“You’ve gotten good, little bro,” said Junior.
“You too,” I said. “Those lightning bolts are pretty fierce.”
He vaporized a wall next to us with an electric bolt, just to show off. But when he did, the space behind it was crawling with angry cyborgs. We went to work, zapping and blasting. We’d both kind of mastered this game on our own, so now that we were together, we were an awesome team.
The action kind of slacked off toward the middle of the level. This was the part where we were supposed to find something for the end, like a clue or a piece of equipment. So we were sort of sifting through the wreckage and looking in boxes and behind doors. It gave us a little time to talk.
“Thanks, man,” I said. “I wouldn’t have gotten through that last part if you weren’t here.”
“Glad to help,” said Junior. “This is cool.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s nice to have someone else here, too.”
With nothing shooting at us at the moment, Junior risked a quick look over.
“You kind of have the run of the house these days, huh?” he said.
We finally found what we were looking for. It was a crazy laser that shot three beams, each a different color. Junior swapped out his lightning gun for this new weapon and tested it out a little. Right away, we knew this thing was going to come in handy in the final battle. I walked my guy over and picked up the electric-bolt gun, but what I was really doing was thinking of how to answer that last question.
“It’s like, I don’t know. It’s like sometimes I come home and I yell out, ‘Hello?’ Just to check, you know? And it’s like it practically echoes. Sometimes this little place feels like the Grand Canyon or some big old cave.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there, too,” Junior said. “That’s why I came home early.”
“Yeah?” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Dad’s busy season won’t last forever, so I can cut back my hours a little until it’s over.”
He paused, but it kind of seemed like he had something more to say, so I didn’t answer right away.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he said after a few moments, “but I kind of miss you guys sometimes.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I said, “but I kind of miss you guys, too.”
Right then, a huge space zombie filled the screen.
“Just don’t miss this guy!” Junior called out, but I was already taking aim. We leveled our weapons and blasted that sucker!
We kicked it into cruise control after that, heading for the big final battle these games always had at the end. As we went along, I filled him in on what had been going on. He already knew about the Overtime Invitational, of course, but I told him about the other tourney, my talk with Mom, and the rest of it.
He was quiet for a while, and I was worried he didn’t know what I was talking about. But he did. He knew exactly.
“I got some invitations like that when I was your age,” he said. “Your age and a little older, I guess.”
“Really?” I said.
He smiled: “How do you think I knew who Overtime was so quick?”
“You played in the Overtime Invitational?” I said. I was so surprised I took my eyes off the game. The only thing that saved me from being vaporized was that three-beamed laser of Junior’s.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t go. My friends didn’t get invitations. They weren’t as big or as good, and they didn’t want me to go without them.”
“Wow,” I said. Talk about hearing an echo.
“And the thing is, I let them talk me out of it.” He was still smiling, but it had changed. It was kind of a sad smile. “I didn’t go to that one or the ones after it. Pretty soon, the invitations stopped coming. Even today I still wonder what would’ve happened if I’d gone.”
We finally reached the big battle. For a few minutes, the only sounds were explosions on the screen and the sound of our fingers pounding the controllers. When the virtual smoke cleared, we’d finished the final level and I knew I’d made the right decision.
“I’m definitely going,” I said.
“You bet you are,” he said. “I’ll drive you there myself. But be careful. You’ve got to do your thing, but you don’t want to hurt anyone along the way. Those guys who talked me out of going? I might have some regrets, but they’re still my friends. They’re still some of my best friends.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Mike and Deuce have been my friends since forever. And they’re good guys.”
“Yeah, that’s the other half,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know, little bro. It’s tough. If only it were as easy as this game …”
We watched a funny little scene, with two cyborgs doing a dance as part of the on-screen victory celebration. One of them got dizzy and fell down and we both laughed. And right then, I realized something.
“Maybe it is that easy,” I said, putting my controller down and standing up. “Maybe that’s exactly it.”
“Huh?” said Junior, looking over at me.
“Thanks, man,” I said. “I’ll explain later. Right now, I gotta go!”
I hopped on my bike like it was a rocket. You can’t really burn rubber on a bike, but I at least warmed it up as I tore down the street. I was headed straight for the basketball court. Mike and Deuce were usually there on Wednesdays. But I wasn’t sure how long they’d stay, and it was already hours since school had let out. I put my head down and pedaled hard.
I reached the little park and biked right up the walkway to the court. A few squirrels had to jump for their lives, but I made it to the court in no time. I was relieved to see my friends. From the looks on their faces, it didn’t seem like the feeling was mutual.
“Well, look who’s here,” said Deuce, doing a little crossover dribble.
“I see him,” said Mike, shooting a lazy jumper.
I leaned my bike against the fence. “Hey, guys,” I said. “Just shootin’ around?”
“Yep,” said Deuce. “Doesn’t make much sense to practice for a three-on-three tourney with only two players.”
He’d been taking shots at me all week. And I’d been letting him because I felt bad. But it seemed ridiculous now. I just looked at him and kind of tilted my head, like, Really?
“So why you here anyway?” said Mike.
They were both listening. Deuce even picked up his dribble, waiting for my reply. I needed to say what I’d come here to say. I could give them a big speech, but it was so simple.
“So, you guys know Junior has a job after school, and I barely see him these days,” I said.
“Okay, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything,” said Deuce.
“Well, today he came home early and we finished up a video game together. It was cool.”
Deuce started dribbling again. He wasn’t talking, but the ball was saying, Get to the point. So I did.
“It reminded me of how much I like just hanging out with him. It reminded me that we’re brothers, but we’re boys, too.”
“Sounds like a real nice moment,” Deuce said. But he said it with a little smirk on his face like he didn’t really mean it.
“Let him talk, D,” said Mike. Mike and Junior were tight. They had that big-guy bond. Still, it was time to make my case.
“Well, that reminded me of how much fun it is to just hang out with you guys, too,” I said. “I was sitting there just playing around with my bro, and I realized that the three of us don’t really do that anymore.”
Deuce picked up his dribble again. He wasn’t smirking anymore. He had a look on his face like he was remembering something. I just needed to make sure he was remembering the right things.
“It’s like we’ve gotten so caught up in winning these tournaments …,” I began.
“That we forgot to just play the game,” said Mike. “Forgot to have fun.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I mean, I knew you guys would be here today because Wednesday is practice. But come on, practice? We used to be out
here just about every day. Because we loved playing.”
“Yeah,” said Mike. “You guys remember, we used to just come out here and mess around and play hoops until the sun went down?”
“I remember,” I said.
Now we both looked at Deuce.
“Yeah,” he said. “I remember.” And then he smiled. “I mean, it was only a few months ago.”
We all smiled. It seemed amazing that we’d gotten so serious so quickly.
“I mean, I like the tournaments,” I said. “But what I really like is hanging out and shooting some hoops with my friends. With you guys. It’s why I started playing in the first place.”
“Yeah,” said Mike. “Absolutely.”
“I’ve, uh, I’ve been kind of a jerk this week, huh?” said Deuce.
“You know what?” I said. “I remember a lot of things, but that part? I’ve already forgotten.”
Deuce and I slapped our hands together, and we squeezed tight.
“All right, you two,” said Mike. “Break it up before you hug.”
We all laughed.
“What d’ya say we just have some fun out here?” I said. “Like we used to?”
The numbers were still a little weird. All those hurt feelings didn’t feel far enough away to start banging into each other playing one-on-two or two-on-one. This whole week had been two-on-one! But it didn’t seem like we should be practicing for a tournament we weren’t going to either. I hit a crazy shot warming up, and that gave me an idea.
“Let’s play Crazy Horse,” I said.
“I don’t know,” said Deuce. “I loved that when I was, like, nine, but …”
“Come on,” I said. “It’s fun.”
We used to love to play H-O-R-S-E, where you all have to make the same shot or you get a letter, but we called this Crazy Horse because all the shots had to be crazy or they didn’t count. Plus, there were twice as many letters, so the games lasted longer.
“I’m in,” said Mike. “I’m gonna whup you guys.”
That challenge was enough for Deuce. “In your dreams!” he said. “I’ll go first.”
Right away, he went into his patented move.
“Oh, no!” I called out as soon as I saw him start spinning.
He spun fifteen times around to his left, then fifteen times to his right.
“I’m gonna lose my lunch just watching this!” said Mike. “Why’d we let him go first?”
“I forgot about this!” I said.
Deuce spun around thirty times total, all really fast. Then he stopped and launched a ten-foot jumper. It rattled around the rim and dropped in. Mike and I tried to match him, but we couldn’t. By the time we’d spun around all those times, we were way too dizzy. My shot barely even hit the backboard!
“These little guys spin like tops!” said Mike.
Just like that, he and I both had C and Deuce was in the lead. But it was a really good game after that because we all had things we did well. Deuce was a master of the quick moves. Mike spent so much time in the post that he could hit crazy shots in close. And I, well, I had some game myself.
But after a while, it wasn’t even about who was going to win. It was just about trying the craziest shots we could think of. It was about having fun. Half an hour later, I already had C-R-A-Z and now I had to match Mike’s shot. He’d hit a left-handed hook shot while hopping away from the hoop on his right foot. I was lucky to even get iron.
“You are now officially C-R-A-Z-Y!” said Mike.
“I think we all are,” I said, cracking up.
Deuce had been surprising me with his shots all game. Now he said something that surprised me more: “Just don’t try any of these at the Overtime Invitational.”
“You serious, man?” I said. We still hadn’t really talked about Saturday.
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a little. “It would be crazy not to go to something like that. I guess I was a little mad when I thought you were big-timing us. But we’re friends first. If we can still hang out and play hoops and have fun afterward, I don’t mind you being a little big-time.”
“So you won’t be mad if I play in the invitational?” I said.
Now Mike spoke up. “Now that I really think about it,” he said. “I think we’d be mad if you didn’t.”
I looked at both of them: Mike and Deuce, my best friends.
“You guys better give me some space right now,” I said.
“Why’s that?” said Deuce.
“’Cause otherwise I really will hug you,” I said.
“Run for the hills!” cried Mike.
But none of us ran anywhere. It’s impossible to run when you’re laughing that hard.
“What about you guys?” I said after we’d finally gotten back to the game.
“I don’t know,” said Deuce. “Maybe we’ll come watch you.”
I thought about it. “Nah,” I said. “I think I’ve got a better idea.”
Dad and Junior both took Saturday morning off to come watch the tournament.
“Thanks for coming,” I said as the three of us rode along in the front of Dad’s big truck. “I know you guys are really busy right now.”
“Wouldn’t miss this one for the world,” said Dad. “Anyway, the extra guys I hired are good workers. They can keep things going for one day without the boss looking over their shoulders.”
“And I’m just here to make sure you don’t slack off,” Junior said with a smile.
“Yeah, great,” I said. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to have two bosses looking over my shoulders?”
We kept joking around like that the whole ride. I was a little nervous about my first big-time tournament, and it helped me relax. Knowing that my dad and brother would be there to support me helped, too. Pretty soon we were pulling into the lot.
“Good luck, STAT,” said Dad as I hopped down out of the truck.
“Go get ’em, little brother,” said Junior. “And don’t forget to have fun out there.”
As Dad wheeled the truck around the lot, hunting for the perfect spot, I headed for the sign-in table.
“Can I help you?” said the man sitting at the table.
“He’s one of the players,” said a voice behind me.
I wheeled around. It was Overtime.
“You ready, Amar’e?” he said, extending his hand.
“As I’ll ever be, Mr. Tanner,” I said, extending mine.
His handshake was strong from a thousand one-handed jams.
“You still have some time before the game,” he said. “I’d advise you to use it.”
He nodded over to the court, where a bunch of kids were already warming up. I signed in fast and headed straight over. Jammer was the only guy I recognized.
“Hey, man,” I said.
“What’s up?” he said.
“Amar’e, this is Khalid,” he said, nodding toward a short, stocky kid next to him. “Khalid, this is Amar’e.”
“Hey,” I said. Khalid nodded.
“He may look like half a tree trunk,” said Jammer. “But he’s one of the best passers you’ll ever see.”
“Really?” I said. I couldn’t help myself. This was our point guard? He was no taller than Deuce and not much thinner than Mike. Khalid laughed it off.
“I get that a lot,” he said. “You’ll see.”
“Our coach is over there,” said Jammer. “We’re waiting on the last few guys to start running some plays.”
Instead of a bunch of short three-on-three games, the Overtime Invitational was just one five-on-five game. It was forty minutes long: four ten-minute quarters with a halftime thrown in for us to catch our breath. Jammer, Khalid, and I headed over to our coach.
“You Amar’e?” he said when I arrived.
I nodded. I thought he’d introduce himself but he didn’t. “Yes, Coach,” I said.
“Okay, I’m lining you up at power forward,” he said. “Jammer will be the center.”
I looked over at Jam
mer. He had the height and the hops, but he was seriously mobile for a center. I guess Coach read my mind because he said, “We’re going to be fast out there. They won’t be able to match our speed.”
We all looked over at the group of kids assembling on the other side of the court: the other team. Then I snuck another quick look at Khalid. His speed? Really?
The other players arrived: a shooting guard named Brandon, a small forward named Eddie, a swingman type named Max. Coach told Max that he’d be starting the game on the bench but subbing in plenty.
“Our seventh guy has the flu,” said Coach. “So you’ll all have plenty of playing time.”
One sub and a forty-minute game? I was suddenly glad I’d been doing all that bike riding!
We started off working on some plays on our half of the court. Khalid was definitely quicker than he looked, but it was hard to tell. We were just running through things sort of three-quarter speed. I think Coach just wanted to see what each of us could do. I tried to stay focused, but I could hear the other team running plays, too. It was hard not to sneak looks over every now and then. We may have had a speed advantage, but they definitely had more size.
Which was more important? We were about to find out. A whistle blew three times at center court. It was time for the game to start!
It was weird not to be the one jumping on the opening tip. But considering what happened when I jumped against Jammer last time, I was happy to let him handle it. He won it cleanly and tipped the ball back to Khalid. Just like that, we were off and running.
“Speed! Speed! Speed!” called Coach, and Khalid didn’t disappoint. I was trailing perfectly on the play. I wish I could say I planned it that way, but I just didn’t realize how fast he really was. His stocky legs fired like pistons in a sports car. As the other team scrambled to close him off in the lane, he dropped it back to me. I had an open jumper just inside the free throw line, and I drained it.
“Way to go, STAT!” I heard my dad and brother cheer from the stands.
I pointed at Khalid as we headed back up court. He gave me a little nod that seemed to say told you so. I’m glad he was right, because the game was intense! The other team was a little bigger, but they were still fast. And we were a little quicker but still pretty big. Basically, both teams were stacked.
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