“Yeah, and I’m not downplaying what you went through. We have both built walls around us, and yours are going to be tougher to break down.”
“If I were in love, then I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“Hey.” I look at him briefly. “If you ever find it, you resign. Nothing is worth giving up love for.”
He thrums his fingers on the window panel. “Noted.” He looks out the window. “Where the hell are we going?”
“Where I can be of help.”
“So it’s not on your schedule?”
“Nope.”
He smiles. “Never a dull moment.”
“Look out the window.”
Ewan glances up at the sky and smiles.
“Your advice is always that tomorrow will be sunny. Well, my friend. It is.”
I pull into the school staff parking lot. “The kids nor their coach know I’m coming. I called the principal, and he’s going to introduce us.”
“You. Not me. I need to remain inconspicuous,” he confirms.
I grin at him. “It’s a primary school, and they would be equally impressed by you and your muscles.”
He looks around the parking lot and the older, run-down buildings. “Yeah. I think you’re going to make these kids’ day.”
After passing security and the administration staff requesting selfies, the principal leads us into the gymnasium. The moment the doors open, shrills of laughter and erratic screams fill our ears.
“Jesus, who has the whistle?” Ewan grumbles.
The teacher blows a whistle, and silence gradually follows, apart from the bouncing of balls as the kids group and sit in front of him. The closer we get, the coach’s jaw drops. His gaze flicks to the principal, then back to me.
I approach him and shake his hand before the principal has a chance to introduce us. “Brandon Johns. I hope you don’t mind the interruption.”
“This is unexpected and exciting for the children. Sorry, I’m Jeremy Jones.”
“This is my personal trainer, personal security, and friend, Ewan.”
Ewan steps forward to shake his hand.
Interrupting the whispers, the principal steps forward. “Mr. Brandon Johns from the LA Sharks NBA basketball team has come to visit you all and share some of his skills. Please make him welcome.”
The children applaud, smiles filling the gymnasium. He hands the reins to me, and I shout, “Who wants to play basketball?”
“Me,” is shouted back.
I place a hand behind my ear, encouraging more excitement.
“Me!”
I lean forward, my hand still to my ear. “I can’t hear you?”
“Me,” they all yell, and it echoes through the building.
I grin and explain, “Ewan and Mr. Jones are going to divide you into groups, and I’ll take turns, making sure I see all of you and show you some of my tricks. Any questions?”
