Page 2 of Kickoff

“You ask a lot of questions. How old is your brother?”

“He’s my half-brother, and he’s seventeen. We’re not super close. He’s into music and hates everyone. His mom died when he was little, and he’s still angry about it. Dad says he’ll learn to live with it eventually. Not sure therapy helps him, though. He wants to move out and be an adult and record an album.”

“Oh. My brother’s name is Craig. He’s my best friend…most of the time. He plays football with me. He’ll be in seventh grade too. You’ll meet him.”

Her eyes rounded. “You guys are twins? Cool.”

I shook my head. “Nah. We were born ten months apart. People always assume we’re twins. I skipped grade four, so we’re in the same grade now.” I sighed. “My parents treat me like a baby even though we have the same birth year. Mom sometimes says we were twins who chose not to share the womb at the same time. Anyway, it’s not that interesting.”

“I think it is. It’s like you’re twins but not twins twins. It’s weird, but it’s still cool.”

An idea popped up in my head. “Wanna play?” Maybe I could teach her the game, and she’d become decent enough to fill in when Craig was busy. It wasn’t too far-fetched an idea. Anyway, I was out of options and tired of playing by myself. It became boring after a while. I could use a friend.

“Sure. You better bring your A-game, or you’ll lose,” she said, assurance clear in her tone. She tipped her chin up and adjusted her white T-shirt and pink shorts before getting into position before me. “I’m not joking about basketball.”

I watched her every move, impressed she knew all about the game. None of the girls at school loved playing ball. They always complained in gym class when we teamed up for basketball or soccer.

“You know the rules?” I asked, just to make sure. My heart was beating faster, excited at the idea I had someone to play with. For real.

“My dad and my brother. They taught me the game. And I’m pretty good at it. Our love for basketball is one of the things my brother and I connect over.”

I blinked as she stared at me with her game face on. “Wow.” I gawked at her, not sure what to say. She wasn’t a boy, but she was my age, and she liked to play ball. My new neighbor wasn’t exactly the friend I had wished for, but I could work with that.

Melinda crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her chin in defiance. “So? Are we playing, or are you gonna stare at me all afternoon? I can’t wait to beat you.”

She had attitude and confidence, and they reminded me of myself. Maybe we would get along fine, she and I.

My lips curled into a large smile, and I snapped out of my Melinda-trance state. “Yes. Let’s play. I’m Mason, by the way. Mason Pierce. Ready?”

She unfolded her arms, bent at the knees, and leaned forward, seriousness painting her face. “Ready.” She nodded. Once. And I thought I fell in love at that moment.

We played for the rest of the afternoon. Melinda was good—not as good as I was—but she was a nice-enough opponent. She knew how to dribble, and I couldn’t look away when she controlled the ball, my gaze following each movement of her tanned legs.

Her hair swept her shoulders. Each time she got too close, the smell of her orange blossom shampoo filled my nose, and butterflies took off in my stomach when her bare skin rubbed against mine.

Foreign sensations invaded me, and I sorta enjoyed the excitement they brought. I had never noticed that Lee or any of my friends smelled good, so maybe it was a girl thing. I didn’t hate it.

Perhaps having a girl-neighbor wouldn’t be so bad after all.

We lost ourselves in the game, pausing only to drink water from the garden hose attached to the side of the garage or retie our shoelaces.

Melinda’s cheeks were red from exertion, and it looked good on her.

I could tell she too liked basketball from the stars shining in her eyes and the upward curve of her lips when she scored. I smiled whenever she did because she looked happy—and proud of herself.

“I have an idea,” Melinda said after a while. “Let’s play H.O.R.S.E. The winner gets to decide their prize.”

I frowned. “Like what?”

She twisted her lips, thinking. “Whatever. Winner’s choice.”

“Anything off limits?” I was already thinking about what I’d ask for if I won.

She shrugged. “Nah. Unless it’s weird.”

“Okay, then. Get ready to lose.”

The challenge seemed to spark a newfound confidence in her because her eyes turned to slits and her game face returned. “We’ll see about that.”