The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Ten

       “Yeah, I love you too!” I called behind me, leaving the house. My mom jetting off to L.A. was nothing new. When I was younger, she practically lived on a plane—always flying between Boston, New York, and Los Angeles. Sometimes I went with her, but, as I got older, she trusted me more and more to deal with a few days without her. It was hard at times, but I never showed it.

       After passing my driveway, I allowed my feet to carry me to the next location I had set in my mind. There was something about the serenity of morning that appealed to me. Between the silence and hint of dew-soaked grass, everything seemed at peace.

       The short journey didn’t take long, and my feet eventually stopped just beyond the perimeter of my destination. I yawned as my eyes evaluated the place I been to only once before. The small playground and field captured my awareness for a brief moment, before I directed my attention to the place I had yearned to see again: the basketball court.

       It was the same sight as I remembered, nothing altered in the slightest. The hoops were still high, and the court looked to be unchanged as well. I began to walk towards it, when I noticed a figure dribbling a basketball much like I had seen the previous time.

       “Dylan?” I called out, causing the person to pause their actions.

       “Stalk much?” he joked, approaching me as I continued advancing towards him.

       “Actually, stalking isn’t something I tend to do,” I shrugged.

       “Why are you up so early?” he inquired.

       “I could ask you the same question,” I countered, very confused as to why anyone besides me would be up this insane hour. 

       “I like the quiet atmosphere—it lets me think,” he explained. “And your reason?”

       “Exploration, stalking this kid named Dylan, and the need to also take in silence,” I said with a smirk.

       “I knew you were stalking me!” he said, pointing a finger at me accusingly.

       “So, you’re just playing basketball?” I asked casually.

       “Yeah, just screwing around. Would you be into playing a game of one-on-one?” he offered.

       “I don’t play basketball,” I turned down, uttering the biggest lie I had told to anyone thus far. It was comical, realy, that I had even been able to allow the words to flow through my mouth with such ease.

       He eyed me suspiciously, and then shrugged. “Would you turn down going to breakfast with me?”

       “It’s six-thirty, where the hell would we get breakfast?” I questioned, allowing a swear to slip. It was early, so I wasn’t in the best frame of mind.

       “I’ll show you,” he said, beginning to walk away from where we were standing. His feat seemed strange, until I realized he was going over to his truck. I ran up along side him, and got into the passenger’s seat as he climbed into the driver’s. He slid the key into the ignition, and off we were.

       “So, Liz, tell me something about yourself,” he said, once we had exited our small neighborhood.

       I hesitated for a moment, considering that sports would normally make their way into a definition about myself, though in this case, couldn’t. “I’m allergic to kiwis,” I said, deciding that it was a safe enough topic to discuss.

       “Kiwis? Like, that green fruit with the brown thing around it?”

       “Exactly like that,” I laughed at his description.