“Great.” I reply and toss my garbage into a dispenser a few feet away. Zeke studies the dispenser and then looks at me.

“You should have tried out for the basketball team this year, dude.” He states.

I shake my head, “Nah, they would have just humiliated me again and told me that I’m not what they are looking for.” My heart stung at my own words. I had tried out for Jr. Varsity at the encouragement of my mom as a freshman, but the coach took one look at scrawny, 14-year-old me and told me he needed someone who was built for sports. I had always excelled in what I put my mind to, but basketball was something I had liked and felt that I had a natural talent for. I hated that the memory affected me.

&...

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