𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 | A New Edition Story.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄︰Afraid of Opportunity.

ORCHARD PARK PROJECTS.
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Boston, Massachusetts \ 1979.

It'd be pitch black if it weren't for the amber tinted street lights that kept everyone visible. Six thirty-five was the time on the clock once I left my home and entered OP but as I checked my neon blue Fossil watch, it was now seven on the dot.

I wiped the salty sweat that dripped from my head to my neck with the palm of my hand, roughly wiping it onto my dark blue boot-cut jeans. Summer was right down the street and I honestly couldn't wait despite how sweaty it made the most.

As I leaned against the metal cage with my arms crossed, I nodded my head as I listened to the funky beat and lyrics from someone's boombox that was no more than two feet away from me. I pondered as I wondered who it was that was blessing that beat.

Just a few years ago is when the genre first hit the scene. I remember vividly as I watched my television set and the word HipHop plastered across it with men playing on records and making scratchy noises about with them.

Ever since then, it's been taking this itty bitty world by storm making Disco and Doowop slowly departure from popularity.

My music enjoyment was interrupted once I saw the guy on the court running with the basketball in his hand towards the net. "AYE! tell ya boy stop traveling, Will!"

I watched as one of Will's friends steadily ran with the ball in his grasp. He shot the ball and I mentally prayed to Black Jesus that he missed.

The ball bounced twice on the rim before falling off and I rejoiced, "That's what you get! You can't make it to the NBA doing that shit!"

"Shut 'yo friend up before this ball make contact to her head!" Will's friend, PJ, yelled. I shot him the bird as I laughed.

It was now Mike's ball now—he stole the ball, ducking PJ as he tried to hit the ball from his head, and shot from the center of the court as the ball made a satisfying swoosh sound into the net.

"And that's game." I clapped and boasted in Will's face.

Mike won against two grown men, twenty-to-ten.

"Now hand me the Andrew Jackson." I hold my hand out, waiting for Will to give me the twenty dollars he bet that Mike wouldn't win.

"I don't even know why I bet that.. here!"

He pulled out two crumbled ten dollar bills from of his pocket and handed them to me. "I don't know why either, you knew you couldn't handle Biv." I took the money.

I cheese, revealing my lavender colored braces, "Sucka." I voiced before I ran over to Mike who was wiping sweat from his forehead.

I handed him the half drunken water bottle I held onto as he played.

He took it, breathlessly. "You drank damn near the whole thing, Peaches."

He drank from the bottle profusely with no breaks to breathe. Once he finished the bottle he looked at me before wiping the water from his mouth and chin.