I jog down the steps toward them where Pops is still in his feelings with his arms wrapped around the dude, muttering into his ear.
When they notice me, there’s no introduction between us. Instead, the dude pulls away from Pops and grips me around the neck in some type of post-prison embrace and I lose my breath for a second because I can’t remember the last time somebody gripped me like this.
“Kid,” he says, pulling me in close.
Not Cali or Hollywood, butKid.
My breath comes back in a quick burst.
He pushes me from underneath his arm. “Coach Williams finally broughtThe Kidback home.”
The Kid.
He holds his hand out, and I smack it. Our hands tangle in a dance.
“I’m Marcus,” he says. “Me, Phat, and Mama gon' be yours while you home.”
Hearing “Phat” and “yours” in the same sentence should’ve felt like a thorn going in my ass, but I felt the same way I did when I saw her flipping through that magazine behind the register at the bookstore—light.
“Phat?” I blurt.
Marcus’ lips fall for a second and he narrows his eyes at me with a nod.
Pops laughs. “You know, the lil’ chocolate drop with a mouth like her daddy’s?”
He and Marcus hoot out similar laughs as if they’ve lived a life together I know nothing about and I’m trying to figure out who Phat is to both of them because it’s the first time I’ve ever heard Pops say her name—even after all that clowning she did at our first practice. It’s no use in me racking my brain because he’s Ason Williams. Mom liked to say he was a man that knew the world and really she was a woman that did too. I still can’t believe he didn’t let all her friends say goodbye.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I know who you talking about.”
“That’s my baby sister,” Marcus replies. “She don’t mean no harm.”
“None! In fact, I think she make you go a lil’ harder. You went a lil’ stale today when she ran up out the gym.” Pops laughs.
I didn’t go stale. I went soft because her cat-shaped eyes were wild as she pushed out of the gym’s doors.
“Well, I ain’t have her there to remind me how much of a ‘weak ass nigga’ I am,” I say.
Thatreally makes them hoot—their Phat with her baby face and chocolate skin calling me something she shouldn’t have and me getting bored in a gym full of dudes when I realize I don’t have her in my subconscious.
“Yeah, she had to go take care of something for Mama.” Marcus slaps me on the shoulder, grinning. “Come by the house tomorrow night. She’ll make it up to you.”
Phat is Marcus’ most prized possession. I see it in his eyes when he says her name. It’s the same way Mom looked when Pops called me “junior.”
He squeezes my shoulder with the strength of a man who’s spent time in the gym and he’s built like he played ball. His midsection pokes out a little like he had a beer on the way to campus, but he’s still lean and looks the same age as me.
“Let me tell you something, young man.” Pops cheeses at me. “This boy could’ve been a Splash Brother. I never seen nobody shoot a three like him—justswishnothing but net every single time. Just like his daddy Marshall.”
My eyes get big.
Marcus’ smile falls, and he squeezes my shoulder again. I can’t focus on the fact that Marshall is real, and he’s Phat’s dad, because I know that smile on Marcus’s face. It’s the one I put on when people get comfortable and start talking about all the great things Icould'vedone if I hadn’t done that thing that has them talking in past tense about my talent.
Marcus nods. “Yeah…don’t nobody have nothing on Daddy. He was the G-O-A-T.”
“The GOAT of all GOATS! Nobody else like him.”
My eyes hop back and forth between Pops and Marcus while they praise a man I was sure Pops made up until we got to Lockwood and I saw his name hanging in the gym. My gaze drifts past Marcus for a second and I catch Bryson hanging out by the entrance of the auditorium, staring at us with that same empty look he had after practice while complaining about Phat leaving.
“Like I said…” Marcus squeezes my shoulder harder. “Come by the house tomorrow night. We gon' put up some shots. Phat gon' cook us up something good, and I know Mama can’t wait to see you.”
