The first bell rings to start class, but I don’t move a hard muscle. I sit motionless in the high school counselor’s office. “You have a better chance of winning the lottery than getting drafted to play in the NBA—or even getting recruited to play D-1 college ball,” Mr. Edwards tells me during our first-ever meeting. Coach had said I should meet with Mr. Edwards because colleges might want to talk to me after we win State.
“Every corner store in my neighborhood sells tickets; maybe I’ll buy one,” I joke. His brown tie is tied so tightly around his neck, it looks like his face should be turning purple. “What should I do?”
Edwards’s expression flashes a “stop bothering me” look. “Maybe a trade school?”
“I don’t know anybody going to trade school.” Actually, I don’t know anyone going to college, period. My oldest brother, Mark, went off to college to play ball, but he broke his ankle, lost his scholarship, and put his college career in the rearview.
“Russell Walker is going to A+ Auto Mechanics this summer. You should talk to him.”
“I don’t know him. Anyway, I got basketball camp in the summer. If I’m gonna make the—”
“Lucas, just because you got big doesn’t mean you should dream so big. Find Russell.”
That will be easy. When you go to a school where half the students drop out before graduation, the class sizes get smaller. You can get to know the few who remain.
The second bell rings for class to start. I take my time. I’d rather be late than walk in the hall at its busiest time, wearing ill-fitting clothes from the church’s clothing drive. Fewer people seeing me means fewer can laugh at me. Not that most people peer up from their phones. Everybody walks head down, making senseless noise, trudging from class to class, trying to get smart enough to get out of here. This place is like that TV show The Walking Dead that some people talk about.
I’m lost in thought. I bump into this fat kid who has never missed a meal. I apologize, but instead of saying “It’s all right,” he says through laughter, “How is the weather up there, freak?”
My mind flashes back to Edwards’s insult. I fill my mouth with spit and let it drop on him. “Raining.”