Ghost (Track #1)(25)

Besides the hoopers, there were a whole bunch of other people at the court, just hanging out. Girls. Some were the girlfriends of the guys playing, and others wanted to be the girlfriends of the guys playing. And junkies. They’d just be zombied out, roaming around the outside of the court. They knew better than to mess up the game. They’d just walk along the out-of-bounds line like it was a tightrope, waiting for Goose. Goose was the dope man, who also happened to be a pretty good ballplayer. Super flashy, but an all-around nice guy. Well, except for selling drugs. The court was where he served, in more ways than one.

I chilled there for a while, watching Sicko push everybody around until what always happens happened. A fight. As usual. Stupid Sicko pushed the wrong guy. A guy I didn’t know. And that guy pushed Sicko back. And then Pop got into it. And then Big James. Then Big James’s girl. And then some other girl. And then a junkie started howling like a wolf. And then I was out.

By the time I made it home, I only had a little bit of time to kill before Coach picked me up. Just enough time to wash up, or as my mom says, splash some water on my hot spots, throw on some clean clothes, and give myself two spritzes of perfume. It was Ma’s, and it smelled like flowers, but hey, so what.

When Coach showed up, he hit the horn a few times. And when I didn’t come right out, he hit it a few more times.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I said, locking the door. Coach had his window down and was talking to Mr. Jefferson, the neighborhood sweeper. At least that’s what we called him. He basically swept up the street every single day, but it didn’t seem to ever really get clean. There was always glass, or paper, or, I don’t know . . . a dirty couch.

“Wassup, y’all,” I said to Patty, who sat up front, and Lu who was in the back with me. I wondered where Coach put all the junk that was usually in his cab. Probably in the trunk, which was a place I never, ever, ever wanted to see.

“Wassup, man,” Lu said.

“I been around here before,” Patty said, skipping the hello. “I can’t remember when. But I know I been around here.”

“Me too,” Lu said. “Not really these parts, but my pops plays ball sometimes at the court down the street.”

“Oh yeah? I play at that court,” I lied. Man. I was getting smooth with the lies. “Just came from over there.”

Coach shook Mr. Jefferson’s hand, then turned around to me. “Took you long enough,” he tossed over his shoulder. Then he sniffed, and sniffed, and sniffed. “That’s you smelling like flowers?” Coach asked Patty.

“Nope, that’s pretty boy back there,” she said.

“Who, Lu?” Coach adjusted his mirror.

“No, the other one,” Patty said, talking about me. I couldn’t even believe she called me pretty boy. I squeezed my cheeks to crush my smile. And before Coach or Lu could say something slick, Patty added, “I like it. Smells good.”

One more stop before the Chinese food. We left Glass Manor and went to the other side of town. Like, the other, other side. Where the houses have yards in the front and the back. Where there are two or three floors and each kid has their own room. Even if there are like five kids, each one gets their own four walls. And everybody has a car. Or two. And there are driveways to park those cars in. And there are also basketball courts in those driveways, the kind you can move around and adjust to make it low enough to dunk on. No wig shops, no fish markets, no Mr. Charles, which had to suck. And as we pulled up in front of Sunny’s house, a big brick castle with an old rusty car in the driveway, I wondered why Sunny didn’t act like the other people I’d met who lived in this neighborhood. He was . . . cool. A little weird, but cool.

Coach hit the horn. Sunny came right out, tall and awkward. He waved to us, that funny wave he always did.

“Yo, Patty, you should get back here so Sunny can actually get his legs in the car,” Lu suggested. I agreed. It didn’t make sense for Sunny to be cramped up in the back with us. Plus, Sunny had already opened the back door on my side, and I just wasn’t into sitting in the middle.

“Yeah, Patty,” I said. “That makes the most sense.”

“I don’t care what y’all do, just do it quick so we can go,” Coach barked.

Patty turned around and looked us up and down. “Ain’t nobody sitting back there with y’all goons. I might get goon juice on me, and don’t nobody want goon juice on them. What if I can’t get it off me? Then what?”

“Patty!” Lu yelped. Patty turned back around, ignoring him.

“Patty, come on,” I begged.

“Seriously?” Lu whined.

At this point, Sunny had already started stepping in, forcing me to scoot over to the middle. The middle sucks. It’s where babies sit, and I ain’t no baby. Sunny crunched and scrunched his body until he got it all in there. It reminded me of this dude Yogi Laser I read about who holds the record for having the fastest time to cram into a box. Crazy. Sunny’s knees were smashed against Patty’s seat, and he had no place to put his arm, so he had to put it around me. It was all just ridiculous. Once Sunny closed the door, which took three tries, Patty and Coach turned around to look at us.

“Awww, look at y’all. Bonding like brothers,” Coach jabbed.

“Or like clowns!” Patty followed with a hook.