Training Camp

by Kobe Bryant

  Whenever he was open, his vision would clear again. The same didn’t apply for forced shots, so Lab found himself constantly moving to space. The scrimmage continued until they were all drenched in sweat, and Lab’s shirt was clinging to him like a second skin. It could have been hours.

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

  The blockage in his vision lifted, and Lab went to grab a drink. After a quick discussion of the drill, Rolabi sent the bench team on a run. Lab wondered if any of the starters might take up his offer and join them—maybe Rain after yesterday’s incident. But Rain stayed put, and so did the rest of them, just watching the losing team run. When the bench team rejoined the group after a made free throw, Rolabi took the potted flower out of his bag and set it down. Lab groaned.

  “Not again,” Peño said, clearly of the same opinion.

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

  He turned and headed for the doors.

  “Where are you going?” Peño asked indignantly.

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

  Lab turned to the flower. They had to bring one of Rolabi’s . . . things home? He exchanged a concerned look with his brother, their fight momentarily forgotten, as the front doors crashed open with the wind. But Peño turned away again, scowling, and Lab did the same.

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

  Rolabi kept walking. “Until you see something new.”

  The doors slammed shut, shaking the gym and dropping dust onto their heads like snow.

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

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

  “Thanks,” Peño said.

  “Where you going?” Jerome asked.

  Lab turned and saw that Big John was heading for his duffel bag.

  “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 turned back. “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.”

  He left, and Lab glanced at his brother. Big John was right about one thing—they didn’t need to stare at the daisy if Rolabi wasn’t there. Lab went to grab his ball to work on his shot. Something important. Most of the other players followed, but Devon, Reggie, and Twig just stared at the flower.

  From somewhere outside himself, Lab felt a flicker of disappointment.

  I thought you wanted to learn about grana.

  I want to learn about ball too, he thought.

  They are one and the same.

  Lab scowled and went to shoot, working again and again on his corner three-pointer.

  “I wonder if we are ever going to—” he started.

  “Look!” Peño said.

  Lab followed his gaze and saw that the orb was hovering over Devon’s head. Lab froze, feeling the familiar chill. Devon didn’t move, and no one warned him. Somehow, Lab could tell he already knew it was there. After what seemed like hours, in a flash Devon shot his hand up and snatched the orb out of midair. The black liquid oozed through his fingers, and then he disappeared entirely. Lab stepped back. Devon was gone.

  Where is he? Lab thought.

  The same place you must go, when you are ready.

  Where? he thought nervously.

  The hiding place.

  LAB WATCHED AS Devon took another shot from the elbow—missing as he had for the last twenty or so attempts. Every time, he simply retrieved the ball, went back to the same spot, and shot again.

  He had reappeared yesterday a minute or so after his disappearance. Ever since, Lab had been wondering where he’d gone, or more accurately, what his hiding place was like. What did the new kid put down there? And did Lab really have to go to his place as well? That frightened him more than anything he could think of. He didn’t even know how many memories he had stuffed down there in the last three years, and what they had become.

  All he knew was that everything kept feeling heavier and heavier. Getting up in the morning was a struggle, and falling asleep was even harder.

  Lab had been sitting on the couch last night when his dad shuffled in. He had plunked down beside Lab, face crusted with dirt and sweat.

  “Not sleeping much lately, huh?” he said.

  “No.”

  His dad nodded, slipped his boots off, and put his feet up on the table. “Been thinking about her?”

  Lab kept his eyes away from the photo on the mantel. She was smiling back at them, healthy, happy . . . not knowing what was coming. Lab wanted to take it down, but Peño refused.

  “Yeah,” Lab said.

  His dad sighed and wiped his face, leaving streaks in the dust there. “She wouldn’t want this.”

  “She wouldn’t want to be dead either.”

  They had both sat in silence.

  “Hits me too,” his dad said.

  “What do you do when that happens?”

  His dad glanced at him. “I remember the good times, and I keep moving.”

  “And what if I can’t keep moving?”

  “You got no choice,” he said. “It happened whether you face it or not.” He stood up and clapped Lab on the shoulder. “Your mom wanted the best for you. Go get it. Make her proud.”

  The word hung with him. Proud? How could he do that when even the thought of her hurt so badly?

  “Gather around,” Rolabi said, shattering Lab’s memory. “Today we work on your shots.”

  Lab flinched, dropping the ball. As usual, he hadn’t seen the professor come in. He scooped up his ball and put it away.

  Rolabi’s eyes went to Devon. “Hmm,” he said, “this will be fascinating.”

  Just as Lab was joining the huddle in front of the professor, Rolabi threw a ball to Devon, and Fairwood vanished. The hardwood turned to stone. The walls fell away into open air, stretching in all directions and carpeted by a brooding cloudscape. The team was standing on a mountain—though it was so narrow that it was more like a great stone tree trunk. A second tower rose only ten feet away from it, and atop that one was a basketball net. Both sun and stars shone in the thin atmosphere. They were a mile up. Maybe even more.

  Lab turned to his brother, who was trembling.

  “What is this?” Lab asked softly, his breath coming in clouds.

  “A mountain, I guess,” Peño managed through chattering teeth.

  Lab knew that his brother was not a big fan of heights. Peño’s gaze was flicking rapidly from one cliff edge to another, and he looked even smaller than usual, like he had drawn himself in.

  Jerome peeked over the edge. “What do we do . . . climb down?”

  The cold air was creeping beneath Lab’s shirt. Grana had caused this, he was sure of it. But was it his, or Devon’s? This mountaintop didn’t mean anything to Lab . . . did it? He glanced over the cliffs at the clouds below. At the fall into nothingness. Wasn’t that what he was facing?

  A bone-grinding crack traveled through the ground. Lab cried out as a massive boulder splintered and fell away behind the team, bouncing once off the cliffside before disappearing into the clouds.

  As it vanished into the swirls, more cracks spread out across the summit.

  “Maybe we need to shoot the ball?” Twig was saying.

  Another boulder fell away. Lab turned to Peño, huddling next to him. Boats sinking. Mountains crumbling. Why was everything falling apart? Was this because of his fears?

  Everything you se
e is framed by your mind.

  He considered that. He thought of the Bottom itself, and how often he felt frustrated by its poverty. Its trash. Its relentless disintegration. His thoughts were never about fixing the problems; they were always about wishing he were somewhere else. But was the Bottom even as bad as he thought? Was he seeing the bad parts because . . . he wanted to?

  Your dark room approaches.

  I don’t want it! Lab shouted silently.

  Rain missed the first shot, and the ball came rocketing back up to Vin. Lab felt sweat beading on his forehead. Heat built up beneath his shirt, even in the thin mountain air. Questions roiled in his mind. How much of the darkness around him had he built? The mountain split again.

  Rolabi, get us out of here! he thought.

  Why don’t you?

  “Keep shooting!” Twig urged.

  By the time the ball came to Lab, only Twig had scored. Lab took a deep breath . . . or tried to. It caught in his throat, and when he looked at the gap between him and the hoop, his head spun. He steadied himself, flinching at another crack, and took the shot. The ball hit the rim and plummeted toward the distant clouds. Lab wondered numbly if he would be following it soon.

  Only if you choose to fall.

  Time seemed to speed up. Lab’s eyes kept darting from shot to falling boulder to Peño to his own shaking hands, even as he missed yet another attempt. Reggie hit. Peño missed again. Rain missed for a third time. Devon missed. Lab missed and nearly screamed in frustration. His mind filled with new voices:

  “You’re going to let them down.”

  “You are the disappointment.”

  “It’s going to be your fault!”

  Why are you afraid of the pressure? Rolabi asked.

  I don’t know!

  Peño managed to quell his shaking long enough to hit his shot and pumped his fist. Rain and Devon missed again. The ball came flying back to Lab. “You got this,” his brother said. Lab saw the desperation and fear in his eyes.

  Take off the weight.

  Lab flinched as the deeper voice rose over the others. The image of the sinking boat flashed through his mind, as clear as the water that streamed over the planks. He knew he was weighing himself down with the fear of missing. The fear of disappointing his teammates. His brother. The fear of letting them down—it shackled his limbs.

  Breathe. Cast them off.

  How? he thought weakly.

  Focus on the details. The stone. The net. Your lungs, moving in and out.

  Lab allowed himself to breathe deeply. His heartbeat slowed, and he stepped closer to the edge. He focused on the hoop, on evenly aligning his toes, and on his fingertips shifting and gripping the rubber ball. For a peaceful moment, all was quiet. Then Lab released the ball and hit the shot.

  And that is why we stare at the flower.

  Lab stood at the cliff edge, breathing heavily.

  There was another crack, and then Devon hit his shot. The team pressed closer together.

  “Just one more,” Lab whispered, glancing at Rain.

  The ball landed in Rain’s hands. His whole body trembled.

  “Make it, Rain!” Peño shouted.

  The ground beneath their feet cracked and shifted ominously. They had no more room.

  “Hurry!” Vin shrieked.

  The mountain teetered. It was all going to fall this time.

  “Just hold on. We’ll be fine,” Peño murmured.

  “Shoot it!” A-Wall said.

  The ground gave way just as Rain released the ball. The mountain swung backward, away from the net, and Lab felt gravity seize his limbs. Peño clutched Lab’s wrist, his nails digging into his skin, but Lab just watched the ball fly. It moved impossibly slowly.

  Just as Lab started to feel like he was flying too, the ball dropped through the hoop.

  Gone was the mountain and the basket alone on its rock and the cold air. The Badgers were back in Fairwood, and Lab doubled over while Peño dropped to his hands and knees and kissed the hardwood planks.

  “You are gross,” Lab said, fighting back a laugh.

  He remembered Peño’s hand on his arm. His brother’s first instinct. Protect Lab. Always.

  “Welcome back,” Rolabi said. “What makes a great shooter?”

  Vin scowled. “You almost killed us!”

  Lab met Rolabi’s eyes. His pupils grew large, showing a true mountain, broad and full.

  It has been rebuilt. You are almost ready for the room.

  What will I find there? Lab thought.

  Only you can know that.

  “Think about the heart of a great shooter. What does he lack?” Rolabi asked the team.

  “Fear,” Devon said after a long pause. “He lacks fear.”

  “All great shooters are fearless. If they fear missing, or being blocked, or losing, then they will not shoot. Even if they do, they will rush it. They will allow fear to move their elbows or turn their fingers to stone. They will never be great. And how do we get rid of our fears?”

  “We face them,” Devon said.

  “Yes, and one thing we all fear is letting down our friends,” Rolabi said.

  Lab looked at Rolabi, feeling the weight of that statement. He could almost hear the buzzer counting down . . .

  “That will do for today,” Rolabi said. “Tomorrow should be an interesting day.”

  “What was today?” Lab said. “Boring?”

  Rolabi turned and headed for the nearest wall. Once again, he was nowhere near the doors, and once again, the lights flashed and died, and he was gone when they blinked back on.

  “What are you doing, Rain?” Peño asked.

  Rain was heading for the free-throw line with a ball. “Shooting,” he said.

  They all hesitated and then went to grab their balls as well, forming two free-throw lines on either end of the court. Lab shot again and again, retrieving the ball and lining up until his arms and legs were tired and the whole world was just a ball, a hoop, and a straight black line, and it made sense, and it was enough. The team shot for hours. Finally, they called it and went to change. As Lab was putting on his street shoes, Peño left alone again, though he glanced back as the doors closed. Lab hurried after him. He was tired of fighting with his brother—it didn’t seem to matter much when you were falling off a mountain. In that moment, Peño had moved on too.

  As Peño stormed across the parking lot, Lab fell into step with him. He considered blurting out an apology, or saying thank you for the mountain, but none of that really felt right.

  “You walking with me today?” Peño asked.

  They were brothers, and Lab just wanted things to be normal again.

  “Well, it’s not safe for you to walk home alone,” Lab said.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re too short. People can’t see you over the hood of their car.”

  Peño flushed and then burst into laughter. “Shut up.”

  “Who said that?” Lab asked, peering at the ground.

  They walked in silence for a moment. A car rolled past, spewing exhaust into the sky. Lab thought back to their fight, and to what Peño had said. The difficulty breathing. The moments alone. It occurred to him he hadn’t been there for his brother. But that could change.

  “Do you really . . . have trouble breathing sometimes?” Lab asked.

  “Yeah,” Peño said. “I guess . . . it’s anxiety or something.”

  “I get that sometimes too.”

  “You can tell me when it happens,” Peño said.

  Lab fought back a sudden rush of tears. This was what he’d been waiting for. Someone to tell him he wasn’t alone. Someone to talk to. It had been right in front of him the entire time.

  “You too,” Lab said.

  They said nothing more about it. They didn’t
need to—not right away.

  But Lab knew he could, and that made all the difference.

  SNOW ROARED INTO the gym, crashing and frothing and streaming toward center court. Lab stared in wonder as flurries swirled around him, and players made of snowflakes dribbled past. Fans cheered, and shots flew through the air. The snow wasn’t cold at all, and it finally gathered at center court and erupted into a plume of white before disappearing altogether. Not a single flake hit the floor.

  “Am I still dreaming?” Lab whispered.

  Rolabi strolled into the silent gym and stopped at center court, hands clasped. Lab was so entranced, he didn’t even register Rolabi’s reply.

  “Line up facing me,” Rolabi said, snapping Lab back to attention. “Three of you have caught the orb so far. I can see some changes. The rest must stay vigilant. They must be ready when the moment comes.”

  Three? Lab wondered, exchanging a glance with his brother. Who else caught it?

  He looked around the team, and wondered again if they all actually had something to hide. Did everyone? How could every person have a secret? How could they all be afraid?

  Because they are human.

  “Today we will be focusing on team offense,” Rolabi continued. “You have worked on your passing and vision. You have worked on your shot. But this is not a game of one. It is a game of many. Even the greatest players cannot win this game alone.”

  He looked up at the rafters, and Lab followed his gaze, confused. The ceiling looked much different than he remembered. The rafters had been freshly stained, and the fluorescent panels were no longer dusty and flickering. Lab turned. Even the bleachers seemed like they had been newly polished. Had Freddy hired someone to come fix the place up?

  Half the lights blinked off, and Lab snorted. Never mind. Fairwood was just as ratty as ever. He noticed that all the lights facing the team remained on, and even brightened. Lab blinked against the sudden glare.

  “We will learn to attack as one,” Rolabi said. “But first, we need defenders.”