CHAPTER 8: THE CHOICES WE MAKE

SATURDAY

Around 2:30pm @ the Waylands’ Basketball Court

It was a clear day and there was hardly any wind that could bother anything under the sun. A young man was setting up a tripod for his video camera that was prepared to capture what was about to occur on the hard court. “It’s recording. Who’s gonna shoot for possession?”

“A camera again? Good. It’s gonna be more than a hundred times you’ll be seeing your ass kicked on TV, Mark.” Shane laughed and passed Mark the official game ball for the NBA, a synthetic rubber Spalding.

Mark Wayland had been a neighbor of Shane’s since she entered high school. They had been playing games of 21 and one-on-one when the court was put up two years ago. He always had a thing for video cameras and had been filming documentaries and original scripts as projects for his high school.

“I’m still wondering why I have a basketball court in my backyard and you don’t, and I don’t even play basketball all that much, except when you hang out here.” He spots up behind the 3-point line and aims for the goal. Brick. “Dang. Fuck. Never once. Never just once when I’m up for ball possession. But I did beat you last year, didn’t I? That was sweet.”

Shane got the rebound and dribbled the ball up to the free throw line before positioning herself to start their little session. “Mark. Understand that I had a broken hand that time? I was recovering from the injury so I practically gave the game away.” She let out another laugh. “You suck at basketball. You’re always ‘airmailing’ the ball if you’re not throwing a brick.”