here?”
“Good bye, Stephen.”
“How about I give you a ride home?”
“Nope.” She started walking away from The Garden.
“Wait, I’ll walk with you.” Frustrated, he started after her. “You can be incredibly difficult, do you know that?” he said, catching up to her.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, someone to be with?”
“Apparently, I’m trying to be with you.”
Reye lifted an eyebrow, pretending indifference, but warmed by his attention.
“Well, come on if you’re coming,” she said, stepping around him.
Stephen grabbed her book bag from her shoulder.
They walked for a while in silence until he spoke.
“It wasn’t me that said those things about you, you know?”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need the hassles, and you are who you hang out with, right?”
“I don’t hang out with him,” he said, striving not to get angry.
“So you say.”
They walked about two blocks through Reye’s neigh borhood. Funky, colorful homes owned by young fami lies mixed with the old-fashioned neatly kept homes of its senior citizens. Homes here boasted color, swings and toys in the yard, neatly trimmed flower beds, yard art, all characteristic of this part of town, where homes were reflections of the owner’s personality. The neighborhood was built before deed restrictions and home owner’s asso ciations that traded individual freedom and personality for uniformity and order.
They turned at the next corner and Stephen spotted Reye’s truck. It sat next to a small brick house painted grey, trimmed in white with a very red front door. Plantation shutters covered the windows and the yard was neatly trimmed with flowerbeds holding a profusion of yellow, blue, and pink flowers.
“Nice house,” Stephen said, looking at the huge tree sitting in the middle of the yard, surrounded by flowers.
“It’s home,” Reye said, walking down the sidewalk leading to the front door. “My dad preached financial freedom to us beginning when I was in diapers. Save, own your own home, yadda, yadda, yadda, be self-sufficient, take care of what belongs to you. He purchased a fixer- upper for each of us and taught us how to do the fixing up. If my brothers could do something, I had to learn to do it, too.” Reye reached the front door and took her book bag from Stephen. She gave him her food order to hold so that she could search for her key. Finding it, she unlocked the door and pushed it open enough for her to drop her book bag on the floor inside. She reached to take her meal from Stephen’s hands. “Thanks for walking me home. ”
“You’re welcome.” He moved his hand holding her food out of her reach and looked into her eyes. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you, Reye. Hang out with me again?”
“Last time I’ll have to say it, then. No.”
“Bye,” he said tersely, handing her food over to her.
Chapter 4
Another Saturday night found Reye at home alone watching a movie she’d rented. Her cell phone rang. It was Sam, calling to remind her of the game tomorrow. As if she could forget it, her team would play Stephen’s for the first time. Surprise. He’d worn his jersey that day at The Garden, the last time she’d seen him. The Wizards logo was clearly displayed on the front of he and Henri’s shirts.
“Hey, don’t forget the game tomorrow. I need you to play forward for the whole game. I’ve done some scouting, and I think you can beat at least one of their defenders.”
Sam took this soccer business way too seriously. Scouting an intramural game was taking things a bit far, as far as she was concerned. “Sure, no worries, I’ll be there.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Sam,” she said, “I know you’ve dated girls of other races before. What was that like?”
“That was random, why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious.”
“I don’t date girls because of their color, and women are basically the same, give or take some cultural differ ences. You know how you women can
“Good bye, Stephen.”
“How about I give you a ride home?”
“Nope.” She started walking away from The Garden.
“Wait, I’ll walk with you.” Frustrated, he started after her. “You can be incredibly difficult, do you know that?” he said, catching up to her.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, someone to be with?”
“Apparently, I’m trying to be with you.”
Reye lifted an eyebrow, pretending indifference, but warmed by his attention.
“Well, come on if you’re coming,” she said, stepping around him.
Stephen grabbed her book bag from her shoulder.
They walked for a while in silence until he spoke.
“It wasn’t me that said those things about you, you know?”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need the hassles, and you are who you hang out with, right?”
“I don’t hang out with him,” he said, striving not to get angry.
“So you say.”
They walked about two blocks through Reye’s neigh borhood. Funky, colorful homes owned by young fami lies mixed with the old-fashioned neatly kept homes of its senior citizens. Homes here boasted color, swings and toys in the yard, neatly trimmed flower beds, yard art, all characteristic of this part of town, where homes were reflections of the owner’s personality. The neighborhood was built before deed restrictions and home owner’s asso ciations that traded individual freedom and personality for uniformity and order.
They turned at the next corner and Stephen spotted Reye’s truck. It sat next to a small brick house painted grey, trimmed in white with a very red front door. Plantation shutters covered the windows and the yard was neatly trimmed with flowerbeds holding a profusion of yellow, blue, and pink flowers.
“Nice house,” Stephen said, looking at the huge tree sitting in the middle of the yard, surrounded by flowers.
“It’s home,” Reye said, walking down the sidewalk leading to the front door. “My dad preached financial freedom to us beginning when I was in diapers. Save, own your own home, yadda, yadda, yadda, be self-sufficient, take care of what belongs to you. He purchased a fixer- upper for each of us and taught us how to do the fixing up. If my brothers could do something, I had to learn to do it, too.” Reye reached the front door and took her book bag from Stephen. She gave him her food order to hold so that she could search for her key. Finding it, she unlocked the door and pushed it open enough for her to drop her book bag on the floor inside. She reached to take her meal from Stephen’s hands. “Thanks for walking me home. ”
“You’re welcome.” He moved his hand holding her food out of her reach and looked into her eyes. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you, Reye. Hang out with me again?”
“Last time I’ll have to say it, then. No.”
“Bye,” he said tersely, handing her food over to her.
Chapter 4
Another Saturday night found Reye at home alone watching a movie she’d rented. Her cell phone rang. It was Sam, calling to remind her of the game tomorrow. As if she could forget it, her team would play Stephen’s for the first time. Surprise. He’d worn his jersey that day at The Garden, the last time she’d seen him. The Wizards logo was clearly displayed on the front of he and Henri’s shirts.
“Hey, don’t forget the game tomorrow. I need you to play forward for the whole game. I’ve done some scouting, and I think you can beat at least one of their defenders.”
Sam took this soccer business way too seriously. Scouting an intramural game was taking things a bit far, as far as she was concerned. “Sure, no worries, I’ll be there.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Sam,” she said, “I know you’ve dated girls of other races before. What was that like?”
“That was random, why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious.”
“I don’t date girls because of their color, and women are basically the same, give or take some cultural differ ences. You know how you women can
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