I was just warming up when I heard someone call, “You are in desperate need of an expert to teach you how to handle that ball.” I went for a lay-up over Tim’s head. “If an expert comes by,” I said, “let me know.” Tim rebounded the ball and dribbled to the perimeter for an outside shot. “I’ve been waiting for that batch of cookies you owe me.” “You didn’t win the bet. It was a tie.” “Then I guess it’s all right for me to beat you in a game.” His shot clanked off the rim. I grabbed the rebound and swished a shot. “In your dreams,” I said. Tim checked the ball and asked, “So, what did you think of Cassie’s speech?” “I thought it was intellectually stimulating. It must have taken you all of five minutes to help her write that yesterday,” I said, blocking Tim’s shot and stealing the ball. Dribbling around the court, I mimicked, “I’ve got a body. Yes I do. I’ve got a body, so I’ll show it to you!” “Hey, don’t blame me for that speech—I had nothing to do with it,”
