{Craig is talking to himself} [Craig is texting someone]
Chapter 1 Ready to Start
Here I am, sitting again, looking at these damn composition notebooks. There are so many ideas in my notebooks, uncompleted. All the Tame Impala in the world can't get me in the creative headspace to finish these stories. I just recently graduated college at Key University with a BA in Media Communications. It all seems surreal right now, sitting in my room in this apartment I share with my older sister Keisha Turner. I have no job currently, so I'm essentially freeloading. I do got a job interview in a couple of hrs., but if I'm being frank, I'm not feeling too good about it.
Maybe I'm just not that marketable. But I know one thing that I am right now. Hungry. I hear Keisha in the kitchen, probably getting ready for work.
"Oh, great, she's here, Megan Winston, the bane of my existence and my first crush." She also happens to be my sister's best friend.
Megan grew up in California; she and her dad would always watch Lakers and Sparks games on tv and sometimes in person. These little moments with her dad made her love for basketball grow, and she started playing basketball almost daily. Then her dad got a job in Key City, Georgia. She would have to move from the sunny beaches of California to the other side of America in the suburbs.
She was waiting at the bus stop when my big head sister started talking to her.
"You new?" Keisha says to girl.
"Yeah, I just moved here from California."
"Really! Like Hollywood, California."
"Close enough, Los Angeles."
"Oh, I just thought you were a fan of winners wearing that jersey. My name is Keisha, by the way."
"Hi, and it's because Kobe is just the best."
"He is pretty good."
From this little interaction, she and my sister became fast friends. One day they were playing basketball when her ball popped. So, my sister decided she could have our ball. I mean, we don't use it. So, she was awkwardly waiting for my sister in my living room as Keisha tore up the garage looking for a basketball.
"Uhhh...Hello. Can I... My mom says coming out from the back hallway.
"Hi, ma'am. I'm here with Keisha."
"Oh, okay...KEISHA!!!
"Yeah, mom!"
"Who is this white girl in my living room!"
"Megan! She just moved in three houses down from California!"
"Okay! Megan from California, nice to meet ya, baby."
"N..Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Turner."
"Mhmm," Mom says, walking outside to the garage.
"What's going on in...I paused because I saw an angel. I never knew I could be attracted to a white girl. But, at that moment, I knew.
"Hi you must be Craig."
"I"
"Ughhh, I can't find it. Hey Craig, have you seen the basketball."
"I"
"I... what. Keisha snaps her fingers. What's going on?"
"Is he okay"
"Can you not freak out, my friend, Craig"
"It's in my room."
"Go get it then."
"Yeah, okay..."
I was in a trance as I grabbed the ball from my room. I handed it to my sister, then she spoke to me.
"Hey, you wanna shoot around with us?" I just nodded in agreement; I took that invite and came out with them daily to shoot around. My sister doesn't even like basketball, but with Megan's help, she developed a wicked jump shot. I, of course, followed suit, but I am just generally unathletic. Megan was so friendly to me even when I had a bad day at school, and I could always rely on her to make my day better. It was the first time I ever felt that way about any girl. Then something changed.
It was Valentine's Day; I got her favorite candy, some Twizzlers sweet and sour. A card was attached to it with a letter that I wrote about how I felt about her. It was probably the best piece of writing I have ever written because it came from my heart. She was at the local basketball court down the street from our houses. They turned when they saw me, and she smiled at me. My sister grimaced, of course.
"Hey, Megan...Keis."
"Sup, bro"
"Hey, Craig. What ya got there?"
"I got you a Valentine's Day gift and card.
"Oh my god, I've never gotten one of these before."
"Oh, well, I'm happy to be your first."
"You dweeb, where is my valentine's day card?"
"I will get you later."
"Of course, you will."
"Come here, Craig." She pulled me into a nice, sweaty hug. God, I didn't wash that shirt for a week. Yeah, I know I'm a freak, but I was in love. Something changed after that day, and I went home on cloud nine. I woke up the next day, excited to see if she had read my letter. I met them again after school at the basketball court.
"Hey Megan"
"Oh great, it's Craig."
"What's up, Craig"
"I ah, I wondered if you read my letter?"
"No, I haven't read your letter."
"Oh...Okay, uh, are you gonna read it anytime like soon."
"Craig, it's in the trash." My heart dropped into my chest. I'd never felt anything like the emotion I felt at that moment before I could process what just happened as I stared at her face. The expression on her face was cold and flaccid. Keisha let out a big laugh.
"HAAAAA!!" Oh my god, you should see your face. You look like the one time you didn't get a Nintendo DS for Christmas. Oh, man." Keisha says, laughing, holding her stomach.
"Anything else you wanna know, Craig," Megan says, lifting her left eyebrow at me.
"No. I said.
"Megan doesn't want to play with you anymore, so bye. Keisha says while continuing to laugh some more." I turned around and walked back home with my tail between my legs. I didn't eat that night; I just lay in my bed staring at the ceiling. I wanted to cry. Okay, I did cry. Why did I make it weird for her? Why was being a creepy little brother?
That moment changed everything; Megan started to be downright mean to me. But, despite that, I still supported her and attended every one of her basketball games. She was amazing, always the catalyst for her team, and was simply all-around better than the competition. She was driven on the court as a girl possessed with winning at all costs, quickly becoming the best basketball player in the state, boy or girl.
Then her parents divorced; her mother cheated on her father. She was distraught then but still soldered on to double down her efforts in basketball. She was becoming a highly sought-after college recruit. She evenly went with the University of Georgia.
There she only improved, becoming a top college player. Her school was always close to winning it all but fell short during her freshman and sophomore years. Then her junior came, and she had her best season ever. She was going to be the consensus number-one pick in the WNBA draft. Then it happened. She broke her leg and damaged her knee after going up for a rebound and colliding with two opposing players. Her team was expected to win it all that year. But they quickly fell in the next round.
Her career was effectively over, but she still fought for that small glimmer of hope of playing again. Unfortunately, she was not in the best of moods when I visited her in the recovery hospital wing. She got really nasty with me, and that was the day my supposed crush for her died. She tried to make up with me and apologize, but at that point, after years of dealing with her. I just wasn't feeling being her punching bag anymore.
I moved away in went to college in Atlanta for four years. She moved into an apartment with my sister and started working at a retail store. Her dream is officially over, and her life is somewhat in shambles. But hey, she still had her looks right. On the other hand, I graduated from college and returned home to Key City. Why? Because I'm broke and couldn't find a job in the city. Crazy right? Now I'm moving into the same apartment she and my sister live. The caveat, she is moved out to live with her boyfriend.
It turns out her born-again Christian mom (that's another story) found her a lovely Christian boyfriend. First time I'd ever seen her with a guy; for a second, I thought whatever. She is happy and good; I mean, I never see her smile in her pictures. What pictures? I'm not looking at her social media, and it's my sister's social media page. She happens to appear on them. Their best friends remember?
It's whatever. I don't like this chick anymore. I've had girlfriends and got laid in college. I'm not still hung up on some skinny-ass white girl who couldn't hang in college basketball. With her weak ass knees. Okay. That was mean, and I don't mean that; I just..FUCK!! Why? What the hell is so good, great, and amazing about Megan Wilson? And why is she in our kitchen in her underwear with no bra on, making fuck me eyes at me? Am I tripping or....
"Take a picture, Craig, so that you can use it as spank material later." Megan snarked sarcastically at me.
"Ewe! Come on, I'm right here." Keisha says, rolling her eyes at her remarks.
"Why are you here? Again"
"To get something, I left it in my old room. You know the one you're squatting in took you long enough to wake up to." Megan gets up and walks casually toward me. She looked down at me like I was still that small kid following her and Keisha.
"I know this may disappoint you." She presses her long index finger into my chest.
"Next time you come out of your spank dungeon, make sure you put on a shirt. Nobody wants to see your disgusting chest." Her finger traces down the center of my pec. {She's teasing me; I've never seen her do this before to me. Why?}
"Move out of the way. I need to get in there. You got something to hide in here?"
"No, I don't have anything to hide. What are you looking for anyway? I moved some of your boxes like you left a whole house inside the closet. {Come on, don't look at her ass. That's what she wants you to do. Don't let her win.}
"Oomph. Why did you stop?" {Damn! I bumped into her ass, and it was... fuck don't get hard.}
"Why are following so close? Stop being weird." She says, shaking her head.
"I ah."
"You're creeping me out." Megan says, getting into my personal space again. Her scent is intoxicating me. When did she start wearing perfume? Is this new side of her because of her boyfriend?
"Oh my god, you're turning into a mute. Man, this brings back memories." Megan smirks at me, and it's like she knows she has me in the palm of her hand.
"What's up with all these notebooks on your bed? Don't tell me you got diaries."
"If I did, what's the problem? Journaling is a good way to recontextualize your issues."
"Okay, cool, hey, I graduated college, kid."
"Don't call me kid; you are like, what? Five years older than me."
"You're a kid, Craig; it's okay one day, you're going to turn into a real man." She places one of her hands on the top of my head. It pissed me off. I wanted to...God, I wanna wipe that smug smile off her face.
"Just because your freakishly tall doesn't mean you can treat me like a midget."
"I mean"
"No. I'm six fucking feet. "
"Hmmm, mmm, you sure are, honey."
"Alright, can you finish and get what you came for already? "
"Don't rush me; knocking you down a peg makes my day." {Knocking me down a peg, as if I need help with that.} She turns around to go into the closet.
