CHAPTER 2

THE KING

Devon went to sleep angry that night. Heading to practice the next day, he still felt anger running through his veins. Nothing he did—even a game-winning shot—was good enough for his father.

It doesn’t matter how hard I work or how much effort I put in. Dad will never be satisfied, Devon thought.

He walked out of practice, trailing after his teammates. Truthfully, he’d wanted to skip practice—maybe even quit basketball altogether. But he knew his father would never allow it.

I should have started playing a sport Dad didn’t know anything about from the beginning, Devon thought. Flag football, swimming, martial arts . . .

Devon’s father saw him as the family’s second chance at basketball glory. Dad had been a basketball star when he was younger. Unfortunately, he’d injured his knee in high school and had never been able to play in college. Because of that, he seemed intent on making sure Devon was good enough to get a scholarship. That required endless practice.

“You see that fadeaway I hit in the three-on-three last night?” Curtis asked. “You should pay me to teach you my moves!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Julio, the team’s lanky small forward, responded. “But you were hitting all your shots, brother! If you keep that up, and Devon keeps scoring forty every night, we can’t lose!”

Curtis fist-bumped Julio. “Facts!” he said.

The boys looked to Devon in agreement, but Devon’s attention was elsewhere. Across the parking lot outside the gym, he’d spotted a shadowy figure jumping and flipping down the ramps.

Devon couldn’t look away. “What is that kid doing?” he wondered aloud.

He walked closer, drawn to the movements. He could just make out a boy on a shiny silver bike. The bike seemed lightweight, but the thick black wheels looked heavy as they skidded along the stair rails. Black pegs attached to the front of the frame.

The boy kept going. Devon was in awe of the gymnastics being done midair. The front of the bike was spinning as the rider glided. The bar seemed detached from the rest of the bike. It seemed dangerous, but the boy was in such control.

“Hey, man, what are you doing?” Devon called.

The boy on the bike ignored him. Curtis and Julio, who’d followed Devon, looked at their friend in shock.

“Devon, what are you doing?” Curtis muttered. “That kid isn’t from around here. Nobody talks to him.”

“Yeah, man,” Julio added. “Quit messing around. Let’s get going. We have to get to practice.”

Devon nodded. He knew his teammates were right. Coach didn’t accept tardiness. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder.

In the parking lot, the boy and his bike were soaring through the air. He looked as free as a butterfly. As Devon watched, the boy sped down a wheelchair ramp and used his strength to lift the bike in the air.

When he landed, he balanced on the bike’s front wheel. The back of the bike rose in the air like a seesaw.

Devon’s breath caught. He’d seen people riding bikes to get from place to place, but he’d never seen someone do what this boy was doing. Standing upright on his bike, he looked like a king.