Basketball is Not Life

Chapter Three

After six in the morning, I could hear the dreaded sound of dribbling from my bedroom window. It was my last weekend before the school year started. I wanted to be able to sleep in. I throw the covers away from me and get up for the day. Finding a pair of shorts and a tank top to wear.

As soon as I open the door, I am attacked by Spartan. He pushes me over. I will have to be on guard every second with him around. "Hey, boy."

His butt wiggles, and I wonder if Parker would mind me taking him for a walk, the dog obviously had enough energy for one.

Parker was onto sprints by the time I stepped out the back sliding door. Ladders. Touch one line and go back to the end of the court; he would touch every significant line on the court by the end of it. Who in their right mind did this drill willingly.

I stand on the wooden deck and watch as he does two more full-court ones and stops on the last line. His body is heaving, his hands on his knees. I see the muscles wrapped around his torso, and I wonder if he has any fat on his body. He looks over at me.

"Ladders." I nod at the court, "I hear they are amazingly fun." I called out to him.

He grimaces, standing up and breathing in again.

"Early riser?" He responds, still out of breath.

"No. Someone's dribbling woke me." I paused, letting him catch his breath some more. "Would you mind if I take Spartan for a walk? I wanted to check the campus out." I babbled on, wondering if he is still upset with my remarks from the night before.

"Give me a few minutes, and I can go with you." His breathing was evening out more. Something in my response makes him pause.

"It is just..."

"You don't want me to come with you?" He asked, his eyebrows raised, shock clearly on his face.

"It is not you. Really."

"Right..." He grabbed a white towel with a Nike swoosh on it and wiped his face off with it. "I

don't think you can handle Spartan."

"Really? You don't think I can handle a dog on a leash?"

He shakes his head at me. "I did not say that. I said I do not think you can handle Spartan on a leash. He is all bull."

"How about..." I walk down off the deck and onto the basketball court. "If I make this shot, I can take him with me."

He is somber now, his eyebrows arching. "Deal. You make this three. You can take Spartan for a walk."

I hold my hands out and clap for him to throw the ball at me. After I catch the ball, I kick my flip flops off to the side of the court. He watches with amusement, and then I bend my knees and release the ball; it swishes right through the net. My follow-through was there, just not as obnoxious as his.

  "I think I saw a leash by the front door," I call out over my shoulder, having him watch as I head toward the house. Before leaving, I run upstairs and throw on a pair of my Sperry tennis shoes, just in case Spartan is as bad as Parker made him out to be on walks.

I am heading down the front sidewalk when the front door opens and closes. Parker is right behind me. He has changed shorts and thrown on a shirt; it was weird seeing his torso covered up. He sees me watching him, and he throws his hands up. "I said you could take Spartan for a walk. I did not say I would not be supervising you."

  "Ahh, you are one of those people as well." Spartan was already tugging, using his front legs to give him more power. He seriously was a bull. Both of my hands were on the leash, and I was doing everything in my power not to let the dog go.