The news broke before sunrise.
No sirens.
No warning.
Just a WhatsApp message in the team group chat.
"Y'all hear? Rico dead. Shot last night. Back by Crosses Alley."
Kyle froze in his bed.
Heart stopped.
No punctuation. No explanation.
Just… dead.
He sat up. Re-read it.
Again.
And again.
His breath caught. Hands trembled. His stomach flipped over like a bad layup.
He didn't believe it.
Didn't want to believe it.
Then another message came in.
"They say it was a setup."
By 9 a.m., school was on lockdown.
Grief hung like smoke in the air. Teachers wore black bands on their arms. Principal Ellis called for a moment of silence over the intercom, but no one really listened.
There was too much buzzing—like a swarm of invisible flies.
Students were crying.
Others were whispering.
Some were just staring at their desks, frozen in place.
And Kyle?
He walked the halls like a ghost.
His ears rang.
His thoughts looped:
We argued last week.
He fouled me hard.
He didn't dap me after practice.
We never made peace.
We never—
"Yo, King," someone said.
Kyle turned.
It was Dre, their backup point guard.
Eyes red.
Voice shaky.
"You good?"
Kyle shook his head.
"No."
That Afternoon – Practice Cancelled
The court was empty.
Just Kyle, alone, shooting free throws in silence.
Ghost leaned against the gate watching him.
He hadn't said a word since arriving.
Just stood there.
Still.
Unmoving.
Kyle missed.
Again.
Again.
Then he hurled the ball across the court and screamed:
"WHY HIM?!"
The echo cracked the stillness.
Ghost walked forward.
"Mi knew it was coming."
Kyle turned, furious. "Yuh KNEW?! Yuh KNEW he was gon' get killed and yuh didn't warn nobody?!"
Ghost held up his hand. "Kyle—"
"Yuh let him DIE?!"
"Mi tried. Rico already deep. He been tied up with SixRings for months."
Kyle's knees gave out. He fell to the court and held his face.
Everything spilled out—anger, grief, guilt.
"He wasn't all bad, Ghost. He just… he just wanted to win. Be seen."
Ghost crouched beside him.
"That's why Chino approached him first. Rico wanted power. And power comes with a price."
Kyle looked up. "Yuh think Chino set it up?"
Ghost's silence said enough.
That Night – Rico's Candlelight Vigil
Outside the school gate, a crowd gathered.
Students, family, community leaders. Even a few local politicians.
Candles flickered in the wind. Posters of Rico in his jersey hung from the fence. His mother stood wrapped in a shawl, her eyes dry but hollow.
Kyle stood near the back.
He couldn't bring himself to walk closer.
Rico's cousin took the mic.
"Mi cousin was misunderstood. Not perfect. But he was family. He didn't deserve what happened. Whoever did this… wi know who yuh is. And Rose Heights gon' remember."
Eyes shifted toward Kyle.
Subtle. Quiet. But they shifted.
Days Later – Police Interviews
Kyle was pulled into the office.
Two detectives. One had a notepad. The other just watched him.
"You were close with Rico, yes?" the first one asked.
Kyle shook his head. "Not close. We played together."
"Anything you know? Arguments, threats, strange behavior?"
Kyle hesitated.
Then:
"He was working with Chino."
Both officers paused.
"You sure?"
Kyle nodded. "They had conversations. He'd disappear. Show up with new sneakers. New watch. He never said it, but we knew."
The cop closed his book.
"We'll take it from here. Keep your nose clean, Wilson."
The Streets – Tension Rises
Word spread fast.
Kyle had talked.
Some said he snitched.
Others said he was next.
Posters of Rico became shrines.
Mural artists painted his face on alley walls, crowned with his jersey number and the words:
"Gone but Never Weak."
Someone tagged the school gate with red spray paint:
"No King Without Blood."
Coach Barrett's Office
Coach pulled Kyle aside.
"You need to stay home the next week. Off-campus. Until this blows over."
Kyle shook his head. "Mi not hiding."
Coach's eyes sharpened. "This ain't about pride. This about safety. Rico's death wasn't random. And people out there think you had something to do with it."
"I didn't."
"I know. But this ain't about truth. This about narrative."
Kyle stood. "Then let me control mine."
Coach stared at him.
Then slowly nodded.
"Then control it right."
Next Game – A Tribute and a War
The gym was silent before tip-off.
A moment of silence for Rico. His jersey draped on the scorer's table. His name stitched on black wristbands worn by every player.
Kyle wore his on his shooting hand.
The game started slow.
Kyle passed first. Didn't take a shot for five minutes.
The crowd grew restless.
Then in the second quarter—he snapped.
Alley-oop dunk.
And-one.
Step-back three.
Spin-layup off a broken double.
The gym exploded.
He played like Rico was in the stands, daring him to fold.
But he didn't.
He rose.
And when the buzzer sounded—Rose Heights had won by 20.
Post-Game Interview – Local News
Reporter: "You played like a man possessed. What was different tonight?"
Kyle: "Rico was with us. In spirit. He pushed me. We fought. But in the end… we were brothers."
Reporter: "Do you fear for your safety after the rumors about Chino?"
Kyle: "Mi not afraid of darkness. Mi just focused on the light."
Final Scene – After Midnight
Kyle walked home from the game.
Alone.
Streetlights flickered.
A figure stepped out of the alley.
Chino.
Again.
But this time—he wasn't smiling.
"Yuh talk too much," he said. "Police. Reporters. Yuh want to be the face of Rose Heights? Then remember—roses come with thorns."
Kyle didn't blink.
"Then cut me."
A pause.
Then Chino laughed.
Long and deep.
"Nah. Not yet. Yuh too useful."
Then he turned and disappeared.
Kyle stood still for a long time.
The crown on his head?
It burned heavier than ever.