Maleek laughed while trying to remove himself from my hold. He threw a couple air punches before hitting me in the side.
I released him. “That’s how you feeling?”
He dropped his bag, getting into his stance before swinging.
I backed away from it, making him winded.
“That’s where you fucking up at.” I jabbed. “You can’t be eager.”
He watched my feet, swaying and bobbing like he knew my next move.
“How come?”
I hit him in the chest when he least expected.
He folded over.
“You can’t prepare for what you don’t see,” I coached, stepping over him, leaving him in the yard. He groaned in pain, but I wasn’t about to baby his ass. He wasn’t fucked up– the hit was enough to feel it, but I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I’d never use the kind of force or strength I use in the ring, unless his young ass requires it. Even then I might be reluctant.
I was in the kitchen killing a bottled water when he finally came in limping.
“Nigga, you aiight,” I told him, shaking my head.
“Why you hit me like that?”
“Nah, you threw the first hit. You gotta take that L on the chin.”
I tossed him a bottle, and he caught it on reflex. I was impressed.
“Where you learn them moves from?”
“I be watching.”
I raised up, taking a seat on the counter.
“Where you supposed to be at now?”
Maleek’s eyes dropped as he distracted himself with the bottle. He wasn’t expecting me to ask, but he knew I didn’t play when it came to his safety. I might do a lot of unsafe shit in my world, but that ain’t for everybody else.
“Leek.”
“At basketball tryouts.”
“So, why you ain’t there?”
“Because I wanted to kick it with you.”
“What you gon’ tell Ma if you don’t make the team because you missed tryouts?”
He shrugged. “It won’t be the first.”
I hopped down. “What do you mean?”
“It’s happened before. That’s all.”
I don’t want to spend this lil’ bit of time we have arguing, making him shut down and shit.
“Aye, I gotta get cleaned up.”