Training Camp

by Kobe Bryant

  “I can see too!” Jerome shouted, and then proceeded to miss the layup. “Never mind.”

  Peño cursed as they ran back on defense again, but before they could even get organized, A-Wall hit a layup. Peño bit his lip. They were falling behind. He was falling behind.

  Peño worked even harder. He fought for every ball. He put a hand on everyone who passed him, he talked relentlessly, and he listened with a studious ear . . . marking the positions of his team. He couldn’t see, so he had to visualize the game. It wasn’t perfect, but in time the game began to grow around him like a spiderweb. There were tendrils connecting each player. A movement on one end of the court created a ripple of reactions, and he had to track each one back to the center of the game.

  He soon realized that open shots were rewarded with restored vision. Contested shots were half-blind and mostly missed, so he had to find guys who were truly open. If he moved the ball fast enough, he could almost always find a good option. He had to seek out the true openings.

  “Water break,” Rolabi called.

  Peño shuffled over and gulped his water back.

  “Having fun yet?” Vin asked.

  “It’s not too bad,” he replied. “Dancing around you gets tiring, though.”

  Vin laughed. “How do you like my bench mob?”

  “They must be the starters now,” Peño said with false bravado. “Since I’m on their side.”

  The drill resumed, and Peño finished strong. He scored only a few baskets, but he guided the bench players to a fairly even scrimmage. He talked and directed and encouraged them through the little moments. Peño started to think that it wasn’t about winning the game—they had to win every single possession. Every second. And that was what he loved. Not the outcome.

  The fight.

  That is how you will lead them.

  “That will do,” Rolabi said. “Grab your bottles and join me in the center.”

  Peño’s vision returned to normal. He shook his head, spraying sweat everywhere.

  “Who won?” Peño asked. “I kind of lost track.”

  “Neither,” Rolabi said with something like approval, though it was always hard to decipher emotion in his baritone voice. “And both. Was that how you normally play?”

  Lab laughed. “Of course not. We were moving in slow motion.”

  “Speed is relative. To the fastest, everyone moves in slow motion. What else?”

  “We . . . we talked a lot. More than ever,” Twig said.

  Rolabi nodded. “True. Anything else?”

  “We spread the floor on offense,” Peño said, thinking back to the scrimmage. The outside options were always the clearest, so they were forced to spread the ball and not repeatedly attack the same direct lane to the hoop. “More passes around the lane. Kick outs and stuff.”

  “A natural choice when one cannot see his own path,” Rolabi said. “And lastly?”

  After a pause, Rain spoke. “We had to think about where everyone would be . . . and should be. We had to predict the game.”

  “Indeed,” Rolabi said. “We had to see more than our eyes allow. Now, I am owed some laps.”

  Peño grinned as the bench players took off, Vin in the lead. He had gotten the better of his backup in one of the drills, at least. But it wasn’t much of a punishment—they hit their first free-throw attempt and were back in the circle almost immediately. Peño scowled at Vin.

  “Lucky,” he muttered.

  “All skill,” Vin replied, grinning.

  Rolabi opened his bag. “You all have your full eyesight again. But are you really looking? We must relearn to see.” He withdrew the daisy from his bag and set it down in front of them.

  “Not again,” Peño said.

  “Many times more,” Rolabi said. “If you wish to win, you must slow down time. Begin.”

  He started for the doors, and Peño glanced between the professor and the potted daisy, confused.

  “Where are you going?” Peño asked.

  “You will take the daisy home tonight, Peño. Be careful with it, please. Water it.”

  Peño gulped and stared at the daisy. He had to take care of it? It would probably try to eat him in the middle of the night. He decided to lock it in their closet when he got home . . . though he made a mental note to water it very thoroughly first. Rolabi seemed fond of the flower.

  The doors crashed open, letting wind roar inside.

  “How long do you want us to stare at it?” Rain shouted.

  Rolabi didn’t turn back. “Until you see something new.”

  With that, he vanished into the afternoon.

  “Do you think that was, like . . . literal?” Peño asked.

  “Who knows?” Vin said. “At least I don’t have to take it home.”

  “Thanks,” Peño said.

  Big John stood and stomped toward the bench. “Where you going?” Jerome called after him.

  “I’m not staring at a stupid flower if I don’t have to,” Big John said. “I’m out.”

  “Everything all right with you?” Peño asked.

  Big John walked to the doors without answering, pushed one open, and then seemed to reconsider. “No, Peño. This is the Bottom. Things aren’t just all right. You can go along with that weirdo all you want and play his games. But it’s not a game out there. Remember where you are. I’m going to catch some extra time at work.”

  With that, he stormed out. A moody silence descended on the gym.

  Rain went for his ball, abandoning the flower drill. Peño hesitated for a moment. Despite Rolabi’s lessons seeming a bit more logical today, the flower still didn’t make any sense. They couldn’t slow time, but they could definitely waste it. Peño went to go shoot around too.

  Not everyone followed. Devon, Twig, and Reggie stayed, staring at the flower.

  “I wonder if we are ever going to—” Lab started, and then fell silent.

  Peño felt a familiar chill creep up his arms. He didn’t even need to turn to know what was causing it. The strange orb had returned . . . and this time it was hovering directly over Devon’s head. Despite that, Devon didn’t move. He just sat there, his dark eyes fixated on the flower.

  Peño felt like he should warn him, but the words caught in his throat. Everyone was staring at the orb now. Devon had to know it was there, right? And still he stayed motionless.

  Time seemed to stretch.

  Then, without any warning, Devon shot his arm upward and caught the orb in one strong hand. He broke into a triumphant grin, the viscous black matter seeping through his fingers . . . and then he disappeared. Peño stared at the empty spot where Devon had been sitting.

  “That’s not good,” Peño whispered.

  Things seemed to speed up. There was shouting and people heading for the door, and as Peño watched it all unfold, his eyes fell on the flower. He remembered that he was supposed to take it home. His eyes lingered on it. Peño barely heard the others. And, for a moment, the flower wavered.

  There is always time.

  He thought about his rushed shots. He thought about his fears of his talent and his size. He thought about his deeper, darker fears. Weren’t they all about time? Devon reappeared, but even that didn’t break Peño’s concentration. He slowly approached the flower, picked it up, and felt something come over him. A flood of tingling down his arms and legs. Then he saw more.

  Silvery white light in his hands, the flower, the gym.

  “What is happening?” he asked no one in particular.

  Are you ready to use your grana, Peño?

  He stared down at the flower, tucked the pot beneath his arm, and looked around in wonder.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  And what do the strongest remember?

  Peño glanced at his brother. “That sometimes we are weak.”

&n
bsp; PEÑO SLID HIS hands under the tap and ran them over his face, relishing the cool streams of water. He stared at himself in the mirror, hearing the first rhythmic thudding of balls on the gym floor outside the locker room door.

  Peño had managed to get the flower home in one piece. He had placed it on the windowsill, watered it carefully, and ignored all of Lab’s snide remarks. It reminded him of his mom’s garden box, except that it stayed green. It was healthy.

  She would have loved it.

  It hadn’t been a great night apart from that. Peño had slept little, listening to Lab toss and turn, and he felt odd today. Worn down. Tired. He had never fought with Lab for this long before. Three days of awkward silence. And what for? Because his brother was better than him?

  Where are they all going in such a rush?

  Peño spun around the bathroom, roughly wiping his face with his arm.

  “Who said that?” he demanded.

  It is strange when we desperately wish to follow others, though we say we want to lead.

  I just want the tools, Peño thought. I need something to work with.

  You have all you need.

  For what? he thought. To live in the Bottom for the rest of my life?

  There was no response. Peño sighed and gripped the sink. This had to stop. He didn’t do self-pity. If he did, everything would fall apart. Maybe some people could afford weakness. But not him.

  “Just play your game today,” he whispered.

  Peño hurried out of the locker room. He had only put up a few shots before Rolabi appeared on the sideline—this time in a wobble of air like baked concrete on a scorching summer day. It seemed no one else had noticed him yet, and his piercing eyes flashed to Peño, holding his gaze.

  Peño saw something in the distance behind him: a clear lake and a wooden rowboat.

  It was still sinking.

  “He won’t talk to me,” Peño muttered.

  Then speak without words.

  Rolabi walked onto the court. “Gather around. Today we work on your shots.”

  Peño quickly grabbed the flower—which was still sitting on the bench—and brought it over. Rolabi tucked it into his bag, again placing it as if in some familiar spot, and looked at him.

  “Better than when I left it.”

  Peño hesitated. “Do you think . . . I could take it home sometimes?”

  “Here.” He withdrew something from his breast pocket and held it out—a blue-green, round seed. “Plant this. Water it. Tend it. These seeds will grow anywhere. Even in the Bottom.”

  Peño took it, his hands shaking. “Thank you,” he said. “She . . . My mom.”

  “Will watch it, and you, grow,” Rolabi said.

  Peño smiled, then ran to put it in his bag as the others gathered around Rolabi. He tucked it gingerly into his spare towel, then ran back to join them, all seemingly unnoticed by the others.

  “Hmm,” Rolabi said, “this will be fascinating.”

  He tossed a ball to Devon, and the second it touched his fingers, the gym was replaced by open, azure sky dotted with a tapestry of stars. Peño looked around. The players were standing on top of a tall mountain unlike anything he had ever seen, even in photos. The plateau where they stood—the summit of the mountain—was a flat shelf of stone, not much bigger than the main floor of Peño’s row house, its edges jagged. The cliffside around it plunged down into clouds.

  Peño quickly backed away, his head swimming.

  He was not a fan of heights, and this mountain didn’t look very sturdy. In fact, it seemed impossible that something so tall and narrow could remain upright for long. He spotted a second jagged mountain beside their own, capped by a lone basketball net like a climber’s flag.

  “What is this?” Lab whispered. The soft question echoed a hundred times beneath them.

  “A mountain, I guess,” Peño said, hugging himself.

  There was no wind, but it was cold—bitingly so.

  “Thanks,” Lab said, giving him a dirty look.

  Peño had a mad urge to step closer to the edge, even though he only wanted to get farther away from the abyss. The ground seemed to tip toward it, and he felt his breakfast threatening to come up again.

  “What do we do?” Jerome asked. “Climb down?”

  “Are you serious?” Vin said. “We’re like a mile up.”

  Peño began to tremble. He gasped against the thin air.

  Find your center.

  The words resonated in his mind, and Peño focused on them. His breathing calmed.

  The eagle doesn’t worry about the fall, the voice said.

  “This is too much,” Lab said.

  “You said that last time,” Peño replied.

  “And you didn’t listen!”

  A crack split the air. It sounded like it was coming from below them, inside the mountain. The ground vibrated, confirming Peño’s theory. Just then, a chunk of rock fell away behind the team, as big as a car, and tumbled off toward the clouds. It was swallowed in the gloom.

  “We need to do something,” Twig said, sounding far calmer than Peño felt.

  “Like what?” Vin asked.

  “We’re supposed to be practicing shooting, right?” Twig said. “Maybe we need to shoot the ball.”

  There was another crack, and a second car-size boulder split away.

  “Take the shot, Rain,” Reggie urged.

  There was another crack, and Peño grabbed his brother’s wrist. For once, he didn’t think about acting tough or even that he was the older brother. He just wanted to make sure they weren’t separated, no matter what. Another boulder split off, smashing the cliffside on the way.

  The summit was shrinking fast. Peño gulped and turned back to Rain.

  He was hoping they only needed to make one shot, but he didn’t get the chance to find out. Rain was shaking from the moment he caught the ball, and his shot bounced once off the rim and then tumbled over the side of the mountain.

  “So much for that plan,” Peño muttered.

  Then the ball came rocketing back up again, arching well overhead before landing in Vin’s hands. Peño wondered if there was some significance in that.

  “Keep shooting,” Twig said.

  It didn’t go well. One player after another missed. Twig finally hit one, but the ball flew back up anyway. It seemed they would all have to make a shot. The ball came to Peño last of all, and he looked at it, frowning.

  He knew he should step closer to the net—the gap was about ten feet—but he didn’t want to go anywhere near the splintering edges, so he took a long three instead and missed everything.

  “Oh, great shot,” Peño muttered to himself, watching the ball sail overhead. “Faster!”

  “Don’t rush the shots!” Vin said.

  Peño bristled at the challenge, but Vin was right. They needed to take their time. Rain promptly missed again, overtaken by more trembling. Vin made his attempt, and then so did Jerome, while Lab airballed his shot. Peño missed again, as well, this time off the back rim. He bit his fingernails. What if he was the only one that couldn’t hit it? What if the team failed and it was his fault?

  “Try to focus!” Jerome said, the panic creeping into his voice.

  Rain missed again, still trembling uncontrollably.

  “Come on, Rain!” Vin said.

  Lab’s shot fell short, and Peño could feel the ground shaking as the ball came back to him. They were running out of time. He stepped forward, coming within a few feet of the edge. His head swam when he peeked over, so instead he focused on the hoop and locked on to that alone.

  The eagle sees only the prey.

  Peño took a deep breath. He dribbled the ball on the uneven surface, letting the vibrations move through him. They were calming somehow. He tried to listen for the beat. Boom, boom, boom . . . He
started whispering some lines:

  “You’re freestyling now?” Lab hissed.

  His eyes never once left the hoop. He took the shot and swished it.

  “Yes!” he shouted, pumping his fist.

  But his elation was short-lived. Rain missed again, and Devon right after. Lab was next. Despite their fight, Peño couldn’t resist a bit of coaching advice. On the mountain, it seemed silly not to talk. Their argument would mean nothing if they fell.

  “You got this,” Peño whispered. “Just relax. Regular old free throw.”

  Lab glanced at him as if to say something mean, took a moment, and then turned back. His shoulders visibly relaxed, his fingers calmed. Then he hit his shot. There was another crack. The summit was the size of Peño’s kitchen now and shrinking fast. Soon the entire mountain would sway and collapse, bringing the Badgers with it. Peño’s stomach turned—it would be a very, very long fall. He looked over the edge at death waiting below them. He had seen it once before.

  He remembered sitting by her bed that night. She was so skinny. Her honey-brown skin had faded to beige. Nearly gray. The cancer had swallowed her up. He remembered her cold fingers in his.

  “Promise me you’ll take care of your brother,” she’d said.

  “I promise,” Peño had whispered.

  I won’t let anything happen to him, he thought. I promised you.

  Devon was the next to hit his shot, pumping a massive fist. Only Rain was left now. Another piece of the mountain fell away, and the team huddled closer together, standing shoulder to shoulder. Peño could hear their low, ragged breathing. There was nowhere left to go. The next break in the rock would cut the team in half at best—and bring them all down at worst.

  “We’re dead,” Vin murmured.

  “Just one more,” Lab said.

  The ball flew up and landed in Rain’s shaking hands.

  “Make it, Rain!” Peño said.

  He had said it a thousand times. It echoed that many times and more around them. Another awful crack thundered beneath them. Without thinking, Peño squeezed his brother’s arm. Lab said nothing.

  “Hurry!” Vin said desperately.