I looked back at the hoop above my closet and shifted my already extended arm a little to the right. I rolled the Nerf out to my fingertips and tap-turned the ball until the seam was in line with my knuckles. Then I took the no-look, over-the-shoulder, from-halfway-across-my-bedroom bank shot.
Swish.
I scooped up the ball and plopped back down in front of my notebook.
“Keep up with your Where I Read work this weekend,” Mr. Acevedo had said at CC on Friday. “It’s the only homework you’re getting from me, and I really don’t even consider it homework. It’s going to help us down the road.”
I didn’t keep up with it. Yeah, I read over the weekend. I always read. But I didn’t write down where I did the reading. I saved that part until Sunday night. Mom said I couldn’t watch football or have the Wi-Fi password until I did it.
I grabbed my purple teddy from my bed and popped to my feet. With my bare toes, I gripped the Nerf and flipped it up. I caught it with my left hand and tossed it right back into the air, and then, using the bear’s belly, I hit the ball toward the hoop.
Swish.
“Bang!”
I never missed the purple teddy belly shot.
I scrambled after the ball and then dove back to my notebook.
Basement
Car
Kitchen table
Bed
Hood
“Rip to his feet,” I muttered as I jumped up again. “He sizes up his man. Looks for an opening. He jukes right, crosses to his left, drives down the lane, the running one-hander with his left …
“… Boo-yah!”