly off the rim.

Oscar slides in front of me with our concessions, pulling me out of the daydream.

I hadn’t thought about that day in a long time, but seeing Cameron play reminds me of the clips I saw on Dad’s phone.

Maybe I should invite Dad to watch him play. Would he be okay with that? But that would bring up a myriad of questions I don’t know if I’m ready to answer.

Dad would be suspicious of my sudden interest in a sport I’ve never enjoyed before and would definitely want to know about my relationship with Cameron.

But watching Dad watch Cameron and his team play would be fun.

I’m mulling over the thought when Allyson’s nasally voice comes over the loudspeaker.

“Halftime is almost over. Who’s excited to get back to the action?!”

The stands are starting to fill back up, and a cheer runs through the crowd. I glance at Oscar, and he’s scowling. Clearly, Cameron’s hatred of Allyson is shared by his best friend. He pulls his phone out and taps on it furiously until his expression relaxes and his easy grin is back.

He takes a selfie, then pulls me over to take another one.

He must be texting Mia.

I throw up a peace sign, and Oscar laughs. “I’m sending that one to both of them.”

He means Cameron and Mia, I’m guessing.

“The cheerleaders have something special planned for tonight’s halftime entertainment. Two contests,” Allyson continues with her announcement.

I return my attention to what’s happening on the court. Several people are lined up at half-court, and Lindsay is holding a basketball in each hand. Two other cheerleaders are waiting by the basket.

“This will be a half-court shot contest. The first contestant to make a half-court shot will win one hundred dollars!” She squeals the last bit, and the crowd cheers.

“Each person will take one shot and then move to the back of the line. We’ll do this until someone makes it,” she explains.

Everyone oohs and ahhs as shots hit the rim or the backboard and bounce off. The cheerleaders chase the rogue balls. Laughter scatters through the crowd as one contestant heaves a granny shot and doesn’t even make it halfway there.

He was playing to the crowd, his smirk telling as he gets back in line.

Finally, someone makes it, and the gym goes wild. I can’t help but cheering along.

I calm down quickly, though. A feeling of dread prickles through me.

Allyson presents the hundred dollars to the winner and then smirks, looking out into the crowd. Her gaze finds me in an instant, and that prickle turns into a full-blown panic attack.

I take several deep breaths, preparing myself for what’s next.

“The next contest is something new. It’s called Where’s Balldo”

Chuckles run through the crowd at the pun.

“The contestants will be blindfolded and spun around in the middle of the court until they’re disoriented. Then they’ll have to wander around and find the basketball that will be placed somewhere on the court. The student who finds the ball the fastest wins!”

---