“What kind of dog would you get, Mason Irving?” Red asked.
“A boxer,” I said. “Or a pit bull.”
“Oh, yeah. I love pit bulls.”
“Definitely a rescue dog.”
Red placed a finger on the paper napkin and spun it around on the table. “Definitely a rescue dog.”
We’d stopped at Perky’s on the way home from practice. That’s the coffee shop we go to all the time. Red and I sat at our usual table in the front. Mom and Dana sat at their usual table in the back. Dana’s an assistant principal at another school in my mom’s district. Mom’s been seeing her since the fall.
“What about you?” I asked. “What kind of rescue dog would you get?”
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Red said.
“I like that.”
I’d just finished inhaling a cheesecake brownie. I popped a handful of leftover crumbs into my mouth and checked the barista behind the counter. He had ginormous Batman plugs that made it look like he had holes in his earlobes. They freaked out Red, which was one of the reasons why he had his back to him. The other reason was that he always sat facing the door.
“Practice was sick today,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, Mason Irving. Practice was sick.”
“You sank that free throw and set the tone.” I drummed the table. “Money!”
“You had that steal against Diego.” Red spun the napkin faster. “The play of the day!”
“Who’s your daddy now?”
We both laughed.
“I can’t wait to play in the same backcourt with Diego,” I said.
“Diego Vasquez and Mason Irving are going to be unstoppable.”
“U-N-S-T-O-P-P-A-B-L-E.” I held out my fist.
He gave it a pound.
“You have to be there, Red,” I said.
He hunched his shoulders.
“I’m serious,” I said. “You can’t miss this. You know you want to go.”
He squinched his face and swayed from side to side.
“Everyone wants you there. Diego wants you there. Maya wants you there. I want you there. It’s going to be sick.”
I stopped. I knew better than to press the issue any further.
“You should read this when I’m done,” I said. I held up The Greatest: Muhammad Ali, the book I was reading for choice.
“I like Walter Dean Myers books,” Red said. He relaxed his shoulders. “You should read Fast Sam, Cool Clyde, and Stuff.”
“So do you want a boy dog or a girl dog?”
“A girl dog,” Red said. “Definitely a girl dog.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because boy dogs pee on you!”
I laughed. “No, they don’t!”
“Yes, they do, Mason Irving. Boy puppies lift their legs and pee on everything! Boy puppies lift their legs and pee on fire hydrants. Boy puppies lift their legs and pee on bushes. Boy puppies lift their legs and pee on furniture. Boy puppies lift their legs and pee on people!”
At the exact same moment, Red and I stood up, lifted our legs, and pretended to pee like boy dogs.