Sasquatch in the Paint by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar Page B

getting a tattoo with him. “Or better yet,” he’d said, “we should get branded. That’s really badass.”
    â€œBranded? As in shoving hot metal against your skin until it fries?”
    Gavin had nodded enthusiastically. “I hear your skin smells like bacon.”
    â€œIsn’t that what they used to do to slaves?”
    Gavin had retorted, “It’s what slaves had done to them. This is a choice.”
    â€œYeah,” Theo had scoffed, “a really dumb choice. Plus, your mom and Grandma would kill you.”
    â€œOnce it’s done, nothing they can do about it.”
    That was Gavin, too. Acted like he didn’t care what anyone thought. Yet Theo noticed he had no brand or tattoo, nor had he had his name shaved into his hair or lines shaved into his eyebrows like he’d also talked about doing. He was mostly bluster.
    Theo dribbled the ball harder, faster. This time he felt ready to face Gavin’s friends: he was taller and knew a few more moves. And he needed the practice. Since Coach Mandrake announced that Theo was going to be the core of the team’s offense, Theo felt like he should be practicing every moment.
    â€œSo you’re on the basketball team now, huh?” Gavin said.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œThey teach you anything useful?”
    â€œGuess we’ll find out,” Theo said, hoping he sounded cool and confident.
    Suddenly Gavin snatched the ball from Theo’s hands and ran ten feet in front of him. His cigarette dangled from his lips while he dribbled. “Guess they didn’t teach you how to hold on to the ball at your white school.”
    â€œIt’s not a white school. In fact, whites are the minority. The principal is Asian.”
    â€œAlways with the facts and stats. It’s not about the number of whites, it’s about the attitude, son. Don’t you get that? Even if it isn’t mostly white, they’re still teaching you to be white.”
    â€œWhat does that even mean?”
    â€œFancy computers and SMART Boards and all that junk is just meant to make you a mindless consumer. Ya gotta stay true to who you are, son.”
    â€œLike you? A gangsta wannabe who’s failing at school and who’s probably going to be stacking boxes at Costco the rest of his life?”
    â€œSee, that right there is white attitude. Nothing wrong with honest hard work.”
    â€œI didn’t say there was. I just said that you don’t have to limit your opportunities just because you’re lazy. All your race crap is an excuse for you to do nothing but lift weights. Try lifting a book once in a while.”
    Gavin frowned and flicked his cigarette in Theo’s direction but not really at him. “You could always talk, little cousin. I’ll give you that.” He started dribbling the ball across the street to the park. “Let’s see how much good talk does you here.”
    Theo followed him across the street, through the park, and to the basketball courts. The park wasn’t as nice as Palisades Park. There were a few brown patches of dirt where there used to be grass; some of the trees looked worn down, like they’d been climbed often and roughly. The basketball courts were also more worn: the pavement had long, jagged cracks, making the surface look like it was divided into continents. The line paint was faded and chipped. The nets sagging from the rims were torn, and one rim had no net.
    A group of four guys, all black, waved at Gavin and called his name. That was another thing that was different: most of the people in the park were black, like the neighborhood. Theo’s park and neighborhood were models of ethnic diversity, with whites, Hispanics, Asians, Indians, Muslims, and even a few Sikh guys in turbans. Sometimes Theo thought the place was like a movie set for some futuristic America where everyone got along. But here, nearly every face was some shade of black. Gavin had once