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"Hey, ma," I said to my mother who was sitting on the black leather couch watching tv.
"Hey, honey. How was the first day back? You didn't get into any trouble did you?"
"Nah. It was straight," I said as I sat my black jansport backpack down on the floor and went into the kitchen for something to drink.
I wouldn't dare tell my mom that I was purposely late to some of my classes today.
"Coach Davis called and told me that you came to early try outs. How did that go?" she called into the kitchen after me.
"It was okay. I'm on the team. He offered me a starting spot, but I don't think Imma take it."
I fixed me a cup of apple juice and returned to the living room with my mom.
"Why not?" she asked, a frown was plastered on her light brown face.
"I just don't want to. You know I didn't want to join the team in the first place."
"Malik, think about it. This could be such a huge opportunity for you. Think about the college scouts that will be watching when the season starts. You could get recruited to a nice college and have everything paid for."
"But ma, who said I wanted to go to college anyways?" I asked. I could already tell where this conversation was about to lead.
"Excuse me? Since when do you not wanna go to college?"
"Since dad...I need to get a job so I can help you pay for things," I explained. I knew she wasn't going for it.
"Malik, that shouldn't be any of your concern. I'm working. Your dad had a good bit of money saved up on his life insurance policy, so we're set for a while."
"But that money won't last forever, ma."
"We'll worry about that when the time comes, Malik. Right now you need to focus on staying out of trouble, keeping your grades up so you can stay on the team and get into a good college."
"Why does everyone act like they're so concerned about me staying out of trouble?" I asked with an attitude. "That's all I been hearing all day."
"Because we both know ever since your dad was killed, you've been acting out. Showing up late to class, skipping altogether. Missing school. You've been hanging with the wrong crowd—those boys from across town. They call themselves in a gang. Nothing but trouble."
"Yea, aight," I said, not even wanting to hear anymore.
"See look at you. Your attitude has been getting out of control. You have a quick temper. Everything makes you mad."
"I said aight!" I yelled as I stormed up the stairs to my room. I was done having this conversation with her.
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