Everything about J says NBA. He has all the right jerseys with all the right numbers. His shorts and shoes have matching power logos. He’s twitchy in the classroom.
When we introduced ourselves he told us he holds a free-throw record. He’s at our community college just to pick up a few stray credits.
He moves his body in the way only a sure-to-be draft pick would, a swagger that answers to nobody. During lectures he keeps himself busy with cans of soda and bags of chips.
There are only five of us so we get frequent turns at exercises. When it’s J’s turn, he’ll throw a head fake and get rid of the ball as fast as he can. J is bright but he wastes our time.
He’s confident that coaches, not academics, will decide his future and that money, celebrity and an NBA career will rescue him from this purgatory of lectures and labs.
J reached his full adult height several years ago. He stands five feet, four inches tall.
