The room was how she left it four years ago, save for being scattered with boxes from her dorm. The boxes mostly held skateboards carefully wrapped with five in a box. Before she left for college she had donated most of her childhood things. What she kept now looked like a time capsule. Her bed was made, the bedding freshly cleaned with three irreplaceable plushies on the sheets. They were welcoming her home: the black cat whose whiskers were mostly gone, the purple dragon missing both of his wings, and her orange bunny with the velvet rubbed off its nose and pink under the ears that had once been red. All three of them were her childhood friends. They all bore stitches sewn by her mother from every time Zoie brought them from outside with their stuffing coming out, describing some “Azadent” in her thick accent.

She opened a box of clothes and put them away in the empty drawers. What she did not take was donated. She had a lot on her mind as she worked. This was temporary. She was moving out of state to her future in the FBA.

“Ow it go?” Her father's booming voice asked from the door. Demetrius was dressed for work at the hospital, his dark blue scrubs iconic in her childhood memories.

“It was good. She ‘ad a lot ta say about de boardin'.” Disappointment was in her voice. Her second favorite hobby was on the chopping block.

Demetri's ear wilted some and looked at his little girl all grown up. “We'll take good air of dem fur ja.” Putting his duffel bag down he walked up and looked at the one board she unpacked. He remembered buying it for her in high school. She had taken good care of it, though it was the one she did most of the tricks on-- oh how her mother hated them. A smile crossed his aged muzzle. “Take de eels off dis un and take it wit ja.”

Zoie smiled at her father. “Dat work den, would ave it ta ang on da wall.” Her favorite board was the one with the cheering Zurp on it. “Dank ju fa ‘iring dat sports lawyer fur me, was da ‘ery practical graduation p’esant. I not wantn’ ta know ‘ow much dat five ‘ours time was costn’.”

“Jour lunch be down airs and I sure mother wants ta ‘ear all about ya mor...” He was cut off with a hug.

“Go now, I not want ta dink I may ‘ave killed som’mon by making ju late ta da ER.” Zoie pushed him out of her room and put his duffel bag in his arms.

She smiled as he left for work and looked back at the skateboard on her bed. The college had a mandatory class about sports contracts. It covered contracts and money management and ethics for all the sports the college offered. Her parents raised her smart and she had never touched any drugs. She didn't even drink while she was in the dorms because it would mess up her sleep and throw off her game.

There are many presents you could give your daughter when they graduate college with a Master's in medical science. Many more you can give one who is about to join the FBA as the number one draft pick. Her father though was a thinker and practical in almost everything he did as a father and as a doctor. The present he gave her was a five hour session with a sports lawyer, one of the best ones he could find in Southern California.

Zoie was very thankful for it, though her morning was spent in a stuffy office surrounded by sports memorabilia. Footballs signed by some of the best, golden balls from every sport, and a gold basketball with a name she'd wished she'd read. Many of them were gifts from clients, some were personal collection. At first Zoie did not really know what to do or say or ask but after the first reading of a generic basketball contract the questions started pouring out.

At the end Zoie did not even know she was running out of time, but a few things were now much clearer. Basketball would be her next love, job, and religion. They covered everything from new medical needs and budgets to the dreaded ban on boarding… all boarding. No cruising, no tricks, she could not even do a cartwheel without a penalty. If she sprained her wrist or ankle, she could cost her new team thousands and be unable to play. She was now an investment - and a promising one - being told that most fresh rookies get a one-million, one-year contract where she would likely get an eight-million, two-year contract.

She sat down and looked over the boxes in her room, the smell of spicy chicken wafting from the kitchen where her mother cooked. The idea that came to mind was a good one, though it would require the boards to sit in the boxes for a bit longer. She would donate them to charity, signed and to be auctioned off when she got her first MVP. Though she would have to choose a charity, it would be the best use of her past hobby.

She would keep one. This one, with the white Zurp, purple wheels and blue background. The scratches it had received from the tricks and wipe outs, all were marks of her passion for not just boarding, but for life. She took out her kit and worked to get the baseplate off, to make this one her trophy.