Page 8

CHAPTER 8

MARCUS, AGE 18

"Do you have snacks for the road? Something more than Red Bull and Sour Patch Kids?"

"Yes, Mom. I've got snacks. It’s only a four-hour drive. I'm not going to starve or fall asleep at the wheel driving through the night, or whatever other worst-case scenario you've conjured in your head. I'm going to be fine. I'll text you if I make any stops, and I'll call you when I get there."

"Video chat," she amends, like this is a hostage negotiation.

"Fine," I say through a laugh. "I'll video chat you. Then you can see my dorm and everything."

"I can't believe my baby is leaving for college," she cries, not for the first time today. Wrapping her in my arms, she tucks her head, which only comes up to my shoulder these days, into my chest. It's a weird thing comforting the woman who used to comfort me the same way.

"I love you, Mama. And I'll check in often, I promise," I say, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

It'll be weird not living at home, but the truth is I've been on my own for a while now. Mom works most nights, and I've been busy with my job, college prep, and basketball. Well, I was . A lot has changed in the past year, but I'm ready to start back on my path. I have a plan, thanks to my mom's new boyfriend, Greg.

"I think this is the last of it." Greg says as he exits the house with a small box and sets it in the back of the car. The car he helped my mother buy for me. I'm still a little uncomfortable with it, but the savings I’ve been working on to be able to buy a car can now go towards paying for the rest of my room and board for Wake Prep. Luckily, junior college is a lot cheaper than a four-year school, since I only got a partial scholarship to play basketball.

I accept Greg's friendly pat on the shoulder and give him a grateful smile. "Thank you for everything," I tell him.

He's been instrumental in me not breaking down and giving up over losing all my prospects, helping me come up with a new plan to reach my goals. It'll take a little longer than it would have, but I have confidence that I can get there. I have my dad's work ethic and tenacity, and my mom and Greg behind me all the way, supporting my dreams. Greg is a professor at an elite private school I could never dream of affording. Cumberland Valley University is a big basketball school, and Greg is a super fan. He encouraged me to apply and even sent some of my game footage to a friend of his on the coaching staff. There was a brief moment I almost thought it could be a possibility, but that was before everything happened.

Watching my mother walk around and check the tires of the used crossover SUV, not for the first time, I look over at Greg.

"Take care of her?" He nods and gives me one of his signature comforting smiles.

I'm glad my mom has him. Although they've known each other for the past two years, she only agreed to start dating him a little over six months ago. It was strange at first, thinking of her being with anyone but my dad, but once I saw them talking together, I noticed how much he made her smile, something she hasn't done enough of since Dad died. So I encouraged her to go out with him. And I'm glad I did, because he's a really great guy. I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable moving away from home if she didn't have someone around. Not because she can't take care of herself, but because I don't want her to be lonely.

Figuring it’s probably time to rip the bandage off, I shake Greg’s hand and give my mom one last hug. She holds on extra tight for a few long moments before releasing me, tears streaking down her face.

"I'm proud of you," she says. "Dad would be, too." Before I can say anything about the way things ended for my senior year of high school, she holds up a hand. "He would have been proud that you're not giving up on your dreams. That you're not letting them win."

I don't say that they did win, considering I lost everything, and they lost nothing. But I don't. I promise to call when I get there, climb into the driver's seat, and drive away.

The drive to Wake Prep is easy, and I make good time. I head straight for the residence building, noticing that it's within walking distance of the sports complex. The dormitory is all students in the post-grad basketball program, so I'll get to know my teammates in close quarters. Everyone seems nice enough, waving and calling out hellos when I call Mom to give her the tour of my temporary new home. There are four bunks to a room, a kitchen, a common area with couches and a big television, and a communal bathroom. It's nothing fancy, but it'll do.

One way or another, I'm going to make this work.

"Yo, so what's your story?" Ollie Perkins, one of the other newbies to the Wake Prep team, asks me. The couch bounces as he flops down in the seat next to me, nearly tossing the pizza out of my hand. He's a boisterous guy, but seems friendly enough. I've noticed how freely he talks to everyone, pulling people into conversations and introducing people he just met like he's known them forever. He's one of those people that makes friends really easily, which is not a skill that I have.

"No story," I say, not wanting to get into it. It's not that I don't want to make friends or be social, I just don't want to talk about what brought me here instead of the NCAA Division One school I was being scouted for.

"Yeah. Nah. I call bullshit. I recognize you, man. That shit was on the news."

Blowing out a sigh to calm the rising anger inside me, I bite back any hint of attitude. "Then you already know and don't need to hear it from me."

Ollie cocks his head, studying me thoughtfully. "I have a feeling there's a lot more than what those Richie-riches were putting out. Y'all had a fight, that much was obvious, but only you got benched. The charges were dropped, and no one ever said why. They’re all flashing their new jerseys and getting announced on ESPN, but you're here, even though you were the number one prospect for a hot minute before all this went down."

"Seems like you know plenty."

He doesn't press, which I appreciate.

We go back to eating, but now it's quiet enough in the room to hear the television. The ESPN sportscasters are discussing incoming college basketball players and who they're expecting the most out of. Number one among them, of course, is Ashton James. Ranked top in the state and region, he's everyone’s favorite to go pro, the player to watch. He's expected to take on star player status right from the get-go. While the television plays clip after clip of his skills on the court, my mood grows darker.

The footage pauses at an opportune moment, right as Ashton and I are on the court together. It's from the last game I played, the same night everything changed. The night my entire future took a nosedive. On the screen, Ashton is looking over at me, a grin on his face like he knows something I don't. Not for the first time, I wonder if he orchestrated the whole thing. He certainly benefited from it, obviously. Because, as my new friend pointed out, he's there, and I'm here.

"Funny how he was able to keep his name out of all that trouble," Ollie says passively. I cut my eyes at him, and he shrugs. "Just sayin'. That was his bestie, right?"

After the fight, Kent Richards reported me for assault. He had originally listed Ashton James, Michael Forn, and Liam Drafe as witnesses when the charges were filed, but Ashton's name was magically dropped from that list when my high school coach provided security footage that proved it was four on one in that hallway. Not only did Ashton's involvement disappear, but the charges were quickly dropped. The damage was done, though. Because I was benched for the rest of the season, I dropped dramatically in the rankings. When the initial charges were leaked, Kent put himself in front of any camera he could find to paint himself as a victim. It seems money can buy you a good reputation when you can afford to hire a PR team to smooth over your involvement and paint the other party to look like the bad guy. Meanwhile, my reputation was dragged. No team wants a known troublemaker, no matter how good he is on the court.

"I heard their story that they walked up on you hitting Ashton and they stepped in to save the day. But other than Richard's busted nose and a black eye on one other guy, you were the only one with any injuries. Ashton was still looking as pretty as ever. Not a mark on him."

"Do you have a point?" I ask. While part of me is thankful that Ollie is apparently perceptive enough to catch on to details the rest of the world overlooked, he's attracted too much attention talking about this shit. Every other person in the room is facing us now, listening for me to say something.

"You never once spoke up for yourself. That Kent dude was talking shit all over social media, but you didn't say shit. Why's that?"

"There was no point," I answer sharply. "There's no point in talking about any of this. It happened. He's there, and I'm here. End of story."

"I'm just trying to help," Ollie says, as he stands to throw his trash away. "We're your teammates now, man. I just wanted to clear the air. I don't think you're the bad guy that asshole was making you out to be. And if whatever happened had anything to do with that rainbow sweatband you're wearing," he says, pointing to the television screen, "Just know I'm not down with that homophobic bullshit."

After weighing my words for a moment, I stand and look around at all the guys watching our interaction. My new teammates, like he said.

"Look, all you all need to know is that I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to work hard for a better future, the same as all of you."

Ollie nods thoughtfully, looking around at the other guys to see if they agree with whatever internal assessment he's made about my guilt or innocence. "We've got your back, Vell."

A few of the guys nod, one thumps me hard on the back.

"You know what, though? I'd pay good money to see whatever was in that security footage that big-shot Ashton James wanted to cover up so badly."

"It doesn't matter," I say, exasperated, but no longer angry.

I understand Ollie is sticking up for me, letting me know he's on my side. He grew up in a much rougher situation than I did and worked hard to get here. He wants us to come together as a team, to support each other on and off the court. If there's one thing we all share on this team, it's that we're the underdogs. And we're all hungry for the opportunities we can get through hard work and perseverance. Working together is how we're going to get there.