by Kobe Bryant
“Perfect,” A-Wall murmured.
“Rain,” Rolabi said. “Step forward.”
Peño turned to Rain, alarmed. Was Rolabi going to feed him to the tiger? Did he blame Rain for the firing attempt? Peño chewed his nails. It had technically been his idea. Should he say so?
Rain paused. “Yes?”
Rolabi opened his purse and fished out a ball with the now-familiar blue-and-white W on the side. He rolled it to center court, where it stopped perfectly on the black dot.
“I don’t like where this is going,” Peño said.
“Tiger food,” Vin said numbly.
“The drill is simple,” Rolabi said. “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.”
Rain looked at him in disbelief. “What? I’m not going near that thing.”
Kallo’s eyes flashed reproachfully, and Peño took another involuntary step backward.
“Maybe don’t call her a thing,” he suggested.
Kallo began to walk back and forth, showing off her intimidating musculature. She moved with a silky grace, every step soundless on the hardwood.
Yep, the tiger is going to kill Rain, Peño thought.
Rain clearly had the same thought. “Okay, I get it,” he gushed. “I’m sorry we asked Freddy to fire you.”
“We? ” Reggie said.
“This is not a punishment,” Rolabi said. “It is a drill. Now get the ball.”
“But—” Rain started.
“A true defender must be a tiger. The first one to get the ball gets their hand back.”
Peño glanced at Rolabi. He had told Peño to earn his hand back. Peño took a deep breath and tried to summon his courage. Maybe this was his chance.
Rain stood facing the tiger, clearly caught between two minds: look like a coward and leave or face possible mauling and death. Peño figured it was an easy choice, but Rain was proud, and Rolabi had already made it clear that if anyone left the training camp, they were off the team. He didn’t seem like the type to make empty threats. And that would be a problem.
There were no Badgers without Rain. If he left, the team would probably fold. Peño shuddered at the thought of life without basketball. Could he even make it onto another team? Would the East Bottom Bandits take him on? The thought of joining their archenemy made his skin crawl. Would he have to back up Lio?
Do it, Rain, Peño thought. Get the ball.
Almost as if on cue, Rain made his move. He was quick, but Kallo was faster. In a flash of orange, she was on top of him, her huge paws resting on either shoulder. Rain didn’t move, and a surge of guilt and panic flooded through Peño.
“She killed him!” he shrieked in a much higher voice than he had intended.
“I’m fine,” Rain muttered, climbing to his feet. “She didn’t hurt me.”
Peño slumped in relief.
“Nice squeak,” A-Wall said.
“Shut up.”
“Devon,” Rolabi said.
Peño was the fourth to go. Rain, Devon, and Vin all seemed to have survived their attempts without any injuries, so he stepped forward, sweating profusely. Kallo watched him like he was a delicious gazelle drinking peacefully at the riverside. Peño felt like one at the moment.
“Please don’t eat me,” he whispered. “I would taste awful. I love spicy food.”
Kallo only smiled, revealing her long fangs.
“Not helpful,” Peño said. He jumped up and down on his toes, trying to pump himself up. “Get the ball, get your hand,” he said. “Easy-peasy. No problem. I got it. I’m the man. The—”
“Just go,” Vin said, groaning.
Peño tried a classic double fake—right, left, right—but Kallo wasn’t fooled. He felt something collide with him and was soon staring up at an awful lot of teeth. He closed his eyes, but all he felt was a tongue wash over his face, coarse and prickly, and then Kallo stepped off.
“Am I dead?” he whispered.
“Not yet,” Rolabi said, which was no consolation at all.
His brother went next, and when Lab got his own victorious lick across the forehead, Peño laughed at his obvious disgust. It served him right for being so cranky lately.
“Like you did any better,” Lab snarled.
“I did,” Peño said. “And I wasn’t shaking like a leaf either.”
“Leaves don’t shake,” Lab said, folding his arms.
Peño scowled. “It’s a common expression.”
“You’re a common expression,” Lab snapped.
“Grow up.”
“Why, so I can be a washout like you?” Lab said.
“I’m literally one year older than you.”
“And three years worse at ball,” Lab replied.
That one hurt. Peño shot him a dark look and turned away, feeling his cheeks burning. They could joke about those things, but it was different when Lab meant it. Especially since it was true. Lab was the better prospect. Peño could talk a big game, but Lab was taller and more athletic and had a real shot at playing at the next level. Peño was facing much longer odds, and that fact kept him up at night.
Kallo kept knocking down Badger after Badger. When it was Big John’s turn to face her, he shook his head. Despite the urging of the team, he folded his arms and refused. And then Twig decided to get involved, which was a really, really bad idea.
“I’m just trying to help—” Twig said.
Peño rubbed his forehead. Now Twig decided to speak? He could already see Big John tensing up—his left hand clenched into a fist, his chest swelling up. There was trouble brewing.
“Easy, man,” Peño said. “You guys are on the same team, remember?”
“You think you’re a big tough guy now, or what?” Big John asked.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Twig said. “You looked like you could use a hand.”
That did it. Big John shoved Twig and sent him toppling backward. Big John stepped forward, clearly about to start pummeling him into sawdust. Peño froze for a moment. He was the smallest player on the team and probably the least equipped to jump in. But Rolabi had told him to help the other players, and he suspected that having Twig become a fleshy paste was not what he had in mind. So he took a breath and flung himself onto Big John’s back, linking his arms and legs around him like a chain. He winced as Big John kept going, straining to hold him.
“Down, boy!” Peño shouted.
A-Wall and Jerome each grabbed one of Big John’s arms—Peño was just along for the ride. Big John’s rage made his whole body shake and spittle fly out like a sprinkler. Peño tried to squeeze harder, but he had been reduced to little more than a backpack.
“You know where I go after practice?” Big John said. “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?”
Peño frowned. He didn’t know that either. Most of the guys on the team dealt with poverty, but he thought only A-Wall was working. And for all their issues, his dad had never let the lights go off. He had thought he and Lab had it as bad as anyone. Clearly he had been wrong.
“I—” Twig said.
“This is all I got!” Big John screamed. “And you took it from me!”
It sounded like Big John was crying. Peño had never seen him cry before.
“Freddy decided on who starts,” Twig said. “It’s just a strategy thing—”
Big John charged, and Peño knew he couldn’t stop him, not even with A-Wall and Jerome’s help.
“Twig, run!” he said.
Big John started to close the distance—Peño still strapped to him like a backpack, and A-Wall and Jerome holding his arms—and then their forward progress was abruptly halted. A massive hand grabbed Big Jo
hn’s shoulder and proceeded to lift all four of them off the ground with the ease of an industrial crane. A-Wall and Jerome dropped off right away, but Peño was so stunned that he held on, his eyes widening as Rolabi spun both Peño and Big John around to face him.
“Do you know why you are angry?” Rolabi asked.
Big John struggled for a moment, but it was useless.
“Do you?” Rolabi asked.
“Because he got into my business!” Big John said.
“Because you are afraid.”
He lowered Big John to the ground, and Peño hopped off, relieved. He dusted his shoulders off and puffed his chest, eliciting a few snickers from the others.
“You’re an idiot,” Lab whispered.
“You mean hero?” he said.
“Fear is the root of anger and violence,” Rolabi said. “It has made your choice for you. Fear of not being enough. Blame for the causes. But I value honesty. I will forgive the violence once.”
“I’m done here,” Big John snarled. “I’m done with this stupid training.”
“You know the consequences of leaving.”
Big John started for his bag. “I don’t care.”
“Ten minutes in the locker room.”
Big John hesitated, and then looked back at Rolabi. “What?”
“Go look at your reflection for ten minutes. Ask yourself carefully if you want to leave the team. Then decide.”
Big John looked for a moment like he might argue. Then he stormed into the locker room and slammed the door so hard, the walls shook. The door was having a really bad day.
Peño stared at it for a moment, ignoring the ensuing conversations. He hadn’t known about the two jobs, or the lights, or anything about Big John really. He just assumed he was a loudmouth. But he had heard the cracks in his voice. Felt the tremors as he held on to his body. He had said, “You took it from me.” Peño felt a pang of sympathy. Of course. Big John came from the worst neighborhood in the Bottom. His family was broken. He obviously thought he could get his family out of the Bottom with ball, and then Twig came along and took his starting spot. That’s why he hated him. Peño rubbed his forehead. What else had he been missing?
Keep breaking down the wall.
Peño looked down. His hand was back, and he cradled it to his chest. The gym filled with cheers, and he turned and high-fived Vin before hugging his hand once again.
“Sweet, sweet right hand,” he said. “Never leave me again.”
“Why couldn’t you get past her?” Rolabi asked the team.
“Because she’s a tiger,” Peño muttered. He flexed his fingers, meeting Lab’s eyes across the group. Lab instantly turned away.
Rolabi said something about reflexes and flicked a button off Twig’s forehead.
“Reflexes are natural,” Peño said. “You’re born with them.”
“We are also born with legs, but we must learn how to run,” Rolabi replied, turning to him. “Your reflexes can be honed. They are a direct, unthinking connection to your brain. A measure of nerves and awareness and alertness. Train them. Training tells your brain to stay prepared.”
“My brain is always prepared,” Peño said. “I’m more worried about them.” He nodded toward his teammates.
He vaguely saw Rolabi’s finger move before a second button bounced between his own eyes.
Peño paused. “I would like to retract my statement.”
“What is that?” Jerome asked suddenly.
Peño followed his gaze and stiffened. All of his blood ran cold. A black ball was floating in the middle of the gym. It kept shifting as he watched, like a glob of oil suspended in water.
“What . . . what is it?” Peño murmured.
“That is something you all will want to catch,” Rolabi said. “No, it is something you all must catch. We can call it the orb for reference. Whoever catches it will become a far better player. But it won’t last forever. If no one catches it, we run laps.” He nodded to the orb. “Go!”
Peño joined the pursuit. The orb pinged around between the players, always just out of reach. Twice Peño almost had it, and twice it whizzed away before he could close his fingers. As they scrambled and tripped and shouted in frustration, Kallo jumped up like a missile and swallowed it whole, smiling again as she sat down.
“A true defender,” Rolabi said. “Get some water. Laps and free throws.”
Peño sighed. “My favorite.”
The laps started again, with the floor shifting at every turn. Peño missed his free throw, jerking when a cruel voice in his ear said, “Remember Peño? Whatever happened to that kid?” They kept running for an exhausting forty-five laps until Twig hit a free throw and ended the drill.
Peño doubled over. “This is not cool,” he managed, hands on his knees.
“It’s a start,” Rolabi said.
“A start?” Lab asked incredulously. “I’m about to keel over.”
“Tomorrow we will work on team defense,” Rolabi said. “Get some rest tonight.”
With that, he headed for the front doors with Kallo.
Peño watched them, frowning. “Are . . . are you taking the tiger?”
As usual, Rolabi ignored him. The front doors swung open, accompanied by a blast of frigid winter wind, and the two of them walked out into the sunshine. If Peño didn’t know better, he could have sworn that they were talking.
“He should really learn how to say goodbye,” Peño grumbled.
He made his way to the bench and sat down with a sickly, squishy plop. He felt like a dirty dishrag. As he unlaced his shoes, thankfully with both hands, he shook his head.
“We practiced with a tiger today,” he said.
Jerome was the first to laugh. It spread from there, and soon the whole team was roaring, Peño included. His sides ached. Their training was so ridiculous and impossible and strange that it seemed like he couldn’t do anything else. He glanced at Lab, but his brother was scowling.
“Drop some lines, Peño,” Jerome said.
Peño scratched his neck, trying to think.
Just don’t use Badgers, he reminded himself, and launched into a verse.
He finished by pointing to the banners, flexing with his free arm, and the team folded into laughter.
Peño was putting his shoes in his bag when his brother got up and headed for the door. Peño stiffened. In all their years of ball, they had never walked home separately. It seemed almost unthinkable. Peño was stunned. Clearly this wasn’t one of their usual, everyday fights.
But why? Because Peño had called him a complainer? It didn’t make any sense.
As he pushed open the doors, Lab glanced back. Peño didn’t bother to hide his dismay, and still his brother walked out. The doors slammed shut behind him, and Peño sat there, deeply troubled. For some reason, he pictured the still lake and the small sinking rowboat.
“Lab?” he whispered.
THE NEXT MORNING, Peño looked back at his brother, who was walking about ten steps behind him and wearing a very sour expression. They hadn’t spoken to each other since yesterday, which wasn’t easy, since they shared a tiny bedroom. Peño had thought about apologizing, and thought about the boat, but it was hard when Lab was constantly shooting him dirty looks or making comments under his breath:
“ . . . fade isn’t even cool.”
“ . . . nice ’stache . . .”
“ . . . freestyling . . . awful . . . snored all night long . . .”
Peño had given up. He hadn’t woken up Lab as he had every morning for the last three years, and Lab had barely gotten up in time for practice. He had missed his breakfast and the short, cold shower allowed by their water tank, and he looked exhausted. His hair was in a messy Mohawk.
It’s what he deserves, Peño thought. Maybe he will appreciate what I do for him.
; Somehow, he doubted that was what Lab was thinking. It looked more like he was considering tripping Peño when he wasn’t looking.
Peño walked into the gym and let the doors close behind him out of spite. They swung shut, clattering against the loose door frame, and Peño realized Fairwood was empty. Sort of.
There was a castle sitting on the court.
It was gray, like weathered stone, and wrapped with ten-foot walls. Ramps opened at each corner, each leading up to an open level. A final ramp reached from that level to a tower in the center. And there, sitting grandly atop the whole structure, was the Elite Youth League national championship trophy. Peño stiffened. He knew that trophy well. He stared at a photo of it every single night. He had ripped it out of a magazine years earlier, and he still kept it beside his bed.
“What is basketball to you, Peño?”
Peño yelped and spun around. Rolabi was standing beside the doors.
“Oh man . . . you scared me. Where is everyone? Why is that castle there?”
“What is basketball to you?” Rolabi repeated. “The sport itself. What is it to you?”
Peño looked up at him, thinking. “It’s everything.”
“Why?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I love it. I always have.”
“What is your favorite part?”
Peño paused. For some reason, he felt his gaze drift to the bench, and he realized how strange and empty it felt without his teammates. Just like that, the question was answered.
“The friendships,” he said softly.
Rolabi followed his gaze. “A fine reason. Remind your teammates of it if the road should change.”
“What road?” Peño asked, frowning. “The one you are on. But if you are to walk it, you must find your strength.”
“I am strong,” Peño said.
“No,” Rolabi replied, “you are forgetting what the strongest must always remember.”
“What?”
“That sometimes it is okay to be weak.”
Peño caught a flicker of movement and spotted Reggie. “Where is my brother?”
“He is next.”
Peño shook his head and went to join Reggie. What was Rolabi talking about this time? Why would a strong person ever be weak? It didn’t make any sense. If he let his guard down, he might let his brother down, and his dad, and his mom from wherever she was watching. He had to always be strong.
