Brett
I learned two things Saturday morning.
Marcus could trash-talk better than most of my teammates, and volunteering with twelve kids was somehow more exhausting than a full hockey practice.
“You cheated.”
I stared across the gym at Marcus. “How exactly did I cheat?”
“You’re a college athlete.”
“You challenged me.”
“I didn’t know you were gonna try.”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
Marcus scowled while I held the basketball over his head. Around us, kids were running through the small gym while two other volunteers tried unsuccessfully to convince them this was supposed to be organized recreation.
Marcus jumped for the ball.
I lifted it higher.
“Give it!”
“Say I’m pretty.”
He stopped. “What?”
“You called me ugly Thursday.”
“You’re still ugly.”
“Then I guess I’m k
