Levi passed the ball to Pussabo, but the asshole was using all four of his eyes to stare into space instead of waiting for the pass.
“Look alive, Pussy!”
“Sorry,” Pussabo said.
He ran after the ball and started awkwardly dribbling on his way back to the basket. But even right underneath it, without anyone to block him, Pussabo missed.
“Wow …” Elliot nodded in adoration, as if he genuinely meant it. “If you were trying to float like a butterfly or sting like a bee or whatever, you totally nailed it.”
“Fuck you, Elliot,” Pussabo said.
Levi ran after the ball, grabbed it, and started dribbling toward the basket.
Swish.
The game wasn’t fun with only three people.
Five was perfect. Two-on-two with a ref. Levi and Dane were perfectly matched. Each claimed one of the feebs — Pussabo, who couldn’t sink a basket if he had a century to aim, and Elliot, who preferred standing around with hands in his pockets and mouth flapping — then Levi’s brother Corban reffed the foursome.
But Corban had been in a mood for a month or so, and Dane was apparently buried in homework.
“Float like a butterfly?” Levi looked at Elliot. “That’s boxing, not basketball. Idiot.”
Elliot shrugged. “I figured since Pussy is already dickless, I should keep all sports with balls out of my insults.”
“How about I keep my balls out of your mother?” Pussabo asked.
“Gross, dude.” Elliot scrunched his nose. “You put your balls up in my mother? I mean, good for you, getting those little Armenian raisins up in there and everything. I’m not really sure what that does for you, though. Your mom likes it from behind, but she doesn’t have a thing for my balls, and they’re too big to get all up there even if she did.”
Levi laughed.
“Fuck you, Elliot!” Pussabo repeated. Then he added, “And I’m not Armenian!”
Behind Pussabo, Dane nodded at Levi as he walked up the drive.
“What took you so long?” Levi asked.
“The usual. But worse, because physics. What did I miss? Did Pussabo make a basket?” Dane turned around and looked at Pussabo, holding the ball. “Yo, Pussy, you know I love you.”
“I made four.”
“Out of like four hundred,” Elliot added.
“Like twenty, asshole.”
“Whatever, mystery meat.”
“Fuck you, Elliot.” Pussabo aimed and the ball and—
Swish.
“Congratulations.” Dane turned back to Levi. “Mr. Spencer assigned us a packet the size of your ego, and my dad said I couldn’t come over until it was finished, even though it was like five nights’ worth of work. But I was all Yes, sir! Anything you say, sir!”
Levi stood at attention and made the sign: Heil Hitler!
“Totally. But whatever. I mean, he’s a dick about it, but he means well. And if he gets his way, then I get mine, too. Stanford is still close enough for us to hang out whenever, but far enough that my dad doesn’t have to know when I’m here.”
“Living the dream.” Levi walked back to the game with Dane right beside him.
Elliot said, “I’m not sure if I want the guy who thinks he’s God’s gift, or the guy who can’t bother to show up before it’s time to go home. One of you can choose. Just don’t ask Pussabo.”
“I don’t care who I play with,” Pussabo said. “They’ll be lucky. I’m totally feeling my game right now.”
Elliot held out his hands for the ball. Pussabo threw it to him instead of taking another shot. Elliot hurled it at the basket without aim or intention.
Then he said, “Hey Dane, do you think that you’re still going to be nerdy when you’re in college, or will you finally be cool and learn to chill the fuck out? It’ll make your dick bigger. And then chicks will want to get on it.”
“Maybe chicks will want to get on it because I’m driving them to my mansion, and they want to give me head along the way, seeing as how they’re so grateful for all the stuff I just bought them.”
“Dude, you don’t need Stanford for that,” Elliot said.
“Yup,” Levi agreed.
Pussabo shot and scored. “It doesn’t hurt. And besides, Dane has a reason for wanting to go. You know he’s not doing it just because.”
Levi looked at Elliot, hoping he wouldn’t go there, with something like, Yeah, because his mommy went there.
But instead he said, “Let’s play!”
They did, the four of them easily falling into a game that was both fun and familiar.
Not just the rhythm of the ball in play, their words were dribbled and shot as well, rebounded and bounced all around. Insults and banter, born of boys being boys rather than animus.
Levi was the leader on the court, just like he was everywhere else.
Elliot had the most punchlines, but Levi’s were usually sharper.
Pussabo was an optimist, but Levi lived on the sunny side anyway, since circumstances always seemed to smile his way.
Dane was smart and good-looking. People agreed that he was an excellent listener.
And Corban … well, Corban was a pain in the ass.
Swish.
“Nice shot,” Elliot said to Levi as he jogged toward the ball. “Think Corban is going to be pouting about whatever the hell he’s been all pissy about for much longer?”
“I dunno,” Levi said, caring more about guarding Pussabo than anything Corban might or might not be doing.
“I’m just saying that maybe that’s for the best,” Elliot said. “He’s a shitty ref, because he feels sorry for Pussabo all the time. Calls fouls when the problem is really just Pussy sucking. But since you assholes always split us up, that’s a good thing for my game.”
“You know what would be good for my game?” Dane said. “If you—”
A siren screamed in the distance.
Then another, and another, and another.
It sounded like a freight train getting torn from its track.
Dane stopped dribbling. “What the hell?”
“Maybe someone found Pussabo’s giant porn stash, and since no one had seen that much eighties bush since the eighties, and maybe not even then, someone figured that there was a pervert among us and so they called the police. Then the police got there and saw all the semen. They called for backup—”
“Okay, Elliot,” Dane tried.
“No, he’s right,” Levi said. “Pussabo loves eighties bush.”
“I do not like eighties bush. I told you guys, I like Miley Siren.”
Elliot made a face. “Gross. Miley Siren has been used like a car.”
“All pornstars are used like cars!”
“Yeah,” Elliot argued, “but Miley Siren has been used in every state.”
“Yo!” A voice from the porch.
Levi looked over along with everyone else.
“You guys hear the sirens?” Corban asked.
Dane said, “You mean the ones that were just screaming? Yeah, we heard those.”
Then Elliot: “Did anyone just see an echo?”
Levi said, “Did anyone just hear one? That joke probably wants us to get the hell off its lawn.”
“Fuck you.” Elliot punched him on the shoulder.
Levi grinned. Couldn’t help pushing it despite the warning. “The rule of comedy is that jokes get less funny each time you tell them.”
“Guys,” Corban said, stepping down onto the porch.
Levi turned to his twin. “What?”
But Corban didn’t need to answer, because all of them had the Almond Alert installed on their phones, and the symphony of ringing and buzzing and the beats of some Drake bullshit from Pussabo’s phone all screamed in unison.
That something was very wrong.