The Girl and the Player

My older brother, Kane, and I lounged in the living room, surrounded by our suitcases, eagerly awaiting our parents’ announcement. They were huddled together in the kitchen, deep in discussion about our next adventure. Our dad, Malka Smith, had been assigned a special task that required us to uproot and move to Miami. Being a military family, relocation was a familiar part of our lives.

“KIDs!!!!”

“We’re coming, Mom,” replied Kane. “Come on, sis, let’s go meet them and discover our new home.”

“Sure, but I can already tell this place is going to be unlike any other,” I said, my sarcasm adding a touch of humor. With my dad’s frequent transfers, our homes tended to change quite often.

We loaded our belongings into the car, ready to embark on our journey. Upon arriving at the airport, thoughts of leaving our beloved Nigeria, our birthplace, weighed heavily on my mind. Stepping off the plane, a waiting taxi whisked us away to our grandpa’s place, who, like my dad, was also a retired military veteran. As we approached Miami, gazing out of the car window, both Kane and I were awestruck by the towering buildings and bustling streets. Our country’s architecture couldn’t compare, and we were immediately captivated. The city seemed to have an abundance of basketball courts—a sight that delighted me.

Ah, I forgot to mention my passion for basketball. I’ve been playing the sport since the third grade and now find myself in eleventh grade. Blame it on my admiration for Kobe Bryant. Meeting him in person was always a dream of mine, but his tragic passing, along with his daughter and other NBA coaches, pushed me to continue playing in his honor.

Speaking of basketball, the players we saw in Miami showcased incredible skills, pulling off insane slam dunks while others engaged in friendly wagers over who would score the most points. People proudly sported various team T-shirts, representing their favorite NBA teams like the Lakers, Spurs, Trailblazers, Huskies, and countless others.

“It seems like basketball is a beloved sport in this state,” I remarked, impressed by the passion displayed, especially among the African-American community—much like my own family. Oh, I forgot to mention that my grandpa grew up here, which explained our move to Miami so my dad could continue his military service. But before I could delve into my thoughts, we arrived at our final destination.

“WE’RE HERE!!!” Dad exclaimed with relief.

“And guess what, kids...” Mom interjected, a mischievous smirk on her face.

“What?” we chimed in unison. It’s funny how my brother and I are so alike, often mistaken for twins, even though he’s in his second year of university, having transferred due to our dad’s relocation. It’s cool having a brother in college, especially one who’s a basketball player and earned a sports scholarship to the University of Toronto.

“There’s a basketball court here, so you guys can play your favorite sport anytime you want.”

We exchanged delighted glances, beaming with excitement. We both shared a love for basketball since childhood, although I must admit I’ve become quite the competitor. Nonetheless, Kane’s upcoming return to school at the University of Toronto meant uncertain playing times.

As soon as we stepped out of the taxi, Kane tugged my arm, exclaiming, “Let’s go shoot some hoops, man.” Did I mention he adores basketball? He’s memorized every shot Jordan made from his NBA debut until retirement, and people call me the freak!

“Not before I school you, little girl,” I retorted with a smirk.

“Bring it on!” he responded, and we raced off like twelve-year-olds chasing the ice cream truck.

“Do you think those two will be alright?” Dad raised an eyebrow, glancing at Mom.

“They’ll be fine,” Mom assured him, “they’ll probably meet some friends their age on the court. No need to worry.”

Our parents entered the house as we engaged in a friendly match with newfound friends. Kane, being the charmer, struck up a conversation with a cute girl, displaying his flirting skills. Boys will be boys.

Amidst our fun, a formidable figure appeared, interrupting our game.

“So, you think you’re a great player, huh?” the towering guy named Moyo taunted. “Well, that won’t last long.”

Moyo had the look of someone feared by the entire neighborhood—an intimidating figure. But he didn’t scare me. Not many do, except for Kane when he’s looking to stir up trouble. Sibling pranks are essential, after all. But let’s focus on the big jerk for now.

“We just moved in and decided to join these guys for a game. Any problem with that, punk?” I replied, maintaining a friendly tone.

“Just play a match and have fun,” Kane interjected, aware of the brewing tension.

“Only fun?” Moyo’s mischievous smile suggested otherwise.

“Alright, let’s get this game started.”

And so it began...