Johnson Ball Hog

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-1-4835-1743-8
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 103 Seiten

In the heat of a game, every second counts. Sabrina finds out that the same rule is applied off the court. She'll stop at nothing to make it to the top; while having to balance her home life.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Johnson, S. D.

Leseproben

Ball Hog Prologue Nothing beats days like this in San Diego! I was feeling on top of the world and at the top of my game. Right on the concrete slab in the middle of the sand, we balled in the sun and warm breeze. Three on three games all day, was how we played. When it was seventy to eighty degrees all summer long, no one had to run and hide in the shade of the palm trees that lined the basketball court. It didn’t get any more perfect than this. We were out there taking folks dignity and their money; good time’s good times! DeMarcus and I were regional all-stars around these parts. He was in the top ten for the boys in the region, and I was in the top for the girls. We both had just finished our junior year of high school, and we had already been starters on the Varsity Squad. We were both ready to break records this upcoming senior year. I lead as the girls top scoring point guard and DeMarcus for power forward. I had to admit that I was ready for some college games in my life. We both had scouts showing up at our games with their notepads and empty promises of fame. I wasn’t a cocky player at all though; I just wasn’t going to have anyone telling me that I was a garbage player. Then, there was Melanie, and there really wasn’t much to say about her game. She was my best friend and DeMarcus’s girlfriend. She was super girly and didn’t even play ball. As a matter of fact, she was a cheerleader for the boys’ varsity team, so not much else to say once you knew that about her. She was a garbage player to say the least. We had been out of school for the summer for all of two weeks, and so far we had managed to spend every day of it on Mission Beach playing basketball. Seagulls floated past us occasionally and in between games, we could watch the boats going in and out of the harbor. Some random knucklehead dudes would typically walk-up on DeMarcus trying to steal him for a pickup game. They usually saw Melanie and me and thought we were the ‘sideline chicks’ out watching some tall, cute, black boy play ball. Then of course, DeMarcus would suggest that he’d be okay playing with two girls. Making it look like, he was the top player in the world and he’d be able to whoop them by himself with just us two little girls as back up. The knuckleheads would usually get mad at his trash talk and fall for the bait. Then before they knew what was going on, they had bet us some money, got schooled on the court, and got their money took. They usually cussed us out at the end of the game or even tried to pull that double or nothing talk. A few times we even got chased off the beach to avoid a beat down. Nevertheless, we split the money three ways and kicked it for the night. On a good afternoon, we walked away with at least fifteen to thirty dollars apiece. You play so many games an afternoon and that money builds up, and I had big plans for mine. I’d always spend half and put half away. It was early in the afternoon, and we had played a few games but didn’t make any real money, but the games were so intense it didn’t matter. When I was on the court, nothing else mattered to me. I played and thought about basketball so much that I even played in my sleep. I was free, and I felt weightless when the ball left my fingertips and splashed into the net. I was in total control and had mad power when I dribbled down the court. I was created to be a point guard and dominate the games I played in. DeMarcus and I played so hard against each other. He didn’t care about me being a female making it rain over him with three pointers. He played defense against me like I was one of the guys. We battled so bad against each other that sometimes we even forgot that Melanie was a part of the games. After she realized she wasn’t, she would go sit in the sand and talk on her cell phone or pull out her nail filer and begin scrubbing away at her nails. She was lame like that, and never put in any real effort to learn the game. “Are you guys ready to go? This is getting boring.” Melanie complained. DeMarcus bumped one more shot off the rim, and I grabbed the ball. “Maybe you should get up and play with us!” I said. “Naw!” DeMarcus said, and he walked over to Melanie helping her stand to her feet. “I have somewhere to go tonight, so I got to get home to shower and get dressed.” “What? Where are you going without me?” Mel asked as we began walking back to DeMarcus’s little beat up Jetta that we smashed all over the city. “It’s this little function at this church. My dad’s friend has a church and on Wednesday nights they have a youth night.” “A youth night? Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted to go to this youth night?” Mel asked, slamming her hands on her hips. “They have like rappers, and games and stuff; I think.” He said totally ignoring Mel. He did that a lot to her; it was so funny to me. That brother just got in the car and started the engine, Mel hopped in the front, and I sat in the back next to his stinking gym bag that he needed to take home and have his momma wash for him. “Church huh? When did you start going to church?” I asked, as he adjusted the rear view, so he could see me teasing him. “Hardly ever with my family but we’ll see what’s up tonight.” “Um excuse me! I asked you, why you didn’t ask me to go to this youth night thing?” Mel asked again getting super frustrated. It made me laugh out loud from the backseat; she was always getting sick off something DeMarcus said, that he did, when he didn’t pay attention to her, and when other chicks tried to holler at him. She was my girl but way superficial like that. I had to admit, that they were cute together though. DeMarcus was tall, like six feet and some inches; he had dark skin, like darker than me, and he dressed like an elementary private school boy. He reminded me of a tall Carlton from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air; he was cute though. He dressed like a total preppy! Then, there was Melanie… She was ‘Ms. Always Gotta Have the Latest Clothes and Shoes’! Her parents had that good money, so she was all about her fashions and make up. Her hair always looked like it just got done at the shop. She was one of those too pretty to be pretty light skinned girls. Light brown eyes and all the boys drooled after her, but she was so dedicated to DeMarcus that she never paid them any mind. She was a lot different from me; I was dark skinned; no makeup and hair always tied back so I could see the basketball. I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with her MAC makeup, and her cute girly hair do’s. Fashion didn’t matter to me either. I was jeans and T-Shirts all day and then basketball shorts or sweats when I was on the court. I didn’t waste my time on superficial things like that. Sometimes my grandmother would tell me that I looked like, Rudy from the Cosby Show. I didn’t think so, but she did and always told me I was cute. She was the only one that ever said anything like that to me. “I don’t think you’d like it Mel.” DeMarcus replied, and they immediately started arguing the whole way to my apartment complex, so he could drop me off. During moments like this is when I tuned out, I wasn’t big on drama. I pulled my mp3 player from my backpack; I always had it with me, and I put my headphones on and turned the volume to the max. I could stay lost in music the same way I stayed lost on the basketball court. We pulled up in front of my place, and they were still arguing. I tried to give them some love and say goodbye, but they stayed consumed in themselves. So I hopped out of the car and then DeMarcus peeled off the curb with screeching tires. They were a hot mess, and sadly enough, a hot mess lived in my apartment too. I lived with my mother and my little sister in North Park, San Diego. Not the greatest spot to live but that’s what my mother could afford with her government checks. We lived right off of El Cajon Blvd; again not the greatest spot to stay. Back in the day this street used to be the hoe stroll as my mother called it, but I guess I never noticed it, honestly I didn’t care. Just like any other time, I hit the front door to find my little sister, Deja, in front of the TV. She was only six years-old going on seven; my mother had her when I was ten. If she wasn’t strapped at my hip, then she was in front of the TV. I did everything for that kid except give birth to her, and to be six; she was okay I guess. She was cute too, dark skinned like me; she had big brown eyes, and kind of looked like me too. She always wanted to have her hair like me, dress like me, and talk like me; it was kind of annoying, but I didn’t mind, for the most part. My mother, on the other hand, never had any real time for us, so whatever it was to keep us out of her hair is what she did. She took up no interest in parenting, let alone maybe showing up at one of my basketball games during the season. The living room was filled with trash, Deja’s toys, and open DVD cases from hours and hours of movie watching. The kitchen stunk because the sink was filled with dishes, and I could hear loud music coming from my mother’s bedroom. That meant it be a few possible things going on here: she had a dude over; she didn’t want to be bothered, or she was getting ready to go out for the night. Since the sun would be going down soon, I knew she would be leaving to meet her crazy friends for happy hour. Sometimes late at night I would hear her come in with a gang of loud talking heifers, and I could smell cigarettes and...