Training Camp

by Kobe Bryant

  Someone yelped, and Lab spun around to find that the team’s shadows were picking themselves up off the floor. Lab stepped back in horror as his shadow climbed to its feet and shook its limbs out, jumping on the spot. It was Lab’s identical silhouette, and it turned to him as it warmed up, faceless and terrifying.

  “Not cool,” Peño whispered.

  “Meet today’s defenders. You should know them well.”

  Lab’s shadow stuck its hand out. Lab didn’t move, and the shadow stepped closer, insisting. Lab gulped and shook its hand, and his shadow nodded before resuming its warm-up.

  “This is the weirdest one yet,” Peño said.

  Lab nodded. “I think I miss the tiger.”

  “Into position, defenders,” Rolabi said, and the shadows jogged onto the court.

  Lab rubbed his eyes. He had seen plenty of strange things in the last eight days, but this one had them beat. It was like perfect cutouts of the team running around, stretching, jumping.

  “Line it up,” Peño said reluctantly.

  Lab walked to the left wing, and the shadow version of himself moved to stay in front of him, sliding along the floor. It stayed low and compact, with one hand stretched out to track him.

  “Relax, will you?” Lab said. “We haven’t even started yet.”

  The shadow shook its head.

  “I guess you don’t talk much?” Lab said.

  Another shake. Lab realized he was talking to his own shadow and rubbed his temples.

  “Rain!” Peño said, passing him the ball like he did at the start of every offensive possession.

  As usual, Rain tried to fake and cut to the basket—but his shadow blocked him perfectly. The ball came to Lab instead, and he tried a quick step to free up some space, but his shadow didn’t go for the fake. It was right on him, jockeying and keeping a free hand up for the block in case he tried a sudden jumper. Lab shielded the ball from the aggressive reaching and scowled.

  “Try the post,” he called, getting the ball back to his brother.

  Peño managed to get it to Twig, who went for a rare layup . . . and was promptly stuffed.

  “Switch it up,” Rolabi said.

  “I think our shadows are better at D than we are,” Lab muttered.

  His shadow nodded in agreement, and Lab gave it an exasperated look.

  The starters went back on after the bench players were shut out.

  This time the ball was stolen almost immediately. Two of the shadows exchanged high fives, and Lab’s shadow even reached over and mussed up his hair.

  “Hey!” Lab said. “Not cool, shadow me.”

  They went back and forth between the starters and the bench. Lab managed to hit a quick shot, but he was stuffed six times and had the ball stolen three more. Lab’s shadow seemed to get more and more arrogant with every defensive stop, and at one point it did a chest bump with Peño’s.

  “Our shadows are annoying,” Peño muttered.

  “I’ve noticed,” Lab said.

  As the starters were gulping down their water on a break, Rolabi walked over to join them.

  “How is your defense, Lab?”

  Lab looked around and realized he was standing alone on the court. He shifted uneasily.

  “Not bad—”

  “I’ve heard differently.”

  Lab glowered. “I just like to play my own style. I like man defense.”

  “Ah,” Rolabi said. “I see. But you don’t play man defense. You play my man defense.”

  “What’s the difference?” Lab asked, frowning.

  “You think stopping your man is all you have to do. ‘My man didn’t score.’ ‘My man didn’t rebound.’ True man defense means nobody scores on you.”

  Rolabi took a step toward him.

  “If you want to be a starter on this team, you must play defense like a tiger.”

  Lab shrunk away. “I . . . I’ll try . . .”

  “Good. For now, let’s get back to offense. Into your positions, please.”

  Lab blinked, and the team was back again, the shadows waiting for the starters in a loose zone. Lab walked to the wing, and his shadow stepped out to meet him. The gym grew darker.

  “Peño, pass the ball to Rain,” Rolabi said.

  Lab’s shadow continued to jostle closer, keeping its arms up. Lab stepped back, annoyed, but it followed, keeping less than a foot between them.

  “Chill,” Lab said.

  But the shadow just shifted, blocking the angle from Peño—making the pass difficult.

  “He said Rain,” Lab muttered. “I ain’t getting the pass.”

  Peño did as he was told, and immediately, a white light fell on Rain. His shadow moved again, this time blocking him from both Rain and a cut to the net. Cold fingers brushed his arm.

  You created the shadow.

  So? Lab thought, glancing at Rolabi.

  So you know how to play defense. You just hold back.

  Lab scowled and turned back to his shadow. It was true. He didn’t play defense like this . . . but wasn’t it a waste of energy for offense? Wasn’t it more important to hit corner threes?

  As if to answer the question, his shadow stepped closer still.

  “We’ll see what you got, then,” Lab said.

  He had figured out that a spotlight seemed to fall on a player who got open, so he made a quick fake down low and then stepped back again, raising his hand for the skip pass. It was his favorite play, usually. A spotlight did fall on him, but it was far dimmer than the others.

  I’m not a good enough option, he realized.

  Lab cut for the corner and called for the pass, his shadow racing to catch up. This time the spotlight on him was blazing.

  Rain threw him the ball, and Lab dribbled only once before throwing it to A-Wall down low. Lab stopped in the corner, but as A-Wall turned away from him, trying to post up, the light around him grew dim again. A-Wall couldn’t see him, and the defender was in the way of a pass.

  Normally, Lab would wait there anyway. But there was no time.

  He cut back toward the top of the arc, getting into A-Wall’s line of sight, and received another pass. His shadow closed in fast, growing bigger as he delayed, so Lab threw the ball to the point and cut again. He started running from the point to the wing to the corner in a loose triangle. It was more than an issue of spacing—he had to help his teammates too. When Lab passed Twig the ball down low, Lab cut immediately to give him an option to pass it back. When Lab ran to the corner, he used a big man as a screen and rubbed the defender to free up his own shot, creating wide-open looks. He hit five corner threes in an hour, and his shadow wasn’t chest-bumping anymore.

  “What now, Shadow Lab?” Lab asked, slapping his chest.

  His shadow stared back at him facelessly, and Lab stopped talking.

  After Rain hit another open layup, Rolabi stepped forward with the daisy.

  “That’s enough for today,” he said. “Sit and watch. Thank you, gentlemen.”

  The lights all turned back on, and the shadows disappeared instantly. Lab grabbed his water bottle and then sat cross-legged in front of the daisy, happy for the break. He had been so consumed with the drill, he’d barely realized how tired he was. It occurred to him that maybe he had been spending a little too much time hanging back from the play, wanting the ball more.

  Had he ever gone to get it?

  “If you use the Spotlight Offense, you will be more effective,” Rolabi said. “Follow the light, invite it to yourself, and you will conquer any darkness.”

  “Pretty heavy for basketball,” Big John said.

  “And perfect for life,” Rolabi said. “Why not live every part of it with the same values?”

  With that, he turned to the flower. Lab still had no idea how they were supposed to see it grow. But he wa
s also exhausted, so he drank his water and enjoyed the break. Then the gym grew still and tense . . . like no one was breathing anymore. Lab knew the orb had arrived before he looked.

  “Here we go again,” he muttered.

  Vin was first to move, and Lab scrambled to his feet and sprinted after him. As he did, he noticed Twig, Devon, and Jerome stayed behind—clearly, they were the three who had already caught it. They had all faced the hiding place. What was in their rooms? What were they hiding?

  As he closed in, Lab waited for the orb to make its move. “Split up!” he shouted.

  Lab snatched at the orb and missed, flinching as it zoomed right past his face. Rain lunged for it and missed, wildly swinging his arms and smacking Vin in the chest. Lab watched as Peño made another desperate swipe, and then the black shape slowed, facing off with a prowling Rain.

  Rain was ready. He faked and pivoted, snagging the orb and disappearing instantly.

  “The fat kid is clearly at a disadvantage here,” Big John said.

  “I thought it was Bad Man Blubber?” Peño said.

  “It’s still blubber,” he said.

  Lab rubbed his hamstring—he felt like he’d pulled it during the chase. He shuffled to the bench for water, only belatedly thinking to look for Rolabi. But the professor was already gone. He sighed and dropped onto the bench, massaging his legs. Vin sat down beside him, scowling.

  “I’m getting sick of that orb,” Vin said.

  “Same,” Lab said, watching as Rain reappeared.

  They stripped their shoes off and sat there for a moment, catching their breath.

  “Hey,” Vin said quietly. “You know what you said the other day? About you being around if I needed anything?”

  “Yeah.”

  Vin scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “Well, I was wondering if you, and Peño if he wanted, would come play ball with me at the park sometime this summer.”

  “By your place?” Lab asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why not play here?”

  “Well, I go there, and there’s these kids giving me a tough time. Stupid stuff and—”

  “I’ll be there,” Lab cut in immediately. “Peño too. Anytime you want.”

  Vin looked at him, obviously surprised. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Thanks.”

  Vin started to pack up, and Lab thought he saw him wipe his eyes with a quick shoulder.

  The ones that hurt the most always have the most to give.

  Lab felt a lump form in his throat. How come no one is helping me? he thought.

  Because you have decided you aren’t worth helping.

  Lab closed his eyes. He was ready for the dark room.

  LAB HUNCHED OVER on the sideline, panting. His sides burned with cramps, his hair draped over his forehead like an oil spill. He had been warming up hard . . . almost manic. Shoot, rebound, shoot, rebound. He had worked until even Peño had asked if he was feeling all right.

  He wasn’t. He hadn’t slept well. That was nothing new, but last night he’d barely gotten a wink. It was fear over his hiding place. Fear of what he might find down there. Maybe everyone had something they were hiding, but he was the one who didn’t sleep and felt sick all the time and hated himself. It was the last admission that had surprised him. He hated who he had become.

  And now he was trying to sweat it out, to push all that pain away and be ready.

  But was he? How could he ever be ready to face those memories again?

  “We have two days left of our training camp,” Rolabi said, walking past him onto the court. He had seemingly emerged from thin air. “And two left to catch the orb.”

  Lab stiffened. Two? When had all the others caught it? He looked at Peño and saw the same confusion on his brother’s face. They were the only ones left. Was that significant?

  Was it because they had the most issues to face?

  Rolabi continued. “From there we will return to three evening practices a week until the start of the season. We will practice everything we have discussed here again and again until it becomes second nature. In your free time, you will focus on your mind. Read. Study. Learn to see. The mind and body are intertwined; if you neglect one, the other will fail. Never stop.”

  “It’s summer break,” A-Wall said. “We’re not supposed to be studying.”

  “No break is needed, or wanted, for the tenacious mind,” Rolabi replied, starting for the doors. “I will see you tomorrow.”

  “There’s no practice today?” Peño asked.

  “Oh yes,” Rolabi said on his way to the door. “You just don’t need me.”

  “What should we do?” Rain asked.

  Rolabi glanced over his shoulder. “I leave that to you.”

  He walked through the front doors, and they promptly disappeared, trapping the team inside. The only exit from the building was gone, and Lab looked around the gym nervously.

  “Perfect,” Peño said. “I guess he’s making sure we don’t go home early.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Twig murmured.

  He was right. Something began to churn and grind, growing so loud that Lab covered his ears. As the noise intensified, the gym’s two longer walls suddenly shook and pushed forward, closing in on the team like an enormous vise. They slid over the floors, inching toward the trapped team.

  “Impossible,” Vin said.

  “Possibility is subjective,” Lab muttered. “Any ideas?”

  “The locker room!” Rain shouted. He ran for the door, but it vanished before he could reach it. He slapped the wall in frustration. “Now what?”

  “Maybe we need to score the ball again?” Vin said.

  It was as good an idea as any. But nothing worked. Lab hit threes and layups. They all did. They shot again and again until they were sweating profusely and the walls had driven the lumbering steel bleachers almost onto the court. The whole gym was forming a sort of corridor—something he remembered well. Even the walls were white, and he looked around in horror as it all seemed to shrink back toward that day. His breath caught in his throat.

  It felt like that memory was finally going to crush him alive, just as it had been threatening for the last three years.

  “This is useless,” Lab said. “We did shooting two days ago. He wouldn’t repeat it.”

  “So what’s left?” A-Wall said. “We’ve done defense and offense now!”

  Lab looked around the gym. He had no idea. There was nothing left.

  “We need to stop the walls,” Devon said suddenly. He hurried over to the bleachers and began to heave vainly on one side. “Help!”

  Lab ran over to join him. The bleachers were one giant structure of welded steel, and they were incredibly heavy. Lab tugged until his entire body was on fire.

  “Turn it sideways!” Rain shouted. “On three. One . . . two . . . pull!”

  They turned the bleachers with inches to spare. The walls pushed on, and Lab watched, biting his lip. But even the steel behemoth was no match for the walls. The metal screeched, folding like paper.

  “It’s not working!” Peño screamed.

  Lab looked back and forth. It was nearly a true hallway now. He half expected to see metal chairs propped against the cinder blocks and smell the sharp acrid sanitizers and hear the noises of crying and shouts and beeping. He thrust his hands over his ears without thinking.

  He didn’t believe it—he couldn’t believe it—but what were they missing? Rolabi said they were creating their own grana. But why would the team do this to themselves? Was he doing it—was he creating this hallway again? What was the point? He crouched down, hands still over his ears. There had to be a meaning to it. A purpose to the destruction. What was it?

  “Look!” Devon shouted, pointing upward.

  Lab didn’t have to look . . . he could feel the orb. A flash of hope returned
to him: maybe Peño could catch it and still escape in time. But when Lab turned to the orb, dropping his hands and standing up, his hope dissipated once again. It was floating twenty feet in the air, at least. They would never be able to reach it.

  “Someone can get out of here!” Twig shouted. “You vanish, remember?”

  “Only for people that haven’t gotten the orb yet,” Reggie said. “It will only work for them.”

  Lab and Peño stared at each other, and Lab turned to the folding bleachers. The middle was being driven up like an archway, and it was heading steadily upward—toward the black orb.

  “Get up on the bleachers!” Lab said.

  They all climbed, using each other to pull and push themselves up onto the peak of the steel archway, slippery though it was. The climb was precarious, but the bend was still large and flat enough that they were all able to get on top of it, though they struggled to keep their balance.

  Lab reached wildly for the orb, desperate to escape the corridor, but it was no use. Even from there the orb was still too high, and they were running out of time. Lab exchanged a desperate look with his brother. He could see the fear in Peño’s eyes.

  Lab glanced between the walls and the orb. Even with the extra height they would get as the bleachers were bent further, it wouldn’t be enough. They would be crushed by the folding steel first. After everything, they were going to fail. Whatever the lesson was, they had missed it.

  And then Devon crouched down, bracing his hands and knees against the bending metal.

  “Come on!” he shouted. “Make a pyramid!”

  The largest players got down beside him, and then Rain, Jerome, and Vin climbed on, managing to balance on the shaking, swaying backs beneath them. Lab and Peño scrambled up last of all from either side.

  It was a difficult climb, but finally he and Peño reached out across the top and pulled each other up, standing mere inches apart. Lab knew instantly that neither intended to take the orb. Maybe if someone got it, they would all be spared. Or maybe it would just be one of them.

  How could he take that risk?

  “Hurry!” Rain shouted. “Get it!”

  Peño instantly linked his hands into a foothold. “On my count.”