Books, Boys, and Basketball: Senior Year

TRIPPING

I wish Drew getting drunk was the worst thing that happened that night, but it isn't. At around three in the morning I'm awakened by Drew sitting on the edge of my bed and I have to stifle a scream. How he got into the house with no one knowing is beyond me, but here he is, staring at me with pain in his eyes.

Giving him my undivided attention, I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. "What are you doing here, Drew?" I ask.

His eyes lower to my lips, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why he's here. He's told me on many occasions I'm his only equal when it comes to relationships, and a part of me knew he'd turn up on my doorstep eventually.

"I'm not about to do this with you Drew," I sigh.

"Which room is his?" He asks.

"Huh?"

"My dad... which room is his?"

I'm not sure I even want to answer his question, except he's already on his feet, walking through the house looking for his dad. "What the hell?" I groan, going after him. "Drew, you shouldn't be here."

"Why? Am I no longer good enough to be his son?"

He's tripping...

I stop walking and watch as Drew walks through my house. He pushes open the door to our parents' bedroom and takes a step back like he's been shot through the heart. For a long time, he stands there staring at them while they're sleeping.

If our parents find him here, I'll get in trouble. Hoping to avoid such punishment I try to drag him back to my room, but he goes inside our parents' room, and my heart leaps out of my chest.

Hurrying to their room I find him standing at the foot of our parent's bed, staring down at them. He's on one right now, and the source of his current pain is lying in the bed before us.

Grabbing his wrist, I try to pull him from the room but he's stronger than me. "Wake up." His voice booms as he nudges our parents' bed with his foot.

Oh, my God...

"Wake up!" He shouts, startling both our parents awake.

"Drew, what the hell!?" I shout at him.

"Andrew?" His dad groggily wipes the sleep from his eyes.

"Is this what you want? Is this why my mom is crying her eyes out right now? So, you can play daddy to somebody else's kids." Drew flashes.

"Did you let him in here?" My mom asks.

"I didn't realize he wasn't welcome." I reply, thinking quick enough on my feet to turn her question around on her.

Whatever distracts her from asking how he got in the house. If she knew Drew had a habit of climbing in through my bedroom window mine would be nailed shut.

Drew's dad climbs out of bed and puts his robe on. He tries to get Drew out of the room, but he won't budge. He's staring at my mom's stomach like the babies she's carrying is hurting him somehow.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." I warn him.

His dad follows his gaze and after applying more force, he gets him to leave the room. "Have you been drinking?" He asks Drew.

"Maybe," Drew pulls a bottle of Hennessy out of his pocket and takes another swig.

"So, this is your life now, huh?"

Glaring at his dad, he says, "You don't get to judge me when you traded us in to play the house nigga for somebody else."

Grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket, his dad slams him back into a wall and gets in his face. "Watch who you talking to and show me some respect.".