Tuesday – 6:13 a.m.
Back in Rose Heights
Kyle stood in front of the school gates.
He hadn't even walked in yet, and already the weight returned—heavier than the U16 jersey still folded in his bag.
The gates were tagged in red again.
"KING DEAD SOON."
Fresh paint.
Wet.
Dripping.
The whole neighborhood saw him return. Word travels fast when people hope you die before you leave again.
Ghost was waiting by the locker room door, arms folded.
"You sure you want to be here?" he asked.
Kyle nodded once. "Mi sure."
Ghost didn't press. He just opened the door.
Kyle walked into the lion's den.
Later That Morning – Principal's Office
Principal Ellis was blunt.
"We've had two shooting threats since you returned, Kyle. This school is a place of learning, not gangland fallout."
"I'm not in any gang," Kyle said firmly.
"I know. But perception matters more than truth these days."
Kyle dropped his acceptance letter on her desk. "Then make the perception this."
She read it.
Eyes widened.
"This is real?"
Kyle nodded. "Mi playing for Jamaica."
For the first time, she looked at him not as a student... but as hope.
She handed the letter back. "Then protect yourself. Please."
First Round – Playoffs Begin
Friday – Rose Heights Gym
Bleachers were packed. People hanging out windows, standing on crates, shouting through fences.
Kyle stood at center court during warmups. He scanned the crowd.
He saw his mother sitting front row.
He saw Dre taping up his ankles, laser-focused.
He saw Coach Barrett in a fresh black polo—face tight with stress.
And then... he saw Chino.
Back corner.
Hood up. Smiling.
Arms folded like a snake coiled around a plan.
Kyle turned away.
He had a game to win.
Tip-Off
The whistle blew.
Ball tossed.
Kyle tapped it back.
Game on.
First Quarter – Tension
They came out flat.
Kyle couldn't get into rhythm.
Opposing team—Sandy Park High—pressed full court, forced two early turnovers.
Crowd was uneasy.
Coach Barrett yelled from the sideline, "Settle! We're not running from fire—we've been living in it!"
Kyle shook his head, trying to focus.
But every bounce of the ball echoed with Rico's voice, with gunshots, with Chino's threats.
He missed two free throws.
Then—
BOOM.
A loud thud outside the gym.
Everyone froze.
A backfire?
A gunshot?
No one moved for five seconds.
Then the ref motioned: play on.
But now the crowd was quiet.
Haunted.
Second Quarter – The Switch
Kyle adjusted.
He changed pace. Controlled the tempo.
Slowed the game down like molasses.
Then exploded like a coiled spring.
Spin move.
Stepback three.
Drive. Kick. Assist.
He wasn't playing fancy.
He was playing like a general.
By halftime:
Kyle – 11 points, 4 assists, 3 steals.
Team – down by 3.
Locker Room
Silence.
Then Coach Barrett grabbed the whiteboard.
He didn't draw.
He just wrote two words:
"Earn This."
Then dropped the marker.
"We not just hooping for a trophy," he said. "We playing for all the ones who ain't here. Rico. Miguel. Your cousins. Your neighbors. We carry them every time we step on this wood."
He pointed at Kyle.
"You want to wear that U16 jersey with pride? Then finish the season with blood on your socks and fire in your soul."
Kyle stood up.
"I'm ready."
Dre echoed: "We ready."
Third Quarter – War
The game turned brutal.
Fouls went uncalled. Shoves behind the refs' backs. Trash talk got darker.
"Yuh dead already, King," one Sandy Park forward hissed after a layup.
Kyle smiled.
"Dead man still scoring on yuh, though."
Then took over.
Baseline reverse.
No-look dime.
Then a coast-to-coast and-1 that made the gym ERUPT.
He looked straight at Chino in the crowd.
Pointed to his chest.
Then the scoreboard.
Fourth Quarter – The Kill
Down by 2. Final minute.
Kyle brought it up slow.
Clock ticked: 0:37... 0:36...
Crowd held its breath.
Dre set the screen.
Kyle snaked through.
Defense collapsed.
He kicked it to Ramon in the corner.
Wide open.
Shoots.
Bang.
Up 1.
Sandy Park rushed the ball up.
Kyle switched onto their shooter.
5 seconds.
Cross. Hesitation. Pull-up jumper—
Kyle leapt.
BLOCK.
The buzzer blared.
Game over.
Rose Heights wins.
After the Game – Chaos
The team celebrated.
Crowd poured onto the court.
Kyle didn't smile.
He scanned the bleachers again.
Chino was gone.
Then a student ran in from outside, panting.
"Somebody shot up Dre's house!"
Everything froze.
Coach ran toward the phone.
Kyle's heart cracked.
That Night – Dre's House
Police were already there.
Glass shattered. Bullet holes in the concrete wall.
Dre's mom sobbing on the porch.
Dre stood in the yard, staring blankly.
No one was hurt.
But the message was clear:
This isn't about you anymore.
It's about the team.
The community.
The symbol.
Final Scene – Kyle's Bedroom
He couldn't sleep.
The U16 letter glowed under his nightstand lamp.
Beside it?
A duffle bag half-packed.
Shoes cleaned. Jersey folded.
And a photo of Rico.
Kyle whispered:
"One more game. Then mi out."
"Finals."