“My shot was on today,” I said.
“Four for five from the floor, Mason Irving,” Red said, rotating his finger around the cup holder in the middle armrest. “A jumper from the corner, a jumper from the elbow, a layup, and a layup.”
We were in the backseat of my mom’s car. I was on the driver’s side, Red the passenger’s side. Like we always sat. Heading home from ball, we’d stopped at Perky’s—the overpriced coffee shop Mom always complains about, but goes to anyway—and while she dipped inside, we waited in the car.
“Did you see that crossover I had?” I asked.
“That was awesome!”
“I looked like Iverson.” I waved my hands back and forth in front of my knees like I was dribbling. “That kid I blew by is still looking for his tighty-whities.”
Red laughed. “Your crossover’s as good as Takara Eid’s.”
I gave him a look. “Why’d you bring her up?”
“Takara Eid’s on Clifton United, Mason Irving.”
I let out a puff. Through the storefront windows, I could see Mom standing in front of the glass counter with all the muffins and doughnuts. Mom almost never went to Perky’s in the evening, but she said she needed coffee tonight if she had any hopes of finishing the paperwork she wanted to get out of the way before Thanksgiving weekend.
“When was the last time you had coffee?” I asked.
“I don’t like coffee,” Red said. “Do you?”
“Only with tons of sugar.” I’d taken off my sneakers and socks when we got in the car, and with my bare toes, I opened and closed the air vents. “Whenever I drink it, my mom always says, ‘Have some coffee with your sugar.’”
“Have some coffee with your sugar,” Red said. “That’s a good one, Mason Irving.”
Inside, Mom was talking to Dana. Dana was the other reason we’d stop at Perky’s. She was an assistant principal at a different school in my mom’s district. She liked to bring her laptop and work at the back tables at Perky’s. She called it her second office. Dana and Mom had been hanging out a lot these past few weeks.
“Did you see my touch pass to Chris?” I said. “And what about that dime to Maya to start the second half?”
“What about that steal you had when you knocked the ball off that kid’s leg?”
“Clifton United’s defense was suffocating!” I pounded the armrest. “Suffocating. They couldn’t even get the ball in.” I faced Red. “Coach Acevedo’s definitely going to play me more, right, Red?”
“Definitely, Mason Irving.”
Yeah, Coach Acevedo had to play me more. He had to.