Basketball, Ariana Grande, lots of cheating, successful careers, tons of heartbreak, heavy drug use, depressing music, and well you get the point.
You G!P
"Y/N AVERY BROWN, WAKE YOUR ASS THE FUCK UP." My mom screams banging on my bedroom door.
"I don't want to." I reply.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" She asks once she's able to open it.
"I said I'm getting up. Good morning momma." I respond and get out of bed.
I have all the balls in the world when she's not around but the moment we're face to face, I get scared.
"Good morning my ass. This is your senior year and you can't be late." She says.
I was 17 entering my final year in high school. I'd be 18 by the time I graduate and hopefully drafted into the NBA. The league was getting rid of the college rule meaning I didn't have to go to college to get drafted. Hopefully, I'd be the first woman to play in the league. The WNBA is cool but it doesn't compare to the NBA.
"Why you ain't screaming at Chris? I bet he still sleep." I say.
"He was next." She responds.
"CHRISTOPHER MAURICE BROWN." She yells, walking out of my room.
I walk into my bathroom and take a quick hot shower. Once I'm done, I dry myself and my hair. I put my hair in a messy bun and brush my teeth. Removing the towel that's wrapped around me, I put on a sports bra and a pair of Calvin Klein boxers.
I walk to my closet and pick out a white t-shirt, my letterman jacket, ripped jeans, and a pair of Jordan 4's.
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I spray my signature Dior cologne and put on a gold chain along with some earrings. I grab my backpack and head downstairs.
"Today is the first day of school and you're dressed like that?" Chris asks.
"Nigga shut up. Your hair is red and yesterday it was blonde. Keep dying yo shit and you'll be bald. Ain't nobody gon' want a big headed bald nigga." I reply.
"Damn sis, I was just joking." He says.
"Now it's just a joke. You only saying that cause I just got on yo ass. This is why you should just shut up and stick to making your SoundCloud ass music." I respond.
"You know what, fuck you. I hope you don't get drafted into the league." Chris replies.
"If I don't get drafted then you don't get a Hellcat." I say.
He stays silent as he knows he wants that car.
"That's what I fucking thought. Now shut yo singing ass up." I say.
"Can both of y'all just shut the fuck up?" Our mom says coming around the corner.
"Yes ma'am. Sorry Ma." Chris says.
"Such a kiss ass." I mumble.
I hiss in pain at the feeling of the back of my neck getting slapped.
