Bittersweet Basil

Part 1

May 15th 2018

Buzzt buzzt

Text from Shiro:

Hey Keith. Just making sure you remember we're going job hunting after school tomorrow. Meet me in the gym.

Lance:

Yeah sounds good. I actually remembered this time :)

May 16th 2018

"Aye, I'm open." Lance was in the gym, where the guys would meet after school to play some basketball. He wasn't playing. Don't get it wrong, Lance got some game, but he don't play with these guys here. He prefers his uphill neighborhood hoop. Yeah, it had chains for a net and a concrete ground, and a trashy backboard, but at least no one bothered him there.

But, for Lance, watching the guys play was holding your breath underwater until black dots started to show up in the edges of your vision, and then coming up for an enormous breath of air. He loved watching them hustle and throw threes, twist into reverses, loved hearing the booming of the basketball on the hard wood gymnasium floor, and their sneakers squeaking angrily.

Lance made his way across the gym and to the little area next to the boys basketball team's' locker room. From there he watched the guys play.

Dribble dribble dribble

Sharp pass to the top of the key, and another quick pass to the corner. A semi tall pale skinned boy was wide open for a three.

He took a side step to position himself. Spun the ball in his hand so that his long fingers gently rested on the black creases. His head tilted up so that the hoop eased into his field of vision. When he inhaled, Lance felt it too. And he released, jumped lightly, floated, as Lance watched the ball kiss his smooth fingers goodbye.

And he swishes it. So smooth that you had to listen real close if you wanted to hear the ball and net make the sound.

"Damn Keith, getting all up in this."

"HEY!" A mildly deep voice shouted as someone grabbed Lance from behind and hoisted him up. A surprised swoosh sound escaped past his lips when his muscles flexed as he tried to fight off his attacker. The smell of his cologne, and the fact that his knuckles dug into his hair signaled to him that it was Shiro, his mentor.

"Hey Shiro, you're late. I've been here since 2:40." Lance announced as he punched Shiro in the side of his arm.

"It's 2:41. Stop being so dramatic." Shiro casually put his arm over Lance's shoulders and ushered him towards the doors that led to the teacher parking lot.

"Alright, so you wanna stay in town right? So you could easily take the bus?" He took his arm back to unlock the car. Shiro's jeep was white, and boxy, not like the kind young people drive in the movies. And it was a bit old, so Shiro always had to press the unlock button a few times before the car actually unlocked.

"Yeah. I was thinking of hitting CVS, the Y, maybe Trader Joe's, but we're definitely not going to Roche Bros or Sudbury. I heard working there is terrible." Lance always waited till he was in the car to throw his eighteen pound backpack into the back. Shiro always hated that. 1) Cause he was sitting right next to him and 2) he's always reminding Lance that he has expensive school shit in there like his computer. But Lance says right back that the fall is cushioned with the twenty-five sweaters Shiro clutters in the back.

"Nah, I was thinking of getting you a restaurant job. They'll feed you after you work." Shiro jerked the key in the ignition, and as soon as the car burped to life Lance hit the radio button. Shiro always kept it on the 2000s throwback station, just for Lance. He liked to reminisce in those old days where people didn't hit that whip and dab. Hey, this is all fun and shit, if you can dance like that.