Playing Ball with Shahzad This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By
      When I come out of the bathroom I see mybrother Shahzad. It is late, and I am about to go to bed. As I pass himin the hall, he shoves me into the wall, and then happily walks to theliving room, pleased with himself. I decide to counter-attack but can’tgo for the head-on assault because he would surely pummel me. I decideto look for a ball for a sneak attack as Shahzad sits on the couchwatching the Phoenix Suns, his favorite team, play the L.A. Lakers.

I look under my bed and get lost in the dust. I blindly swing myhand back and forth in search of a ball. I finally find one the size ofmy head way back in the far reaches. I approach the living room where myunsuspecting prey sits. Then, I wind up and throw the ball at Shahzad’shead. I can see the cloud of dust fly off as it gracefully flies onto mybrother’s head. Plop!

I quickly head for the kitchen. I can getto the dining room and the living room from the kitchen: my escaperoute. The kitchen is fairly small but if I return to my room, Shahzadwill probably have me in his grip before I can close the door. From thecorner of my eye I see my brother has picked up the ball and is on mytail.

In the kitchen, my mother washes dishes, facing away fromthe living room. I run past her as she yells, “Slow down!” I don’t payattention, too worried about what my brother will do. I imagine he’lldecapitate me and then jump on me a couple of times.

I approachthe dining room but don’t go in, so I can see which way Shahzad iscoming. Then, I run through the dining room into the living room, but Iam too slow. He has already caught up to me. He has a perfect shot. Hethrows the ball and I decide to take a dive onto the couch, but withoutluck. The ball hits me right in my face, and my brother falls to thefloor, crying with laughter.

Then my mother comes into theliving room and starts yelling at both of us. She gives the usuallecture about not running in the house and not throwing things. Then,she takes the ball into the kitchen and stabs it with a butter knife. Mybrother and I can’t stop laughing. We sit on the couch, and I look athim. He has a huge grin on his face. Then we finish watching the gametogether.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback