“Like, yeah? I don’t get trophies for playing, though, I just get, you know, tolerated. But this … you must be good, huh?”
Will’s voice was tight. “Not good enough for a scholarship.”
I picked up one of the taller awards, a towering gold figurine of Michael Jordan landing a slam dunk. Well, at least, it might have been Michael Jordan. It was hard to tell because it was faceless and a little misshapen. “So, do you want to try to go pro?”
The creaking of bedsprings told me Will had sat down. “That’s what everyone wants me to do.”
“Okay. But is that what you want to do?”
I turned around to find Will shrugging at the ground. “Basketball is fun, but I can’t help feeling like I should be more passionate about it if I were gonna try to go pro. Can’t something you do as a hobby just be that?
