Training Camp

by Kobe Bryant

  “Yeah, I see it,” he said. “I had to open my big mouth.”

  “Charge!” Lab shouted, pointing his arm like a sword, and the red team broke into a chaotic dash toward the fortress. Like the blue team, each attacking player was dressed in steel armor, except trimmed with crimson.

  Their boots clattered on the hardwood, and they formed a phalanx that immediately split apart. Vin charged right at Peño and Rain, shouting a war cry, and Rain spotted Reggie and Lab running for a bridge on the other side. They were doing exactly what he had expected—doubling up and trying to overwhelm a single defender. Someone weak. Twig. Rain had to move quickly.

  “Help!” Twig called, confirming Rain’s hunch.

  “Good luck!” Rain said to Peño, and then took off just as Vin and Peño slammed into each other.

  He sprinted up onto the first level—the armor was heavy but not overwhelming—and then he plunged down another ramp, where Twig was being steadily bowled backward under the combined assault of Reggie and Lab. Rain joined the fray, using the high ground to drive them all back down the ramp. Reggie broke off and hurried across the moat to attack elsewhere.

  Rain’s plan was working perfectly.

  “Keep pushing, Twig!” he said.

  Rain headed back up the ramp, sprinting around the castle to see where Reggie would re-emerge. Big John and Peño were still locked in one-on-one combat with A-Wall and Vin, both holding their ground, but Rain caught a glimpse of Jerome sliding up his ramp at an alarming pace. Jerome was facing the muscular Devon, and he was clearly outmatched. Rain hesitated, still not spotting Reggie.

  “A little help!” Jerome called, peeking over his shoulder.

  Rain realized he had no choice. Devon was almost through. Rain plunged down the ramp, halting the steady backward slide. Even with both of them and the higher ground, they were locked in an almost-even struggle. Devon was incredibly strong, driving his feet like the treads of an excavator.

  “Where was this on the court?” Rain said, but Devon just ignored him and pushed on.

  “I got two!” Peño cried. “I can’t hold them!”

  “Rain,” Jerome said, straining, “I need help . . .”

  But once again, Rain had no choice. He had to help Peño with the double-team.

  “Hold him, Jerome! You can do it!” Rain said, and then took off.

  Rain turned down Peño’s ramp. He didn’t have to go far. The two attackers—Vin and Reggie—were nearly through, and Peño’s feet were sliding as if he were on ice skates. Rain plowed into him, sandwiching the squat point guard, and together, they held their ground.

  “Push!” Rain shouted.

  “A-Wall just took off!” Big John said.

  “So did Lab!” Twig added.

  Reggie looked up, smiling.

  “Guys,” Jerome whimpered.

  Rain heard a pronounced thump and ran back up just in time to see Devon, A-Wall, and Lab stepping over Jerome, who was now lying flat on his back, dazed. The three red attackers broke for the final ramp . . . and only Rain was left to stop them. Devon took the lead, charging wildly.

  “Help me!” Rain said.

  He tried to block them. He set his legs, raised the pad, and closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. Devon was moving at full speed. It was like being hit by a locomotive.

  The impact sent him flying, and he slammed into a stone wall and crumpled. The red team hurried up the last ramp, and Devon hoisted the trophy to a chorus of cheers. Rain slowly stood up, his back aching, and scowled as the rest of the blue team gathered around him, quiet and sullen.

  “Don’t worry,” Rain muttered. “We’ll beat their time.”

  On cue, Rolabi’s voice cut over the cheering.

  “One minute and forty-seven seconds. Blue team, you will now attack.”

  “Let’s go,” Rain said.

  He led them across the moat, trying to understand how they had been defeated so easily.

  “That was tough,” Big John said.

  “Well, it’ll be the same for them,” Rain said. “If they want to play tricks, so can we.”

  He glanced back at the castle. The flags had all turned to crimson now, flapping in the same nonexistent wind. The blue team huddled together, and once again, Rain created the plan.

  He understood enough—the attackers got to choose. It was a game of offense.

  “All right, we have the advantage. We saw how it works. We can pick our matchups, so we’ll overpower them right away. Big John and I will go for Vin—easy prey. Twig, Jerome, and Peño will fake splitting up and then go at Reggie, unless he has help. Try and avoid Devon, A-Wall, and Lab. We’ll drive right through their weak spots and get that trophy.”

  Peño laughed. “We’ll have it in thirty seconds!”

  “What if they double both the entrances we attack?” Jerome asked.

  “Then another one is free!” Rain said. “This game is a trick. It’s impossible to defend the trophy.”

  They broke up and spread out into a line, waiting for the red team to take their places. None of them appeared at the ramps—clearly, they were still trying to organize a defense. Rain didn’t blame them. How could you possibly cover four ramps when the attackers could adjust and hit wherever it was going to hurt most?

  Rolabi is saying the offense drives the game, Rain thought.

  He could agree with that.

  “Begin!” Rolabi said.

  “They’re not set up yet!” Rain said. “Follow me in!”

  The blue team charged, and Rain grinned as they ran up the closest ramp unopposed. It was going to be an easy victory. He turned the corner, ready to head right for the trophy, and then stopped when he saw Devon waiting for them. The rest of Rain’s team plowed into his back.

  “What the—” Peño said.

  Devon was standing right at the base of the final ramp. The whole red team was lined up behind him, their pads pressed against one another like the links of a chain. They were blocking the last ramp as one unit. There was no way to reach the trophy. Rain had been totally outsmarted.

  But he wouldn’t admit defeat.

  “Push!” he shouted.

  His team collided with Devon, and though the red team slid back a little at first, the progress stopped almost immediately. Rain pushed with everything he had, but thanks to both Devon and the higher ground, the red team easily held the attackers back. The muscles in Rain’s legs burned. His body trembled. He clenched his teeth until he could feel pain in his jaw. But still he kept going.

  “It’s useless!” Big John said.

  “Keep pushing!” Rain cried. He slammed into Devon’s pad again, but the defense was as solid as the fortress itself.

  “Just leave it,” Big John said, letting off pressure. “We lost.”

  “No!” Rain said. “Harder!”

  “My legs—” Peño said.

  “Harder!” Rain demanded. He pushed with everything he had. Pain flared all across his body. It didn’t matter.

  After an agonizing minute or so, Devon and the rest of the red team pushed. Rain and his team fell backward into a tangle of limbs and angry shouts. Rain lay on the ground, gasping and defeated.

  “The time is beat,” Rolabi said. “The red team wins.”

  The red team cheered and hoisted the trophy. The flags disappeared, and the castle walls turned back to rubber. Even Rain’s glittering armor melted into plain polyester gym attire—secondhand shorts, his father’s tee. Both were ratty. The tee was moth-eaten. It was a reminder.

  Rain was always looking up. Always at the bottom.

  “The red team may grab some balls and shoot around,” Rolabi said. “Blue team, laps.”

  Rain climbed to his feet, refusing to look at his teammates. He had made the strategy . . . and it failed. Lately, it seemed he was failing at everything. A l
eader couldn’t lose to his own teammates—he had to be the best player. He had to control everything. He had to be above the others. And now he was watching from far below as half of his team hoisted a trophy.

  The blue team shuffled dejectedly down the ramp, stripped off their helmets, and started running. It was well over an hour before Twig hit a free throw, and by then, Rain was sopping wet and annoyed. He had insisted on taking three attempts . . . and then proceeded to miss them all.

  It was Twig who ended it. Twig.

  Rain couldn’t understand what was happening.

  He shuffled to the bench and chugged a full bottle of water. It had been even more infuriating watching the red team shoot around and work on their game. Running laps for this long was a waste of his time and talent. It was a cruel joke. He sat down and miserably rubbed the sweat from his eyes.

  “What was this drill about?” Rolabi asked.

  Both teams had gathered on the benches now, and the red team still looked smug. Rain glared at them. It should have been him with the trophy. It wasn’t his plan that let his blue teammates down . . . it was his teammates themselves. They didn’t push hard enough. They quit.

  “Team defense,” Peño muttered.

  “Yes. They played as a team,” Rolabi said calmly. “You did not.”

  Rain stood up, scowling. “So, what? You want us to stand in a group on the court?”

  “I want you to play as a unit, yes,” Rolabi said. “What are you protecting on defense?”

  “The net,” Reggie said immediately.

  Rolabi nodded and started for the fortress, his shoes rapping against the hardwood.

  “The blue team tried to protect the entire court. Team defense is about working together. You all must be tigers. You must be strong and fast and have great reflexes. That is how you stop your man. But if you do not work together to protect the net, you will be scored on regardless. The net is the trophy. Protect it.”

  Rolabi reached down to a small black cap set into the castle wall, grabbed it between thumb and index finger, and pulled it out. Cold air started to whistle out of the fortress so forcefully that Rain felt it on his face, even from twenty feet away. The air began to rush out more and more through the penny-size hole, and the entire towering structure began to fold in on itself. In moments, it had shrunk to the size of a basketball, and Rolabi dropped it in his bag.

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

  “Ready,” Reggie said.

  Rolabi nodded.

  Rain turned his attention to Reggie. Why was this guy taking the lead? Rain’s backup.

  If there is a void of leadership, it must be filled.

  I am the leader! Rain thought.

  Are you?

  “The same goes for the entire team,” Rolabi said, starting for the doors. “If you are not ready, we are wasting our time.”

  “Are we done for today?” Peño called after him.

  “That is up to you.”

  The doors burst open with a gust of cold wind, and the professor was gone.

  “What does that mean?” Jerome asked.

  “It means we can stay. We have balls,” Rain said. He figured he could at least get some shooting practice today. “Want to scrimmage?”

  “Look!” Lab shouted, pointing with a trembling finger.

  They all turned. The orb was floating in the middle of the court. As before, it seemed to warp in midair. The temperature cooled. The black orb changed again, forming a perfect oval.

  He saw something in it. A face. His own?

  What are you looking for?

  “What do we do?” Peño whispered.

  “Rolabi said we had to catch it,” A-Wall said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “He said we would be better basketball players if we did, remember?”

  Without warning, Twig made a dash for the orb. It zipped out of his way, and the spell was broken again. The whole team chased after it, waving their hands and shouting. Rain dove face-first for it and landed hard on his hip. Beside him, Lab and Peño ran right into each other.

  “Watch out!” Lab shouted.

  “You watch it!” Peño snapped in reply.

  The orb weaved around them for ten minutes in a dizzying pattern, taunting them. Then it flew like a cannonball toward the nearest wall and disappeared. Rain rubbed his sore right hip, scowling yet again. It felt like it was already bruising. He limped back to the bench.

  “Still up for that scrimmage?” Peño asked.

  Rain glowered and sat down. The failures had begun to sour his mood. “Nah. Let’s just get out of here.”

  “You all right?” Jerome asked Big John, who plopped onto the bench, massaging his ankle.

  “Rolled it,” Big John said. “Chasing some stupid orb.”

  “What do you think we’re going to do tomorrow?” Jerome asked. “Go to space?”

  “I have no idea,” Rain said. “Today was a total waste of time.”

  “A waste of time?” Reggie asked suddenly. “Why?”

  “Because he lost,” A-Wall said, grinning.

  The smirk was enough to put Rain’s temper over the edge. Did they all forget that he was the star of this team? Did they think it was easy? He had to take the big shots. Everyone was relying on Rain. Everything. He felt sudden pressure welling behind his eyes.

  It made him angrier.

  “Who cares!” Rain snapped. “What did that game have to do with basketball?”

  “Everything,” Reggie said. “It was about playing defense the right way. As a team.”

  “It was a stupid game. You play D by stopping the ball. And you win by scoring.” Rain tucked his shoes in his bag and stood up, staring down at Reggie. “By me scoring. And we aren’t getting any closer to winning by me not working on my shot. This is a big year for me.”

  “You mean for us,” Lab said quietly.

  Rain started for the doors, bag over his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Rain Adams and the West Bottom Badgers.”

  He stormed out of the gym and let the doors slam behind him. He was halfway across the parking lot before he felt guilty. And stupid. But he couldn’t go back and apologize. This was the Bottom. There was no magic, no apologies, no forgiveness. Only the tough could survive.

  He remembered who had told him that, and the tears spilled down after all.

  IT HAD BEEN a long night. Rain had stared at old family pictures and spun his basketball on one finger like a top. He had never felt more alone. He’d wished for the millionth time that he had a computer or a cell phone or a working TV and thought constantly about what he’d said. It had been harsh, but it was true. If they couldn’t see that, it wasn’t his fault.

  On the walk to Fairwood, Rain wondered what they were saying about him. Were they calling him selfish? Arrogant? Did it matter? How could anyone know what it was like to have his responsibilities? To need, to be expected, to get his family out of the Bottom? To bring them together? How could the other guys know the weight of that? They didn’t have to see Larry looking at photos of their dad when no one was looking. They didn’t have to see his mama struggling to work and pay the bills and take care of them alone. They didn’t have to see his dad walk out the door because it all wasn’t good enough. Rain got to the front doors and scowled.

  He didn’t need his teammates. Loneliness was fine. It led to greatness.

  He grabbed the doors, then paused. They were freshly painted . . . a clean emerald green. He pulled them open. There wasn’t a squeal or groan. They swung smoothly on brand-new hinges. And the gym was full.

  The scene was almost—blurred. Just at the edges, like a photo left out in the rain. The bleachers were packed, and a game was going on. The players looked different. Longer hair, smaller shorts. Fairwood was cleaner, newer. Rain noticed his favorite banner was missing.


  He stepped inside, watching the game. He made his way to the bleachers and sat down among the crowd. No one seemed to notice him. As he watched, he realized it was an old West Bottom team—the Braves. The team from his favorite banner. His father’s team.

  And there was a star out there.

  One boy was clearly dominant. He moved with purpose on the court, always a step ahead, his eyes tracking everything. Crisp passes. Tight handles. He hit one shot after another. As he drained a third jumper in a row, he turned to the crowd and pumped a fist. His eyes . . .

  “Dad?” Rain whispered.

  The boy turned away. Rain stood up, watching as the boy dominated. He was incredible.

  Rain couldn’t take it any longer. He walked onto the court and tried to grab hold of his father, but his hand passed right through his shoulder. The boy’s features blurred, and the whole scene turned into mist. Rain spun around, trying to find the familiar face. He waded through the fog.

  “Dad!” Rain said.

  But it was all gone. The current-day Badgers sat on the benches, not even noticing him.

  Rain took a last look around. Why had he seen that game? Was that really the way his father played? He had been amazing. Rain’s equal. Maybe even better. He’d never told Rain that he was that good. Why? And if he was so good, why hadn’t he made it anywhere?

  Rain sat down on the away bench for the first time in his life. It wobbled beneath him, threatening to tip. Twig nodded at him, and he heard a few muttered comments from the others.

  “Look who it is . . .” someone said.

  Rain glared at them and put his shoes on in silence. They could say what they wanted. He was the star here. Everyone knew it. Rain took the ball out of his duffel. The crumpled note was lying beneath it, and for some reason, he was tempted to read it for the first time in weeks. But not here—not in front of Twig. He left it at the bottom of his bag.

  “How you feeling today?” Twig asked suddenly.

  Rain looked at him in surprise. “Fine. You?”

  “Nervous, I guess,” Twig said. “Don’t know what to expect.”

  Rain snorted. “Yeah, it’s been crazy, all right. Since when do you talk?”