Training Camp

by Kobe Bryant

  Rain nodded. “It’s time to fire Rolabi,” he said.

  He started for the bench, ignoring the flood of conversations that followed. He thought he even caught a few players arguing against the decision, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t get it. It was his call. Maybe some of the other guys thought they could get their families out of the Bottom too. But it was just a dream for them. It wasn’t expected. Planned for. It was for Rain. Basketball was his one chance to fix everything.

  He sat down and turned to the banners.

  “Just you watch, Pops,” he whispered, “I’ll get us back on track.”

  RAIN WALKED INTO Fairwood with Freddy trailing a few steps behind him. Freddy was clearly nervous. He had offered Rain a ride—well, Rain had insisted on it, to make sure Freddy showed up—and had kept shooting Rain leery half smiles throughout the drive. Even now he seemed to be moving with exaggerated slowness, like a prisoner debating an escape attempt. Rain had spent almost an hour on the phone convincing him to come.

  Freddy was here, and this misadventure was over.

  Rain still had only one hand. His mama and brother never said a word about it, despite Rain’s attempts to bring attention to it. Larry was shy at school, but he was a motormouth at home, and even he didn’t ask about it. Rain even waved it in front of his face, to which Larry said: “How do you give yourself a nickname? I was hoping for Maelstrom. Cool, right? Or maybe Downpour?” Rain had just sighed and given up. Clearly, it was some sort of illusion. But for him, his right hand simply wasn’t there. He couldn’t see it or feel it. He’d eaten dinner with his left hand, brushed his teeth with his left hand, gotten dressed with his left hand . . . All of it clumsy and awkward and frustrating. He needed his stronger hand back. Now.

  So make one.

  Stay out of my head! Rain thought, striding toward the benches.

  When the rest of the team saw Freddy, they fell silent.

  “Morning, team,” Freddy said. “How are we?”

  “Bad,” someone muttered.

  Rain checked the clock and the doors. It was nearly nine—the doors would be blowing open shortly. Would Freddy hold his nerve? Would the team? He steeled his own resolve. If he held, then Freddy would definitely fire Rolabi. But Rain’s breath was short, his heart pounding. Rolabi was clearly some kind of magician. Maybe a sorcerer. Whatever you called him, he was doing things nobody should be able to do. How would he react when they tried to fire him?

  Rain turned back to the team, tuning in to the conversation.

  “Well, he seemed really good . . .” Freddy was saying.

  “He probably hypnotized you,” Peño cut in. “He already got Rain’s mama.”

  Freddy stiffened and looked at the doors. “Rain, is . . . your mama coming today?”

  “None of our parents are,” Vin said. “He scared them all away somehow.”

  “We want him gone,” Jerome agreed. “Everyone does.”

  Freddy sighed. “Okay, okay. Rain, you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Rain said firmly.

  Freddy checked his cell phone. “All right, well, he should be here soon—”

  “Were you on any of these teams, Frederick?”

  Rain whirled toward the voice and saw Rolabi standing beneath the old banners. He was looking up at them, hands clasped at his back. His presence was disconcerting enough. But that wasn’t all.

  Rain squinted, disbelieving. The banners looked . . . new. The fraying edges were straight and neat. The faded colors re-stained. The missing letters resewn. They could have all been won yesterday.

  “Impossible,” he breathed.

  Rain stared at them every single day. He focused on one in particular: a District Runners-Up from sixteen years earlier. His father had been on that team—considered the best in the history of the Bottom. They had lost in the finals, which his father blamed on his teammates.

  “Let me down in the end,” he’d said. “But we were close, man. Right there.”

  And still Rain’s father had never made the Dren Basketball League. He never saw his dreams realized. No wonder his father hated living in the Bottom. Rain felt a lump in his throat and choked it back. He would be different.

  “What . . . Where did . . . ?” Freddy said.

  “I suppose you were too young,” Rolabi said thoughtfully. “It’s been so long.”

  Rain caught his meaning—the Bottom hadn’t seen a winning team in decades.

  “Can I help you?” Rolabi asked.

  Freddy paused and glanced at Rain, who nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

  “Yes,” Freddy said. “Can I speak to you privately?”

  Rolabi walked over and fixed his gaze on Freddy. “No need. Go ahead.”

  Rain tensed. Freddy was going to have to do it here? In front of everyone?

  The green eyes turned to Rain, pupils large, the color forming a thin ring around them like a solar eclipse. He saw it again—a lone mountain on an island. Snow had crept far down, right to the base and out toward the beach and the sea. The image seemed to grow larger.

  Will you be ready when the time comes?

  Freddy scratched his neck, snapping Rain back to attention.

  “Okay,” Freddy said. “Well . . . um . . . we have decided, that is, I have decided, that even though I’m sure you are a good coach, it’s just . . . well . . . not a right fit for the Badgers.”

  “Ah,” Rolabi said. “So, you would like to let me go?”

  “Well . . . yeah . . . Yes,” Freddy said, craning his neck to look up at the towering figure.

  Rolabi nodded. His eyes began to dart around the team, falling on one face after another. He didn’t look upset, but Rain still turned away, afraid to meet his eyes. He saw most of the other players do the same, finding sudden interest in their shoes or hands or anything at all.

  If we encircle ourselves with fears, which direction will we turn?

  Rolabi stuck out a hand, his unnerving gaze now fixed on Freddy.

  “I understand,” Rolabi said. “Good day.”

  Freddy cleared his throat. “Thanks, Rolabi. I will take over for the time—”

  Their hands met, Rolabi’s enveloping Freddy’s like an oven mitt, and Freddy stopped speaking. His back straightened. His mouth fell open. His eyes went wide and stopped blinking.

  Freddy looked around—at the bleachers, the banners, the walls, and finally, at the faces of the team. His eyes began to glisten, and a tear loosened and slipped down his cheek, beading on the edge of his mustache. Rolabi released Freddy’s hand, eyes still locked on his face. Freddy stood frozen with his arm outstretched, then slowly pulled it back, nodding.

  “Rolabi will remain the coach,” he said. “I . . . I look forward to the season. See you then.”

  Without another word, Freddy walked out of the gym. Rain was speechless.

  “He did it again,” Vin whispered.

  Rolabi set down his bag and turned to the team. Rain wondered if he would punish them—if they would have to run laps or do push-ups until they vomited. At the very least, Rolabi would certainly yell and lecture them about how they should never question their coach.

  But as usual, Rolabi surprised him.

  “Today we will be working on defense,” he said calmly. “Before I can teach you proper zones and strategies, I must teach each of you how to be a defender. They are not the same lessons.”

  There was suddenly a low, scratching noise. Rain looked around, frowning.

  “What must a defender always be?” Rolabi asked.

  There was another deep scratch. Rain looked around nervously. Had Rolabi brought something dangerous into the gym? Was he going to get his revenge? Did he know the decision had been Rain’s? He barely heard the others guessing answers to Rolabi’s question. Every raking scratch seemed to travel up and down his spine. A shudder race
d through him. What would he do? Could he run?

  Always running. Ahead and behind and nowhere all at once.

  Rain looked at Rolabi and felt himself shrink back. The gym seemed to grow black behind the coach, turning to shadow until only Rain and the professor remained. The big man stepped aside.

  “Look,” he said softly. “Do you see it?”

  Rain frowned and peered past him. Images took shape in the darkness. Game-winning shots. A trophy, a gleaming car, a house with carpets in every room. His own face, a little older, flashing white teeth in a toothpaste commercial. A family of four sitting together on a soft sofa . . .

  Rolabi stared at the visions. “Is that what you are chasing?”

  Rain surged ahead, wanting, needing to get to the visions. His father was there. His family was reunited. Larry and his mom were smiling, and they had money, and he needed it.

  A sharp pull at his waist stopped his advance. Rain looked down. A belt was wrapped around him, connected to a chain, and the chain led to an enormous lead ball nearly the size of a car. He tugged on the chain, and it moved, but an inch at most. He looked again into the darkness where he had seen his family.

  The images were fading. The silhouette of a man was there, waiting.

  “No!” Rain said. “I’m coming. Wait!”

  He ran, fighting, pushing his legs ahead, nearly clawing at the ground. His whole body strained until he thought his body might pop from the pressure. Still he kept driving forward.

  Then the image faded into blackness, and Rain sank to his knees.

  “No,” he whispered. “Please.”

  “It was always a long run,” Rolabi said. “But harder when you bring all that weight with you.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “You will.”

  The scratching returned, terribly loud. It echoed in the blackness a thousand times and shook the ground. Rain covered his ears, still staring out at the place where his family had been whole.

  “What is that sound?” Rain shouted.

  “Can someone open the locker room door?” Rolabi asked calmly.

  The blackness grew brilliant white, then gray, dusty, and fluorescent. Shapes took form.

  Rain was back in Fairwood, and the entire team had turned to the locker room door. Rain realized the noise was coming from inside. Something was in there. Something with large claws. He backed away.

  Is it real this time? he thought.

  It’s all real. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can start walking.

  Rain blinked. Twig was standing at the door, trembling, but with his fingers wrapped around the steel handle. He pulled it open, revealing darkness, and then a flash of rippling orange fur.

  Rain watched in disbelief as a tiger strolled out of the locker room. Tigers were long extinct, mythical really, and yet it walked right over to Rolabi and sat down, shooting the boys a toothy grin.

  “Meet Kallo,” Rolabi said. “She has graciously volunteered to help us today.”

  The tiger appeared to look them over. Her thick orange fur faded to white at her stomach as though she had waded through clean snow. Her purple eyes were flecked with gold like stars. But Rain was focused on her glistening fangs and the black claws partially sheathed in each massive paw.

  “Rain,” Rolabi said. “Step forward.”

  Rain looked at him, alarmed. So it was revenge, as he’d suspected. The tiger was here to maul him.

  The rest of the team turned to him. He knew they were watching to see what he would do. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to quit and go home. No one could blame him if he did—Rolabi had basically threatened his life. There were teeth and claws waiting on the court. But he remained.

  Rolabi had made it clear that if anyone left, they wouldn’t be allowed back on the team. Period. He was obviously in charge now, so if Rain left, the entire season was over before it started.

  There was no way he was leaving Elite Youth ball—and his plans—behind.

  Rain stepped forward, his eyes on the tiger. “Yes?”

  Rolabi set a ball on the floor and pushed it toward center court, where it stopped on the dot as if magnetized.

  “The drill is simple,” Rolabi said calmly. “Get the ball. Kallo will play defense. We will take turns and go one at a time. I want everyone else to watch and take note of what happens.”

  Kallo smiled, revealing two rows of scimitar teeth. Her tongue traced the tips of them.

  “What?” Rain said incredulously. “I’m not going near that thing.”

  Kallo shifted, looking offended, and he took a step back.

  “Maybe don’t call her a thing,” Peño suggested.

  Kallo began to pace back and forth in front of the ball. She stayed low, her muscles poised, her stripes rippling, bending, sucking him in. Rain felt like he was being hypnotized.

  But the fact of the matter remained: she was going to eat him.

  “Okay, I get it,” Rain said in a rush of breath. “I’m sorry we asked Freddy to fire you.”

  “This is not a punishment. It is a drill. Now get the ball.”

  “But . . .” Rain said.

  “A true defender must be a tiger. The first one to get the ball gets their hand back.”

  Rain looked down at his stump of a wrist. He wanted his hand back—desperately. It wasn’t just his future at stake. So he tried to quell his trembling and took a slow step to the right, testing the tiger’s reactions. Kallo followed languidly like flowing water. Rain tried the left, and she matched him with the same easy grace.

  Okay, he thought numbly. I can do this.

  Rain suddenly faked left and went right, moving as fast as he could. He didn’t have a chance. As soon as he changed directions, Kallo pounced on him, knocking him to the floor with surprising gentleness. He stared up at her open jaws, felt her breath wash over him. He gulped, waiting for the end. Instead, she licked his face with a sandpaper tongue and stepped off.

  Rain lay there, too shocked to move.

  “She killed him!” Peño cried.

  “I’m fine,” Rain said, climbing back to his feet. “She didn’t hurt me.”

  “Devon,” Rolabi said.

  There is courage in you. Harness it.

  How? Rain thought.

  You know how.

  Rain glared at Rolabi. Why couldn’t he give straight answers? Why did he have to speak in riddles? Rain had planned for Rolabi to be gone today, and instead here he was, unleashing tigers and watching his team’s star drag lead weights around. Rain steamed with frustration as one player after another approached Kallo, trying to figure out what Rolabi meant.

  How could Rain harness his courage when he felt so afraid?

  Nobody got through. Kallo knocked each player down and gave him a lick, eliciting squeals or giggles or disgusted blechs. Big John was last, and he folded his arms and outright refused to go. Despite teasing, despite Rolabi’s veiled warnings, he was obstinate.

  Kallo settled down on the hardwood and partially closed her eyes as though she could tell her opponent wasn’t ready to play. Even resting, she still managed to look ferocious.

  “It’s not that bad,” Twig said. “She’s really gentle.”

  “You don’t talk to me,” Big John growled.

  “I’m just trying to help—”

  Big John whirled around, his cheeks quivering. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Easy, man,” Peño said. “You guys are on the same team, remember?”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Twig replied. “You looked like you could use a hand.”

  Rain flinched. That wasn’t a wise thing to say to Big John.

  Big John lurched forward and shoved Twig, who went down hard on his tailbone. Peño took a running jump onto Big John’s back, wrapping his arms and legs around him in a
bear hug.

  “Down, boy!” Peño shouted.

  Big John ignored him and started forward. His entire body was trembling with rage.

  “I don’t need your help!” he said. “You think you got the answers, huh? Rich boy out the burbs. New shoes. New cell phone. You don’t belong here. You didn’t earn it.”

  Rain glanced at Twig. What Big John said was true enough. Twig was from the wealthier northern district, where the houses had grass and the cars worked and the streetlights turned on at night. In the Bottom, the northern district was where the most affluent people lived—the ones who wanted to get out of the Bottom but were trapped by the boundary. Rain’s dad used to call them the “Before Bottoms”—the ones who didn’t quite belong.

  Rain stared enviously at Twig’s shoes—crisp white, high-top, self-tying, the newest ones on the market. Of course he had them. He had everything he wanted. Rain’s were already scuffed, the soles worn, the laces thinning and threadbare. Part of him agreed with Big John.

  Twig didn’t belong here.

  Big John was still advancing, carrying Peño on his back. A-Wall and Jerome grabbed his arms as he reached for Twig. Big John strained against all three of them, raging.

  Twig climbed back to his feet. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know where I go after practice?” Big John said, spitting. “To work. Two jobs. And we still can’t pay all the bills. You ever spent a week in the dark ’cause you can’t pay for no lights? You ever pick the mold off your food ’cause you got nothing else? You ever hold your mama in blankets ’cause you can’t afford no doctor?”

  “I . . .”

  “This is all I got!” Big John shouted. “And you took it from me!”

  Rain heard Big John’s voice cracking, threatening tears.

  Twig hesitated. “Freddy decided on who starts. It’s just a strategy thing—”

  That set Big John off again. He surged forward, his left hand balled into a fist.