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Kevin Collins
Final Draft
“Bye dad,” I said as I climbed out of my dad’s car and threw my backpack around my
shoulders.
“Have fun bud,” my dad replied as he began to drive away. I made my way into the “Y”
with the sun just barely visible and the sky a dark shade of purple that foreshadowed that the
night was near. I came up to the first set of automatic doors and waited for them to open. My
mind was racing thinking about what the night had in store for me. “Who is here?” “Will I get
picked up?” “Will Aron be here?” All of these questions bouncing around in my head as I made
my way into the building. But before any of my questions could be answered, I walked through
the second and final set of automatic doors and the stench of sweat and rubber filled my nose. It
wouldn’t be a real trip to the “Y” if you didn’t experience the aromas which included the stench
of chlorine that reached the front doors all the way from the back of the building where the pools
were. The sound of children screaming, basketballs pounding the floor over and over, and grown
men yelling over whose ball it is. I reached in the left pocket of my grey Nike sweatpants for my
wallet so that I could get my “Y” ID out and hand it to the man sitting behind the desk slumped
in his chair.
“Hi how ya doin’?” the man behind the desk asked me, casually, as I handed him my ID.
“Good how are you?” I replied politely.
“Good thanks,” he muttered as he returned my ID. I walked down several narrow green
stairs until I finally reached the bottom level of the building. I walked onto the track and then
finally made my way to the courts.
“What’s up Kevin?” my friend Gilles asked me as we gave each other a quick handshake.
“What’s up Gilles?” I replied as we made our way over to the benches and I started
taking off my backpack and unzipped my coat. I began taking my shoes out of my backpack and
I surveyed who was on the court. I saw some regulars, some kids who had no business being on
the court, and then I saw Aron. Aron is a twenty-something year old who comes to the “Y” and
trains kids to get better at basketball. My goal, at that time in my life, was to make the
sophomore basketball team at my high school. Ever since I first saw him train kids, I was jealous
of those that got to learn from him. My heart rate began accelerating and my mind started to race,
hoping that he would notice that I had been coming up there more and more lately and ask me if
