Darnel wasn't picking up. It had been two weeks since we last spoke or seen each other. I blamed Ashley. I blamed college. I blamed everything that was getting in the way of his coming around or speaking to us. This was unlike him to turn his back on his family. He always came home or at least called.

         I sat at Chris's house up in his bedroom waiting to get in contact with Darnel, but so far, it was a no-go.

I wanted to leave a voicemail calling 'Nel out on his shit, but he picked up. "What do you need, Dre?"

No 'hello, how are you'?

Swallowing down the first bitter thought that came to mind, I pushed past it, ignoring his tone of sounding stressed. "You've been MIA."

"I've been busy. Do you need anything?"

Yeah, my brother. "Too busy for us?"

"I've got a lot on my mind right now...." Darnel paused before adding, "I just need some space."

"Space?"

"I just need time away from the family. There's a lot on my mind and I don't need any bias distractions, plus with finals coming up I just need all the space I can get."

I had the biggest feeling Ashley wasn't getting space. But I didn't bring it up.

"So we're a distraction?"

"I'm not saying that—look, I gotta go. I'ma call in a week or two, okay?"

I didn't respond. My hand was too busy shaking for me to respond. He wasn't abandoning us. He wasn't changing who he was. He wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that. Never.

"It's going to be okay. I love you, Dre."

"Yeah." I hung up and set my phone aside.

Fuck him.

Chris came back into the room carrying two bottles of water. He handed me one before retreating to his bed and scooting back until he was sitting up against the wall.

We were supposed to play basketball, but I had to pick Cree up from the dance studio and I didn't want to do it all sweaty. I lived fairly close to Chris, but wasn't in the mood to travel home and then go and get Cree.

"I need a favor," Chris came out and asked, bringing me from my thoughts of Darnel fucking up.

"How much?"

"Your dad's going to take Devonte to Miami after graduation, you going?"

I shook my head. They were going for a week and it was tradition for it to be one on one.

"My dad's going to chew my ass about geography and I know he's going to be bitching for the first week of summer about it..."

Chris was stalling. "How much?"

"I wanna throw a rager at your crib. A big blowout to celebrate the end of the year and the fact that we're now seniors."

I was on one. "Fuck it, let's do it. Just don't play no more of that rock shit you be listening to."

He wasn't really into rock music, but he did listen to some questionable genres of rap every now and then.

"I know what to play. The new Eminem album is dope."

I stood to my feet. "No."

"Eminem is—"

"Overrated," I finished. "Nobody wants to party listening to dude talk about killing people or rape."

Chris clicked his tongue. "So when Pac talked about it, it was okay?"

We would be here all day if he wanted to go there. I headed for the door. "It's different."

"How so?"

"Better flow."

Chris called out to me as I headed for the steps. "We're playing, Em, Dre!"

"I'm taking a Gatorade from your fridge for Cree," I shouted back up the staircase. "And you better play the hits only."

I went and grabbed the hydrating drink from his fridge before going and getting in my car. Before I could start it up my cell phone rang, letting me know my father was calling.

Setting my phone up to the car, I put it on speaker and backed out of the driveway. "What's up?"

"I just got home from a meeting. Devonte's tutoring some girl at the library and I was wondering where you were," said my father.

Devonte had successfully landed a threesome with his two girlfriends, but then one got jealous of the other and they wanted him to choose. Naturally, Devonte chose neither and ditched them both and had been on the prowl ever since. A few girls had brushed by me in the hall once and said we Parkers were commitment-phobes, which wasn't exactly true. At eighteen and seventeen, Devonte and I weren't interested in committing to one girl, but I saw a future where I put aside basketball and hooked up with one girl and one girl only. Even Devonte wasn't so against the idea. He just had a stupid knack for fucking with people's feelings currently. I prayed for his sake this girl he was tutoring wasn't next on his list, because sooner or later, the shit he got into would catch up to him.

"I was at Chris's house."

"Oh, you two shoot around?"

"We were supposed to be, but I have to go and pick up Cree."

The tension was there even if I wasn't in the same room with my father. I knew he was shaking his head in distaste at the mention of Cree. He had nothing to worry about. Cree and I'd been cool for a month and we were nowhere near about to hook up or any other cliché shit my father was dreading or some girls at school had in mind.

Really, as long as she was chasing fairy tales and bullshit, she'd forever be alone. Her ideal guy didn't exist at seventeen and the sooner she realized this, the sooner she could stop selling herself a dream.

"You need to hurry up and smash that and get back on track," my father urged.

Get back on track. Focus on basketball and showing out next season and wowing scouts. Right.

It was already a done deal. We weren't following each other, but the boys and I all wanted to go to OSU. Tremaine and Marcus were practically a packaged deal and scouts had been watching them since freshman year. With basketball, it was the same for my brothers and me along with Chris, with our father being who he was and our proving that athleticism ran in the family, we were making waves in the paper as well.

"I'm not interested," I said as I tightened my grasp on the wheel.

"Good, I've already got one boy out here acting stupid, I don't need two."

He had that right. Darnel had lost his damn mind and needed someone to set him straight.

"Not happening, Dad."

"So you're studying?"

"We're meeting up to finalize our paper for class. Is that okay?" I tried to keep the irritation from my tone, but his constant questioning me about Cree was getting annoying. First he didn't see what I saw in her because she was so "plain" and "homely," one of which, she was not. I found it grating that he wanted me away from the possibly of a relationship with Cree, yet was bothered by the fact that she wasn't bad like Troiann. Was it not better for Cree to look like Cree than girls like Draya and Troiann?

It was then that I decided not to bring Cree over my house. While part of me viewed the idea of the two of them debating as humorous, I wasn't in the mood for him to chastise me or walk around, conveniently taking interest in our paper and spying on Cree.

"Your tone, Dre."

"You're digging, trying to see if I like her or something and I said I didn't. How much clearer do I have to make myself before you get it?"

We weren't supposed to talk to our father so brolic, but sometimes when pushed, our attitudes came out.

"I don't want you losing sight on what's important."

"I've been playing basketball for as long as I can remember. I wouldn't let anything get in the way of that. You should know that by now."

Everything made sense out on the court. Nothing could ruin my mood when I was playing ball. Stress melted away and all was at ease while I played the game I loved. Nothing ever came close to ball. No girl, no matter how bad she was, or how much of a good fuck she was in bed, could ever be on the level of basketball. Only my family and friends deserved that honor.

Basketball was my life. If I wasn't playing basketball, I wasn't DeAndre, and if I wasn't DeAndre, then who the hell was I?

"That's what I like to hear. You better work hard, I want all As on your report card." He hung up with a joke. We both knew I would be bringing home nothing less than a B at the lowest.

My cell phone rang again and this time it was Marcus.

"Let's go downtown," he said as soon as I answered.

"What's downtown?"

"I don't know. Wanna try some boxing or something? I'm bored."

"Can't, I'm about to work on my paper with Cree. Why don't you hit up, Troy?"

Marcus groaned. "She's with her Mom somewhere."

I wasn't getting the issue. "You do realize you're just hooking up, right?"

"Right."

"Then why don't you go get it from someone else if you want it that bad?"

For a moment the line was quiet and I could tell Marcus was thinking over his options. He and Troiann weren't a couple in either of their eyes, yet now that Troiann had told Cree about their hooking up, they often did hold private conversations or share inside jokes when we were all together.

Troiann was different from most girls Marcus messed with. She wasn't out to be his girlfriend and she didn't care about his whereabouts or who he flirted with, granted she did roll her eyes if she caught another girl flirting her ass off on Marc, but she didn't make a fuss. Marcus even said she didn't even like to cuddle or talk about what they did together.

I knew Marcus too well and I knew despite himself, he liked her for not pressuring him to be with her in a relationship. I knew he liked her because she wasn't trying to change who he was. I knew he liked her because he kept going back.

"Then I'd have to hear about how I'm out here making her look stupid or something."

"Troiann wouldn't care."

"She'd cut me off in spite."

"And?"

"I'm not done yet."

It was up to him to realize why, so I didn't push. "All right, but maybe later we can do something. I'm trying to get this paper done. It's due Monday."

"Cool. Hit me up when you finish."

I agreed to call him later and hung up.

I pulled into the studio's parking lot and got out of the car and headed over to the entrance. It was four thirty and Cree should've been done preparing her routine for the talent show. She wouldn't let me see her dance or let me know what she had planned. She wanted me to wait and see with the rest of the school. It was her way to get back at me for setting her up in the first place. With the talent show a week away, I had a strong feeling Cree was about to kill it. The few other kids who had signed up seemed to be doing mediocre things like juggling, magic tricks—some dude planning to do a semi-strip tease to Trey Songz.

Cree would win hands down.

She met me in the lobby with her gym bag on her shoulder, dressed in a tank top and yoga pants, ready to go.

I held out the Gatorade for her. "Hey."

She accepted the sports drink and smiled up to me. "Hey, thanks."

"How's it going?" I asked as we headed out to my car.

"I think I just about nailed it down," Cree replied. We were walking side by side but she stopped and turned to stare at me. "Something wrong?"

"No. Why?"

"You seem irritated. Is everything okay?"

Not with Darnel. Not at my house. No. "Everything's fine."

Still, she looked skeptical. "You sure?"

"Yes, Cree."

She shook her head and reached out, taking and holding my hand. "I'm here if you need to talk, okay?"

I dropped her hand and headed for the driver's side. "Noted."

Cree rolled her eyes and joined me in the car. "So Tremaine is already planning his 'Summer Smash' list or whatever. You guys are a trip, you know that?"

"So he has summer goals, what's so wrong with that?"

Cree shook her head. " 'Summer goals,' Dre?"

"Summer goals, Cree."

Now she was crossing her arms. "You know what your problem is?"

"I have a big feeling you're about to tell me."

"You're living through your dick, that's your problem."

I was nowhere near on that status like Tremaine and Marcus. But she was entitled to her own opinion. "I'm not a player, I just—"

" 'Crush a lot'?" Cree finished with a smirk.

Of course she would choose to quote the clean version. I shook my head, flashing her a smile. "The correct word was 'fuck,' Cree, but we'll go with your answer."

Cree leaned over and elbowed me, but she still smiled and laughed at my joke.

"So the dancing is going well?" I asked.

"Yeah, I've made my mix and my routine is pretty solid so far. My aunt loves it."

"Okay, I've just been hearing things out in these streets about you being nervous."

"These streets? DeAndre, you live in an affluent suburb."

"Whatever, you better kill it."

"I'm sure I will. I heard Ellis Thornberry is singing and you know she can blow."

I shrugged. "You got that right."

Again Cree elbowed me and laughed.

I pulled into her driveway behind her father or Loraine's car and parked.

Cree looked at her house and frowned. "Here?"

"My place is getting played. We gotta switch it up."

Cree obviously didn't like this suggestion as she made a face and got out of the car. I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that her father was home. According to her, they were closer before Loraine and barely did anything one on one due to her. She said it wasn't intentional on her father's part, but it bothered her, that and the fact that he wasn't supportive of her dancing.

Mr. Jacobs came and met us at the door. He took one look at me and faced Cree, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

No one wanted their precious daughter dating a tattooed, popular, handsome ball player. Our reputation said more than our good deeds ever could. With Cree, we were friends, but to her father, I was probably scheming on the low.

I held my hand out to shake with him. "Hello, Mr. Jacobs."

He shook my hand but said nothing, still eyeing Cree.

Cree reached out and patted her father's chest. "Oh Daddy, knock it off. DeAndre and I are just going up to my room to practice making grandbabies for you."

He took in a sharp breath through his nose. He didn't like her sense of humor.

Mr. Jacobs had nothing to worry about. When Cree was around my eyes never lingered below her neck, if he noticed at all.

He stepped out of the way and allowed us into the house. "You dancin' too much, girl. You losin' weight."

Cree grimaced and said nothing as she led me down the hall into their kitchen. I got the feeling she was relieved when he didn't follow us. Her letting out a breath confirmed it.

I tapped her arm. "You okay?"

Cree shrugged like it didn't bother her but I knew she was lying. I had a father who could be a bit much at times and for that I didn't push her.

"I got you something," she said to change the subject.

"Yeah?"

She poked me. "It's food."

She brought me food? She may have been right. We might've had to go up to her room and "practice making grandbabies" for that one.

"Turkey sandwich and Cherry Coke?" It was what she usually made me but only because she'd learned quickly that the two were my favorites.

"Better. We gotta switch it up sometimes, no routines."

"But I like those two."

"I brought you a Mediterranean, it's a flatbread sandwich and there's Cherry Coke."

"What's on it?"

"Mortadella, pepperoni, salami, provolone cheese, baby arugula—"

I frowned. "Doesn't sound like a turkey sandwich."

Cree huffed. "Come on, old man, let's show you."

She headed over to her fridge and brought out a Styrofoam carryout box. "I made it yesterday but it should still be good."

Cree heated the sandwich up and handed me a cold Cherry Coke. And soon she was sliding the sandwich on a plate over to me.

"It looks greasy," I said taking notice of the red-orange grease pooling on the plate.

"But it's good."

It did look good and she had gone through the trouble of making it for me. I took a bite and found that she was right, it was good.

Cree smiled with delight upon seeing my approval. "Told you."

I set the sandwich aside and wiped my hands. I opened the Coke and took a long sip, still wishing for a turkey sandwich. "I'll eat it later. What candy do you have?"

Cree cocked a brow. "Uh-uh, you ain't getting none of my sweets after you stay harassing me about how much I eat them."

I smirked, lifting a brow. "I can't have none of your candy, Cree?"

Cree visibly trembled, looking elsewhere. "Oh I bet you have some witty comeback about my not sharing my candy, Dre."

Feeling playful, I stepped closer to her. "I could just take your candy and call it a day."

Cree looked to me. "Take my candy?"

I nodded. "Take it. Own it."

She slit her eyes. "What is it with you guys and possessing things?" She shook her head and placed the sandwich back in the carryout box after wrapping it. She put the box in the microwave and turned and led the way out of the kitchen and to the staircase.

This was the first time I'd been over Cree's house for longer than a minute, let alone about to see her room.

Cree was different from most girls and I didn't know what to expect upon stepping into her room. For some reason, I had a hard time picturing a normal room with posters of R&B singers or rappers or from films.

When we made it to her room I found my curiosity answered.

Her room was the paradigm of innocence. Her pink bed sheets with the white and pink quilt overtop sent warning signs through me. Cree wasn't the type of girl you fucked, but the typed you..."made love" to. Something that I wasn't capable of. It was a good thing we were friends, or else I wouldn't feel right about sleeping with her.

Two of her walls were pink and the other two were white. The whole color scheme of the room was