Free Teenie by Christopher Grant Page B

On the way through the locker room, something dawned on me. “Cherise, how do you know your way around this place so well?” Cherise was zipping through there like she had a GPS. She giggled, saying, “Don’t ask.”
    Even though I’ve been to plenty of Knicks and Liberty games, it still feels great to be so close to the action. This is Tech’s first play-off game in years, and a home game at that. Grady is a powerhouse every year but got off to a slow start this season because of injuries.
    I see a few of my friends already in the stands. Tamara andMalika are on the other side of the gym near the door, while Crystal, Sohmi, and Sabrina are in the middle of the bleachers. It looks like they spent some time in front of the bathroom mirror fixing their hair and makeup. I’m about to laugh when I hear the Grady players make their loud entrance. A player on their team yells, “WHOSE HOUSE?” and his teammates respond, “OUR HOUSE!!!” The booing of the crowd drowns them out before they have a chance to repeat the chant. These guys are cocky. Cherise is grinning from ear to ear.
    Everyone goes crazy when Greg leads the Engineers into the gym. Designer jeans do him no justice, because he looks even better in his shorts. His legs are muscular, especially his calves. He looks comfortable, confident, like he
knows
he’s the man. I try not to stare at him too hard, but I’m not having an easy time of it. God broke the mold after making him.
    Both teams are doing their warm-ups before the game starts. Just from the nonchalant way he’s shooting his layups, (his “economy of motion,” as my dad would say), I can tell that number 21 is Grady’s best player. I try to point it out to Cherise, but she’s too busy looking at number 3, because “he’s cute and has on the new Jordans.”
    I notice right away that Grady has a bigger team than we do. “Looks like Grady has more size up front than Tech.”
    “I bet they do,” Cherise says, with a dirty grin on her face.
    The game starts, and Grady jumps out to an early lead. Grady’s players are better than Tech’s, but Greg is keeping us in the game. He’s scoring from all over the place, and unlike moststar players I’ve seen, he passes the ball to his teammates. Grady tries double-teaming him, to little effect. He is making all the right decisions, playing a great game.
    At halftime, Grady is ahead by six.
    “I hope we have enough time.”
    I’m a little surprised to see that Cherise is actually showing some school spirit and taking an interest in the game. “Don’t worry. We’re only down six. There’s still a half to play.”
    “What? Girl, what you talking about? I hope I have enough time to give number three my phone number when the game is over.”
    “You’re the worst.”
    When the second half starts, the game gets tighter and the intensity picks up. These are the kinds of games that my dad loves. There are hard fouls, shifts in momentum, everything that makes basketball so much fun to watch. Because of Greg’s great play, we only trail by one with the game on the line. We inbound the ball at half-court with nine seconds to go. Greg starts under the basket and springs out to the top of the key when the referee puts the ball in play. He catches the ball at the top of the circle and squares up to the basket. Greg shoos away his teammate who slides over to set a screen for him. He wants all the glory for himself, and he deserves it. There are seven seconds left on the clock. Greg stands still and holds the ball high above his right shoulder. The Grady defender is all over him, not giving him any room to get off one of his beautiful jump shots. Greg smiles at him with three seconds on the clock and takes a jab step left. The defender bites on the move, and Greg drives to his right. He takes two dribbles andpulls up. He pump-fakes, and the Grady defender goes flying past him. Greg elevates for the game winner and lets it go as the buzzer sounds. Everyone in