It’s an early Sunday morning in October. You rush downstairs at 8 o’clock already dressed in your daily attire. A loose-fitting Knicks T-shirt that envelops your torso, and Under Armor gym shorts that barely cover your knobby knees. The air is perfumed with hints of egg and vanilla; your mother is making her famous brioche French toast. Darting into the kitchen, you grab a piece of the velvety bread your mother worked so hard to make. “Hun, did you at least wash your hands first?” She calls out to you.
“Yes, Ma!” You squawk back at her while choking down the breakfast you shoved in your mouth.
While finishing chewing, you force your feet into a pair of Jordans that are a bit worn out. Hand-me-downs, of course. The red trimming on the outside of the sneakers has deepened to more of a burgundy, while the white in the center has become more of an eggshell color. Not the most flattering, but they’re still functional.
You race to the front door and snatch the partially deflated basketball perched on the doormat. Swinging open the door you call out, “See you Mom, love ya!”
“Bye honey, be safe and make good decis-” The door slams shut before she can finish her sentence.
The crisp autumn breeze nips at your spine while leaves in different shades of orange embroider the road and sidewalk. The flame-like leaves crunch just before flattening into the street with every stride you take.
You jog over to the sky-colored colonial house diagonal from your dark brown tudor. Standing in front of the navy door with a basketball of his own is Daniel. He grins at you and nods, causing his short black curls to bounce slightly. You smile back, then start dribbling towards his driveway. He does the same.
Despite being two years younger than him, you stand at the same height as Daniel, making basketball games between the two of you pretty fair. You play a few 1-on-1 games together; he wins three of them while you win two.
Daniel grabs two plastic water bottles from his cooler and throws you one. The chill air no longer nips at your spine, replaced by pearls of sweat dripping down the sides of your back. Daniel takes a swig of his water as you sit beside one another on the edge of his driveway.
“High school’s a lot, man,” he sighs. “I mean, don´t get me wrong, it’s great to be on an actual sports team now…but some of the kids are nasty and the work is a lot harder.”
You nod and don’t really know what else to say except “that sucks.”
He nods. “I miss 7th grade. How’s it been for you?” You look down at your shoes. “That Austin kid still messing with you?”
“Sometimes,” you admit.
“Man, you can´t let him one up you like that. You´ve gotta stand your ground, you´re a strong guy.” You glance back up at him. “And hey, if this kid ever goes too far, let me know and I can mess him up for you.” He joked, but his eyes expressed sincerity. His eyes. You notice how, although his eyes are a dark chestnut color, they also possess faint flecks of green. You quickly look back at your shoes after realizing how weird it is for a boy to gawk at another boy´s eyes. You clear your throat and ask,
“What books do you guys read in English freshman year?”
“Well, right now we´re reading Of Mice and Men,” he responded. Your eyes light up, even though you prefer East of Eden way more.
“That’s a great book!” You exclaim. Daniel scrunches his face.
“Really? It’s kind of dry so far.”
“It picks up…kind of. You’ll like it toward the end.” Daniel shrugs.
“I guess I’ll have to tell you what I think once we finish it.”
“I guess you will.”
There´s a long pause.
“You know you´re like a little brother to me, right? You’re my lil’ bro.” Daniel expressed. You feel a slight twinge in your back. The breeze has returned.
“Yeah no, for sure man. You’re like my…older brother-mentor.” You reply with a forced grin and a wobble in your voice you do your best to disguise.
Daniel smiles and pats you on the back. A fiery orange leaf falls onto his shoulder. He brushes it off and stands up.
“My mom is making turkey sandwiches for lunch if you wanna join.” Daniel inquired. You slowly get to your feet.
“Thanks, man, but I think I’m gonna head home. My mom needs me to help her…with something.” You mutter. Daniel pats you on the back once more.
“Next Sunday, same time, right?” He calls out to you.
“Sounds good!” You yell back, still forcing a smile. With your partially deflated basketball under your left arm and an empty plastic water bottle in your right hand, you begin to trudge back home. The copper leaves aren’t crunching under your shoes anymore. They’ve all been flattened. As you reach your front lawn, you look up at your muddy brown tudor, then at the baby-blue colonial. You sigh.
