The Crossover

JB and I

are almost thirteen. Twins. Two basketball goals at

opposite ends of the court. Identical.

It’s easy to tell us apart though. I’m

an inch taller, with dreads to my neck. He gets

his head shaved once a month. I want to go to Duke,

he flaunts Carolina Blue. If we didn’t love each other,

we’d HATE each other. He’s a shooting guard.

I play forward. JB’s the second

most phenomenal baller on our team.

He has the better jumper, but I’m the better

slasher. And much faster. We both

pass well. Especially to each other.

To get ready for the season, I went

to three summer camps. JB only went to

one. Said he didn’t want to miss Bible school.

What does he think, I’m stupid? Ever since

Kim Bazemore kissed him in Sunday school,

he’s been acting all religious,

thinking less and less about

basketball, and more and more about

GIRLS.