Dribbling the ball and shooting into the overhead hoop is how I have spent my entire morning when my mother walks out holding a tray with two tall glasses of lemonade. She knows I prefer Gatorade when I play ball and I like lemonade when I am swimming, so what gives? Does she know what dad had asked me to get Damian to do? It’s been bugging me since that morning but mum looks so devoid of things like that. But then again, she is the one pushing dad to be mayor…is she capable of these dark things? Is mum the pants wearer in our family and dad is just the prop?
Thoughts like this have been scraping on my mind but I plaster a smile onto my face and hold the ball against my waist, walking towards her, grateful for the cold beverage. I am mid-way between raising my other arm to swipe away at t
