Young King

1

"Young King! Young King! Young King!" The crowds cheers me on as I stand on the half court line. This is our one shot at breaking the tie in our favor. Seconds count down on the clock as I pass the ball to Drew who throws it over to Nick. I take my place at the center line just as Nick toss the ball back into my hands. The familar feeling of being back on the court only making this moment sweeter.

I knew I would bring us this win. I knew I would get the ball in that hoop. Everyone in the room knew it as well, including the opposing team. Which is why the guy on my right is brutally caging me, grabbing at any attempt to block my shot, But it get the better of him, my footwork too fast for him to catch on. I run the course and toss the ball in perfect stride as the crowd goes silent. And with the final seconds of the clock ticking down, the ball circles dangerously around the rim until it finally swoops in.

The crowd goes wild. Chanting my name as my team members aggressively hug me. Through the corner of my eye I can see my coaches run over with proud smiles on their faces. We take a victory huddle as the other team regroups and tries to walk out with their pride in tact. From the stands, my mother claps and gives me a nod showing her pride in my ability to carry my team to ankther victory this early in the season. And with the final year of high school about to finish, we need the fourth championship title. Not just for me, at this point I can get into any D1 school in the country. But these other guys, the need that title for scholarships and any other kind of financial help for college. All lot of them wouldn't be going at all if it wasn't for this team and our wins. So I needed to do this, for them. They deserved that much, a chance to get out of the projects and start their own successful lives, away from the gangs and the violence.

Except for Nick. He came from old money. Has a mansion in the middle of the woods a few miles from the city. When he first joined the team a couple of years ago, we all wondered what the hell he was doing slumming it with us. But he proved time and time again he was our brother. Just as we are all each other's brothers. This is my second family.

The first being my mom. Dad split when I was four and haven't heard from him since. He used to send birthday cards when I was younger but even those stopped coming. It hurt but I moved on from him. He'll regret taking off when I make it to the NBA.

But I know mom isn't as good with it. She doesn't usually talk about him. We don't even know what he looks like at this point. It's been fourteen years.

She does everything for us. For me. Works two full time jobs, starting her own business, helping us with school, and still finds the time to come to every one of my games. To be there for us. More than our father ever did. And that's all I needed to know to solidify the fact that we didn't need him.

"You good?" I hear Nick ask with a pat on my shoulder.

I look around into the familar musky locker room colored in beige and light blue. Chatter echoes off the walls as players shout half hearted profanities at one another. Usually I would join them, but today I just felt done. I wanted to go home, get on my bed and not leave it for at least two days. But I was the Young King, and I had to play that part. Even for my team.

"Yeah man, don't worry about me. Just tired. I'll catch y'all tomorrow." I say with a clap of his hand. The other guys join in.

"Alright, bet." Nick says as I finish my goodbyes with the other teammates.

When I feel the fresh, slightly humid cold air, I take a deep breath. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it until now. The stress of this final season was getting to me. It didn't matter how well I played the last few years, everything the program stood for rested on this. On me. I wasn't carrying the entire team, I knew that. The players we have were good. But I'm the best. And when you're the best everyone has an opnion and certain expectations. I hated it. Sometimes all I wanted to do was ball without the noise, without the scores. I can't remember the last time I did that.

"Hi, baby." My mom says with a light side hug. I lean into her, allowing her smell to soothe me.

"Hey, mom."

"That was a mean dunk you did in that last quarter. Carried you through to the end."

"Yeah, learned that from coach couple months ago. Never had a reason to use it till now."

"Mm, glad he's still teachin' you good. How're your grades?"

"Still at A's. Don't worry, mom. I'm keeping everything up."

"I don't I just don't want you to slip with all your focus on the ball."

"I won't."

She gives me a pause before running a hand over my hair. "Good." She says before kissing my forehead.

My moms is a tall woman. A few inches shorter than me. But with her heels she was easily taller than some of the guys. Not that she minded it. That woman is fierce and demands respect. I love her for that. My sister takes after her.

The ride home was mostly silent, the only sounds coming from the low hum of the radio. I rest my head on the headrest and let my eyes wander out the window as I watch the brick buildings go by. Sometimes I'd imagine living in the woods.

We'd gone camping one year when I was younger. It was the closest thing we ever had to a vacation. My moms took us out to a camping area about a hundred miles from all the hustle. It was something I'd never experienced before, the absolute silence of the forest. The soft movement of the trees. The smell of the fresh gas, the air unpolluted by cars and busses. It was moments like these when I craved to go back there. And I would. As soon as I was drafted and I bought my moms and sister a good home in a safe neighborhood, I'd take a long vacation in the woods. Just sit and watch the trees for hours, weeks. Do nothing but sip on a hot drink and sit in my chair.

But as we pulled up on our own apartment building, I was met with the painful reality that my little fantasy was still far away. However it was at least in view now. Just a little bit longer.

I walked into our meager little apartment that was littered with greys and browns. The smell of dinner filling my nose as my beautiful girlfriend stands over a steaming stove.

"Making dinner again, Andrea?" I tease halfheartedly. Andrea's always been around. Our parents were family friends and we grew up together, even learned ball together. Only made sense that we dated too. I love her, she was beautiful and kind. But doesn't take any shit from anyone. Her father has a drinking problem so sometimes she'll comes over to sleep here. And sometimes when she's the best, she makes dinner.

"Man, don't eat it if you don't want to. I won't loose any sleep, trust." She says with the smack of her lips.

I chuckle and shake my head, dumping my backpack at the door as I go to kiss her.

"Uh uh, young man. You save that for your dates. And why is this sweatshirt still here? Pick it up." My moms interupts our little banter.

I look over to the dinning chair where I left my sweatshirt for over two days. I sigh and pick back up my bag, walking slowly over to the sweater until it's in my hands. I traipse over to my bedroom before letting all of it fall into the corner, my legs immediately bringing me to my bed. I collapse face first, not even wondering if dinner was ready. Sleep has other plans for me.