Shooting Hoops

Chapter 3

As soon as Dad left for work the next morning, I leave the house also, despite being grounded. There's no way I was staying home today, especially when I promised Tylar that I will see her today.

But before I go and see her, I make my way over to Brodie's. If my own Dad won't listen to me, maybe I could get Brodie's Dad to listen.

Brodie's mother answers the door. "Good morning, Mrs. Wheeler."

Mrs. Wheeler doesn't return the greeting. Instead she gives me a stern look. "I'm sorry, Logan, but you won't be able to see Brodie today. He is grounded."

"That's okay, Mrs. Wheeler. I'm not here to see Brodie. I just came here to see your husband. I want to discuss with him about last night."

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Logan, but he is sleeping right now."

"Please. I want to tell him that last night was all a misunderstanding."

"I would wake him, but he doesn't like to be interrupted from his sleep, especially when he has to work later tonight."

"I thought he doesn't work Saturdays."

"He doesn't, but he is making up for missing work last night because of you boys."

She looks at me like this was all of my fault.

"I had nothing to do with yesterday, Mrs. Wheeler. I had no idea Brodie took the car without permission that made your husband think his car was stolen. I'm very sorry for that. I wasn't even supposed to drive yesterday. Brodie drunk so much at the party last night that he had passed out, so I drove him home."

Mrs. Wheeler looks at me, confused. "What do you mean Brodie had been drinking? He had a blood alcohol reading of zero."

Now it was my turn to be confused. "What do you mean it was zero? He was drinking at the party. He passed out."

She shakes her head. "No, he hadn't been drinking. Brodie said he had been exhausted from the game last night."

This wasn't making any sense to me. I don't understand how Brodie could fake being drunk or why he would do it in the first place. How was I going to get anyone to believe me that I'm not lying?

I say goodbye to Mrs. Wheeler and walk away. I hear the front door clicking close behind me. I still don't understand what was going on. Am I missing something that I'm not aware of? Why am I being treated as a liar?

I head home instead of going to Tylar's. I message her to tell her I wasn't feeling well. It was a good thing I did because I found the police officer who had arrested me last night. He was standing at the front door of my house.

He turns to me when he sees me coming up the front lawn.

"Logan Hayes?" he asks.

"Yes, that's me." I stood at the bottom of the stairs of the porch.

"I have some good news for you. The charges have been dropped with stealing the car. You were telling the truth last night about your friend taking his father's car."

I nod with a smirk. "See, I told you I wasn't lying."

"You weren't driving under the influence so you won't be charge for the drink driving. But you will be charge for drinking under age. You won't have to go to court, but you will be expected to pay a thousand dollar fine. Your license will also be suspended for three months."

"A thousand dollars!? I don't have that kind of money." Dad was definitely not going to want to pay it. He will complain how the money could be used for bills,

"Well, I suggest you find a way to pay for it." He hands me an envelope and I take it from him.

Without another word, the police officer steps off the porch and head to his car. I watch him drive away. I should be jumping up and down with excitement about having the changes drop, but I couldn't feel it. Not when I have to figure out how I was going to pay from the fine. I can't expect Dad to pay it. I will have to get a job.

I head inside and set the envelope on the kitchen table. Dad will probably read about the fine when he gets home tonight. I send him a text to let him know what's happening. Hopefully he won't be still mad at me when he gets home.

I was about to go up to my room to grab my basketball and shoot some hoops, which will help me to relieve my frustration, when the doorbell rings. I was surprised to see Tylar standing there.

"Hey, Ty. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I thought that since you weren't feeling, I would come over rather than you coming over to mine," she says.

I smile and peck her lips. "Thanks, babe. I feel better now that you are here. I was going to shoot some hoops. Do you want to play with me?"

"Actually, I thought we could cuddle on the couch and watch a movie."

I wasn't so much interested in watching anything, but I agree to do it.

🏀

I probably should be in bed, but I stayed up until Dad returns home from work at eleven thirty. He had returned a text earlier, telling me he will talk to me about the fine when he gets home. He was exhausted as he walked through the front door, and I doubt the last thing he wanted was to deal with me and my punishment.

I follow him into the kitchen where he sits down at the table, picking up the envelope to read. I stand there patiently waiting for him to say something about it. When he finishes, he puts the paper back inside the envelope.

"Logan, I won't be taking responsibility for paying this fine," he says to me. "I don't have the money to throw away to pay for it. Since you're the one who got yourself into this mess, I suggest you be the one to pay for it. Maybe next time when you attend a party you will think about the consequences first before you decide to illegally drink."

I nod, understanding clearly where Dad was coming from. I got myself into this mess, and I must get myself out of it. "I will do that."

"Good. Now why don't you get some rest. It's late. I will see you in the morning, Logan. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Dad."

I turn away and head out. When I reach the doorway, I turn back to Dad. He had his elbows on the table, rubbing his temples. I could see the stress he was going through. Not with what I put him through yesterday, but his jobs as well. It has never been easy for him to raise me on his own, and I hated my mother for doing this to him. Everything was so easy and less stressful when she was here. I missed the old him when he would come home from the café where he loved his job as a barista. He dreamt of someday running his own coffee shop, but it never happened. I remember when he used to play basketball with me where he had attached a hoop above the garage door in our driveway. Now I can't even get him to rest and hang out with him all because he is worried about money, making sure we still had a roof over our heads. He doesn't need this kind of stress. It's not healthy for him.

"Dad?"

He looks up at me, the tiredness in his eyes. "Yes, Logan?"

"If I can find myself a job, could you please quit one of your jobs? I mean, if I can make enough money to pay the fine, I can also help with the bills. You wouldn't have to work two jobs then."

I knew which job he would give up. He would give up his bartending job. He hated bartending, but he did it for the extra money.

"We will see, Logan."