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Horse This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I like to play a basketball game called "Horse" with my Dad. It's the game where you have to imitate each other's shots. If you miss, the penalty is a letter. Five letters spell HORSE. I like to play with my Dad because he has grey hair, failing eyesight, and chronic back pain. I figure I should be able to win pretty easily.

When we play, we talk to each other a lot:

"Dad, you're leaving a trail of pine-scent bug repellent."

"What is it, H-O to H-O-R-S?"

"Dennis Johnson, from the corner."

"Air all."

"Quick. How many times does DJ bounce the ball before he shoots a free-throw?"

"Twelve."

"How'd you come up with that answer?"

"You wanted an answer, I gave you an answer."

"It's fifteen. That's how many years he's been in the pro's."

"Okay..A turnaround, from right here."

"You were not there."

"Would I cheat my own son?"

"Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill, right?"

"Right. This is for the game. I knew I was going to skunk you tonight. I just had a feeling. I could have predicted ..."

"How come you always Acould have predicted' at the end of the game?"

"Just go ahead."

"No pressure. Oww. Seven games to zip."

"H-O-R-S-E. You know, son, I think I'll be beating you at this game'Atill the day I die." n




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






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