by Kobe Bryant
“Peño . . .” Lab said furiously. “We didn’t even talk about it—”
Peño glared at him. Lab knew that look. That stubborn, obstinate glare.
“Don’t argue with me.”
“But—”
“Don’t even think for a moment I’m leaving you. Now . . .”
Lab stared at him. He knew Peño would never reach for the orb first. He would never leave him behind.
“I can’t just leave you either,” Lab said, tasting tears and sweat.
“I’ll be fine!” Peño said. “Now use those extra three inches and jump!”
Lab looked to his right. The wall was so close, he could almost touch it. “Peño . . .”
“One . . . two . . . three!” Peño shouted. “Go!”
Lab stepped onto Peño’s hands and leapt with everything he had, tears streaming down his face. He felt Peño drive him upward as well, and he flew dangerously over the wreckage of steel, knowing that a miss would kill them all. For a moment, he thought he wouldn’t make it.
And then his fingers closed on the orb, and he was gone.
Lab was now standing in an empty room. The plain concrete floor stretched off in all directions until it was swallowed by darkness. He looked around warily. Somehow, it almost seemed . . . familiar here. He knew this place, but he wasn’t sure how. He started walking, and a spotlight moved with him, though it seemed to have no source. Finally, he heard an urgent voice.
“Get your stuff on, Lab—”
“What is it?” a groggy voice asked.
“Your mother—hurry up.”
Images appeared in the darkness. Two boys and their father getting into their rusty car. Speeding through the night. Hurrying down a white corridor like the one he’d just escaped. There was commotion. Someone crying. The image suddenly became clear. A younger Lab sitting on those metal chairs while Peño and their father waited by the bedside. Her bedside. Mama. Mama was in there.
Lab peeked through the open door. Peño had his hands wrapped around hers, even as the nurses were working frantically. His mama lay still, head to the side, eyes closed. There was no heartbeat. Peño was sobbing.
The younger Lab in the hallway finally stood up and walked into the room.
“Mama,” he said, eyes flooding with tears.
He hadn’t been there for her when she died. He had stayed in the hall, unable to face her pain. He had let her down, right in the end. His mama.
The younger Lab threw himself over his mama’s legs, and his dad was grabbing him and Peño too. Lab fell on his knees as he watched. The hospital faded to dark and a million images went by, like photographs floating through the blackness. Every second he’d had with his mama. The singing and the stories and walking down the street behind her while her scarf fluttered in the wind. The photos swirled around him like flakes in a snow globe, and he screamed and covered his ears. It was too much. This was the place. This was where he had been hiding it.
The floor began to vibrate, and the flakes vanished, and he was inside his memories again. Lab saw himself sitting alone on his bed, staring at his hands. He saw himself avoiding his friends. Picking at his food and excusing himself from dinner. Smelling the last bit of her perfume when no one was around. Distant words emerged with his voice: I let them all down.
Cold water spilled over the floor, rising past his legs.
He had been dreading coming here, but he realized it was all so familiar. He had been in this place for three years. Lab lived in this hiding place. So many mornings he felt sick to his stomach and didn’t want to get out of bed. So many nights he just wanted to sleep because it was a break from his mind. His energy had faded away. His smile had faded away. He was watching it happen one quiet scene at a time.
“I want it to end,” he whispered.
“No,” a voice said. “You want the pain to end. That is different.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“You choose to live here,” Rolabi said. “Why?”
Lab thought about that. “Because . . . because of my mom.”
“That was the start. The loss of a loved one is a powerful catalyst—for good or ill. But you created the dark room for a reason. You are hiding things here. You are hiding here. Why?”
More scenes rolled by. More days and nights alone. More guilt and more . . . shame.
“Because I couldn’t handle the memories.”
“No, deeper than that. Why won’t you take the last shot, Lab?”
Lab looked at him, frowning. “What does that have to do with—”
“When the buzzer sounds, you don’t want to shoot. Why?”
Lab thought back to the vision he’d had the first day of training. The ball in his hands, his mother telling him to shoot, the rage of the crowd when he failed. It was true. He was petrified of the final shot.
“Because I started to feel like I was letting everyone down,” he murmured. “My mama . . . we were so close. She needed me. But I wasn’t there.” He was racked by a sob. “She died, and I wasn’t there.”
“When we are in pain, we want to take the blame. We want to take back control.”
“I let her down!” Lab shouted. “You saw it, didn’t you? She—”
“Knew you loved her. You were all with her, inside the room or not. You remain so.”
Lab broke down, burying his face in his hands.
“What is the heart of this place?” Rolabi said gently. “What do you fear?”
Lab was quiet for a moment. “That . . . that I will always let people down.”
“That is how fear works,” Rolabi said. “It grows constantly if not confronted. That which you push away comes back when you are not ready. You relinquish control of your fears.”
Lab wiped his nose. “How I am supposed to change—”
“Take small steps forward. Do not wake up expecting happiness every day. Wake up expecting your fears to return. Accept that they are part of you, and in time, they will lose their power to harm you. Take the harder road.”
He laid a hand on Lab’s shoulder.
“Everyone needs help. Bear no guilt, Lab. No shame. All that weight is sinking you.”
Lab started to sob. Rolabi put a firm hand on his back, waiting patiently for him to stop.
Lab’s whole body convulsed. Tears spilled out.
“What did you see in all these moments?” Rolabi asked. “Who are you truly letting down?”
Lab lowered his hands. One of his memories had frozen, like he had pressed pause.
He saw himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He saw himself watching Peño with his friends from their bedroom window, wondering why he didn’t want to join them. He passed away the last shots. Walked on defense to avoid being beaten.
“Myself,” he whispered.
“When we live in the dark room, there can be no other way,” Rolabi said. “You are not alone, Lab. I am here. Your father is here. Your teammates. Your brother.” He turned Lab toward him. “It’s a long road back. But you can start walking now.”
Lab wiped his eyes. He had built this place to be alone. To hide in. The problem was that it was working too well. He was sinking inside of it. He was becoming his fear. Lab wasn’t sure he could leave it forever. Destroy his hiding spot. But for the moment, he was sick of this place.
“We can go,” Lab said.
The dark room vanished, and Lab was standing back in Fairwood. Peño rushed over and wrapped him in a hug, then pulled back, looking Lab over. He frowned at Lab’s tears.
“You all right?”
“Yeah,” Lab said. “I think I am.”
“What did you see?” Rain asked.
Lab glanced at him. He thought of the memories. The photos flying around him, reminders of all the pain and guilt and everything he had lost. But that was not all he saw.<
br />
He had also seen a way to move past them. And it started with leaving that dark room.
He turned to Rain. “The future.”
LAB STOOD IN front of the mirror. His hair was slicked back with water, falling halfway down his neck, beads dribbling down his face. He was thinking about last night. He had helped Peño with dinner. He’d organized his duffel bag and made his bed. They were little things, really, but they felt . . . different. Small steps that led somewhere. Somewhere he controlled.
But mostly, he stared at her picture. It had always been on the mantel—but ignored. Avoided. Last night Lab had held it. Stared at it. Remembered.
He had found more photos tucked away in drawers or closets. He put the one under his bed—the picture of his mama holding him as a toddler—on the nightstand. Another in his duffel bag. He fell asleep with yet another in his hands. He had let the memories flood over him until he felt like he would be carried away . . . but he wasn’t. All the guilt and pain remained, but he didn’t try to push them away. He saw now that he had been lying to himself when he pretended he could.
He didn’t have the power to forget those things, and he didn’t even want to anymore.
Lab ran his fingers over his face. He had the same high cheekbones as her. The same almond-colored eyes. Lab knew the pain was never going to leave. But he knew it wasn’t about that. It was what he did with it. It had been hard, but he wanted to see what came out of the fire.
As he turned to the door, he saw something written on the wall in silver ink.
Lab stared at it, thinking. He knew what the hole was, but what was he supposed to do now? Was it a riddle? As he watched, the question faded back into the paint, and he put it aside for later. He wasn’t sure, but maybe the answer would reveal itself today. He knew he had time.
When he reached the home bench, Lab plunked down next to Peño. They talked and joked as they put on their shoes and then went to warm up. As Lab shot around, he looked down and saw the silvery light coursing through his veins, pulsating. He stared at his glowing hands in wonder.
You have taken another step, a deep voice said.
What was it?
Vulnerability. When our fears are released, and faced, the grana comes with it.
What do I do now? Lab thought.
You prepare for the road ahead.
“Gather round,” Rolabi said, appearing at center court.
Lab put his ball away and hurried over, joining the group.
“All but one of you have caught the orb. Why?”
Lab glanced at his older brother—the last one to catch it. He wondered what Peño would face. What had the loss of their mother done to him? What did he have in his secret hiding place?
Vin frowned. “Because . . . you told us to?”
“But why?” Rolabi asked. “What did you find?”
“Our fears,” Reggie murmured.
Rolabi nodded and turned to the banners. “If one thing will stop you in life, it is that. To win, we must defeat our fears. For basketball . . . for everything.”
“But . . . we did, right?” Big John said.
“Fear is not so easily beaten,” Rolabi said. “It will return. You must be ready.” He opened his bag. “We have much to work on before the season. For today, we will review what we have learned so far.”
Lab heard a sudden scratching behind him.
“Twig, you know the drill,” Rolabi said.
He began to set up another obstacle course. He threw cones into different patterns, tossed out slender poles, and dumped more helmets and pads onto either side of the halfway line. He placed a ball at the top of either key, and Lab thought he saw a flash of clouds behind the net, like the ones that had hung above the tall, crumbling mountain. The lights flickered, and the team’s shadows rose up from the floor.
Lab watched, remembering when he had not so long ago refused to believe in magic. Now he grinned as the shadows started stretching, and as Kallo paced around the gym, and as one item after another came flying out of the bag and fell into perfect lines. He wondered what else grana could do.
They will come to find out.
Who? Lab said.
The room darkened. The other players fell into gray, and soon it was only Lab standing in a dull spotlight at center court and the shadows in the corners. One of the shadows stirred. A shape appeared, gray in the black, and strode out in the light. The sharp lines of his face took form, almost skull-like, and the sunken eyes remained shadowy. But Lab knew the face well.
Everyone in Dren did.
“There is no place for grana here,” President Talin said, his voice low and gravelly.
His dark eyes fell on Lab, freezing him in place.
“Take them!” he shouted.
The shadows closed in from all sides, and Lab was about to scream when the gym lights flared again, banishing all the shadows. He stood there, panting, looking warily around Fairwood. He thought back to Rolabi’s story about the Wizenards, and how they had been banned from Dren. President Talin. He didn’t want grana here. And the Badgers were using it.
He looked at Rolabi. The big man held his eyes.
No. But it must return anyway. And you must be the bearers.
Why? Lab thought.
Because you can. And you are going to change everything.
Lab glanced at his brother. He was afraid. Desperately so.
But he was also ready to change things.
“In a line,” Rolabi said.
It was the hardest drill of Lab’s life. It took five attempts before they hit a free throw, which meant they had run twenty-five laps before they even started. The floors shifted at every turn. Kallo pounced on them. The shadows challenged every shot. Lab met his own personal challenges: disappointed voices, flashing memories of the last few years, a crowd chanting that he was a failure. He pushed on, and the crowd began to quiet.
At one point, he came to the jump shot. The gym cleared instantly. It was him and the hoop and voices from all sides. Spectators counting down the clock. Three . . . two . . .
He felt the familiar pressure. The thought that he would let them down. That he could only let people down. But then he breathed. He had only a second. He slowed it in his mind. He felt his breath, and the ball in his hand, and he thought of nothing but the shot. The voices faded away.
The shooter who masters time does not fear the moment.
Lab took the shot and hit it, and the gym returned again. He stood there, panting, feeling like he had won a playoff game. The others were running around, facing their own challenges, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Peño pounce onto the black orb and disappear.
Rolabi called the drill to a halt, and the team launched into discussion. Lab was only half listening—he was wondering what was in Peño’s room. Whatever it was, Lab would be there to talk, if Peño wanted.
Almost on cue, Peño popped back into the gym.
“Good, bro?” Lab said, relieved.
“All good, man,” Peño said, giving him props.
The team suddenly burst into laughter, and Lab joined in. He hadn’t even heard the joke, but for some reason he laughed anyway, and kept laughing, hard enough that his sides hurt. He felt like the whole experience, all the ridiculous, impossible things, were all pouring out of him.
“Twig telling jokes,” Peño said. “What’s next?”
Peño started beatboxing, clearly preparing himself for a freestyle.
Lab rubbed his forehead. “Not again.”
Lab stared at his brother in amazement.
And then chaos broke loose as everyone crowded around Peño. Lab jumped in, and he grabbed Peño’s shoulders and shook him, laughing wildly.
“You aren’t the world’s worst freestyler anymore!” he shouted.
“Hey!” Peño said.
Rola
bi picked up his medicine bag and headed for the doors.
“I thought you said we still have a puzzle to solve?” Rain called after him.
“You do,” Rolabi said. “One for each of you. And by the way, welcome to the Badgers.”
He walked out to an uproarious cheer, and then the Badgers headed for the benches. Lab sat down and slipped off his shoes. He thought back to the words on the bathroom door. The riddle. Rolabi’s last puzzle for him:
What is the first thing you do when you climb out of a hole?
Lab slowly put his shoes away. Stretch? Look for food? Enjoy the sunshine? None of it felt right.
He looked at his teammates again. He thought of Vin asking if he would come to the park and help him with some bullies. He thought of Big John struggling with two jobs. He thought of Peño, and how Lab hadn’t even known that his own brother was hurting. He had been weighing himself down so far, isolating himself so much, that he couldn’t see what they were all going through.
Lab knew the place below sadness. He had been living there for ages. He had been in the hole. And just like that, he knew the answer to the silvery question on the wall.
The first thing to do was turn back and help the next person climb out.
Lab smiled. He could do that. He could take the next step on his road.
When the team had finished changing their clothes and zipping their bags, they all stood up together and headed for the doors. Rain was first, holding the door, while Peño let everyone else go ahead. The afternoon sunshine grew brilliant, the door wide, and Lab walked through, smiling. He knew there was trouble coming. He knew that this would not be a normal season.
But he was with the team, and the light was back again, and he was ready for anything.
EPILOGUE
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
NO ONE WAS talking. Reggie felt the sweat beading on his forehead.
The last two months had flown by in a haze of sweat. They had faced many challenges, real and magical, and now the season had come. A Friday night in Fairwood Community Center, and it was packed. Every spot in the bleachers was full. More spectators were standing along the walls.
