The Perfect Season

By Kyle L. Hillard

Kenny Raines was a high school senior without a home life or a home. Jory Vaughn and Rayshawn Parks were best friends that were more like brothers. Grant and Lamar Kellaway were twin brothers that were more like best friends. They had one thing in common; their love of basketball and their superior talent for the game. All five freshmen ended up at Cal State Bakersfield where they took the college basketball world by storm. Coached by the one time NBA great, Todd Anderson, they had a season like no other . . . a Perfect Season.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462891061

Kyle L. Hillard

Kyle L. Hillard was born in San Jose, California, and was raised there until the age of fourteen. Then he moved to Bakersfield, California, and attended Bakersfield High School. After high school, he moved down to Southern California. After thinking about it for several years, he decided it was time to write. He wrote his first book on spiral notepads using a lot of ink pens. Several stories came after that, all handwritten. Kyle lives now in the Seattle, Washington area, where he continues to write. “The Perfect Season” is one of the last of his handwritten stories.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Kenny Raines

Whatta ya gonna do? Sleep on the steps ’til you graduate? Coach Ross asked his star point guard.

It’s only another week. The youngster came back only half-serious.

Don’t be stupid, all right. The slightly pudgy man started as he rubbed his unshaven chin. If someone’s willing to give you help, take it. There’s no shame in accepting a person’s offer, but there’s all kinds of shame in sleepin’ on the steps of your own high school.

His stern voice gave out the impression that he was mad, but the long-time basketball coach was more sympathetic than anything else. Coach Ross had some paperwork to catch up on, so he came to work early only to see the unbelievable sight of his star player huddled up, trying to stay warm and get some rest on the steps leading to the basketball gym. It was disturbing to say the least, and it broke his heart.

A quick trip to McDonald’s and the duo was back in the coach’s office to discuss the situation. As the city’s overall best player, known in the scorebooks as Kenny Raines, chomped down on his Egg McMuffin, he began to think. His thoughts were of what Coach was telling him about accepting help.

At Bakersfield’s East High School, Kenny only had a week left, then his future was mapped out for him. Colleges had been calling, writing, and visiting the high school for over a year, and the older man knew his star would be fine. It was the week left that had the coach worried. Anything could happen and cancel college for him.

Coach Ross had offered the seventeen-year-old the guest room at his house, but the youngster’s pride forced him to decline. But the words being spoken in the past few minutes had the kid rethinking the idea. Keeping the few sets of clothes he owned in his school locker was getting old, and rushing to wash up and get dressed before anyone at school saw him was becoming too stressful. The kid had two pairs of pants, some black jeans, and a pair of khaki cargo pants. He alternated the days between the two pairs. Kenny had a few shirts, but he still felt like a bum. It was the first time the coach saw the kid sleeping on the steps, but what he didn’t realize was it had been going on for months.

Silence filled the room, and the dark-haired, forty-five-year-old man took the opportunity to take a sip from his Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee. The coach’s gray-colored eyes watched Kenny gobbling down his second Egg McMuffin as if he’d never eaten before. It was a sight that almost brought the man to tears. He was eating at least one meal a day; he thanked God for his free lunch pass.

He knew the kid had been through a lot in his home life, but he had no idea how much. Kenny’s father had been out of his life since he was in diapers. His mother was barely home to cook or clean anything. Her week-long absences were common, and Kenny dealt with it all like an adult. But a few months before, his mother’s week turned into three weeks, and when Kenny came home from school and his key no longer fit in the door and the paper taped to it read EVICTION NOTICE, he knew she was gone for good. The six-foot-two-inch, caramel-skinned kid from Lake Street had absolutely no idea where to find his father. He didn’t know where his mother went, and he didn’t really care. Survival wouldn’t let him concentrate on that; he had to keep himself fed and housed. But the shame of it all kept him from taking the helping hand that was stretched out to him.

Y’know, Coach, he began as the first period bell rang. I appreciate everything you’ve did for me since I been here, but stayin’ at your house? That ain’t necessary. Kenny was trying hard to squash the embarrassment he felt. I gotta place I can go, I was just too late last night, y’know, he added as he stood to leave.

Coach Ross watched the kid closely. There was nothing he could do, but how he wanted to. Kenny had a lot of pride, and it was killing the older man to see it get in the way. His hands were tied; Kenny made his decision. All he could was hope for the best.

That evening after playing ball since school let out, Kenny found himself at the park, alone. He just continued to shoot and drive the ball from one basket to the other. His mind held no thoughts; he only wanted to be a better basketball player.

As the sun was putting an end to the day, the thought came to Kenny’s mind about a place to stay. He was at Mayflower Park on California Avenue, and he was trying hard to think of anyone who might let him in for the night. His aunt who lived on Fourth Street, almost to Chester Avenue, might not want to see him, but it was worth a shot. There was some bad blood there, and it was kind of far, but Kenny was beginning to feel the pain of a few missed meals.

A year before, Kenny and his aunt spoke often, and they got along great. Then she was over for dinner one night and everything changed. His mother and her sister got into it over nothing really; they were just drunk, but it escalated to the point where Kenny heard things about his mother he never knew: how she never wanted a child, tried to abort him with a coat hanger, and when he was three, she had tried to leave him in a mall and walk away. The startling revelations combined with his mother not denying any of it made the kid wonder about her.

After the cat was out of the bag, the two sisters went at it. They fought like their lives depended on it, and when his mother appeared to be getting the worse of it, Kenny jumped in. He had both hands free as he threw his aunt off his mother. And when she slapped him across the face with an open hand, Kenny balled up his fist, reached back, and blasted her right in the eye. It seemed to close up immediately, and when the cops got there, they saw it as two drunken women in a fight, no more, no less. His aunt’s boyfriend was upset that she not only had to spend a night in jail, but that it took a week for her to even see out of her eye. They hadn’t spoken since that night, and there was no telling what the reaction was going be.

Kenny was nervous as he stepped up onto the porch. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Hey, Auntie T! he greeted her as friendly as he could.

What do you want? The woman snarled back. She was surprised to see the kid but not happy.

So how you doin’? Kenny asked sheepishly. He could still see the outline of his punch on her eye.

Kenny, your momma ain’t here. She’s long gone, okay. The woman named Theresa replied harshly. She knew her sister had run off, but it was news to the kid. Now, what do you want? she added.

Uhm . . . can I come in? Kenny asked apprehensively.

Naw, we can talk out here, she replied, walking out the front door, letting it close behind her.

She stared at Kenny as if he owed her money. Slowly, she lit a cigarette and took a puff. You gonna tell me what you want or not?

Theresa leaned against the house just off to the side of the door, and Kenny had backed all the way up to the steps. Uhm . . . I was wondering, since my mom’s gone . . . y’ think I could stay here for a week or so? They were the hardest words he’d ever spoken. He delivered the words shakily, as if he could barely speak. He looked down at the cemented steps where he stood. The same shame and uneasiness he had felt earlier that day with Coach Ross was back.

I don’t think so. Theresa calmly flicked the butt of her cigarette onto the sidewalk and looked at her nephew. She wanted to laugh at the youngster—the same youngster that could have saved her from jail, but didn’t.

Kenny didn’t want to beg, but it was getting to be about that time. Can I at least get some food? he asked softly, trying to keep the tears inside.

Theresa began to yell and scream simply because she didn’t want to feel the sympathy she knew she should for the kid. Do you have any idea of what I had to go through!? DO YOU!? Before Kenny could answer, the front door burst open and the screen door slammed against the side of the house. The sight of Lawrence put the kid on instant defense.

C’mon, babe, get in the house. His deep masculine voice calmed the emotional woman. You too, c’mon. Let’s talk in here. Lawrence’s voice was smooth and inviting. His mind was telling him no, but the rest of him was moving up the steps toward the front door.

Kenny could smell the weed they’d been smoking, and the sight of all the beer bottles let him know not to relax too much. The couple went into the kitchen together, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. They came back out to the living room and sat. The kid continued to stand until he was offered a seat on the couch, in between his aunt and her boyfriend.

You need a place to stay, man? Lawrence had a smile on his face as he asked the question.

Kenny looked over at Theresa, and she too smiled. A complete opposite reaction than the one he got when he first got there. He knew something was wrong, but the idea of sleeping outside had his better judgment skewed.

Yeah, Kenny finally answered, wondering why they were being so nice all of a sudden.

All right, you can stay here, Theresa replied. You hungry? she added.

Kenny’s instincts weren’t working correctly. She was just irate at the fact that he even had the nerve to show up at her house; now she was offering dinner? As she stood and headed for the kitchen, the kid was relaxing a little too much.

Lawrence told a joke, and the two laughed, but in the midst of the laughter, the older man reached out and put a mighty choke hold on the kid. The grip was so tight Kenny couldn’t even scream. His body flailed, kicking anything his feet could touch. Lawrence’s headlock just got tighter and tighter.

Hold ’em up! Theresa shouted as she ran back into the living room.

She held a sawed-off baseball bat that had tape on the grip. Lawrence stood up with Kenny still in his hold, but they didn’t account for the height of the kid. Lawrence had to reach up to keep his grip, and that loosened it just enough. Kenny opened his eyes and saw his aunt about to go to work on his midsection and promptly swung his foot around, catching the side of her face. She fell back, and with a little more squirming, Kenny broke free from Lawrence. He didn’t want to fight; he just wanted to get out.

The kid put two hands in the chest of the older man and pushed him back to a sitting position on the couch. He took two quick steps toward the door but was halted when he was snatched from behind by Lawrence. The younger of the two was pushed onto the couch just as Theresa was getting to her feet. A viscous blow to Kenny’s chest had him gasping for air as Lawrence was trying to contain the youngster.

Every hold they put him in and every punch they threw had no effect, and it was beginning to wear on Lawrence’s patience. Then, without warning, Theresa stopped swinging the bat, and Lawrence let go. Kenny jumped up just to get his legs taken out by his aunt. The kid was on the floor and as vulnerable as ever. His eyes widened, and he knew it was over. Lawrence had a huge .357 Magnum shoved against his cheek.

Enough games! he yelled as he knelt over the fallen boy.

His life was about to end, and in that instant, all Kenny could do was think back to when he brought his team back from thirteen down in the fourth quarter in his sophomore year. And what a feeling it was to hoist that championship trophy! A certain peace came over the kid, and he felt like he was ready to die. The calming thoughts were saving him, but they were quickly taken over by the images of what could be. His college experience, his pro career. Then suddenly, the kid felt like he had a lot to live for.

He waited until Lawrence’s attention was diverted by yelling at his girlfriend to get the rope from the kitchen and then used all the strength he had left and pushed his way from under the older man. He was able to wrestle the gun away, and he pushed it under the couch. Kenny continued to push, pull, claw, and kick until he was out of the grasp of them both. The kid stood for second and looked at the couple. Lawrence scrambled to get his gun back, but before any of them could form another thought, Kenny was out the door and down the street.

His heart was still racing, and it hadn’t set in on him just how close he had been to dying. He halted his steps for just moment and dropped down to one knee. His head dropped, and he vomited in the street. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, so a lot of that was his own bodily fluids.

Kenny shook it off, walked up to California Avenue and headed west. The warm, June night had the kid sweating, but he had a long way to go. From Fourth Street in Central Bakersfield to the Stockdale area, it was usually a ten-minute car trip, but it was almost an hour-and-a-half walk. It gave Kenny a lot of time to think. His thoughts were of his future, and he vowed to himself that this was as low as it goes. He would never depend on anyone he didn’t trust, and he wanted to make enough money so he didn’t depend on anyone at all.

After catching his breath and wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt, Kenny rang the doorbell of the moderately elaborate house.

Kenny? Hey, man, what’s up? Coach Ross asked. It was obvious that he caught the man by surprise.

The kid stood in front of his coach with a ripped collar on his shirt and fresh scratches all over his face. Whatever happened didn’t matter. The important thing was helping the kid, the coach thought. Suddenly, the thought of sleeping on the steps for the past month or so, the one meal a day, and the experience he just had at his aunt’s house hit the kid with a mighty force. It was real, not a dream or a fantasy. Real life was beating him down, and it finally got him. As he saw his coach’s face, it made it all plain, and it broke him down into deep sobbing groans of pain that neither of them had ever heard. Coach Ross didn’t say a word; he just stepped out onto the porch, put his arm around his star point guard, and led him into the house.

Chapter 2

The Dynamic Duo

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Jory Vaughn was on the phone with the person closest to him in the world. Just call ‘er, man. he repeated his request for the umpteenth time.

All right. All right. Just be quiet and listen, Rayshawn replied with playful anger.

Rayshawn Parks was Jory’s ace, his partner, his best friend. They were known around town as the dynamic duo mainly because the two were absolutely inseparable. Their parents were really good friends and when Jory’s mother ran off with another man, Rayshawn was there for him. Then two years later, when Rayshawn’s father left, Jory knew exactly what his friend was going through. It was those two instances that gave the two a bond tighter than anyone else they knew.

Hello? The stern voice of a woman came over the phone. Her tone had the two teens frozen for a moment.

Jory said nothing, waiting for Rayshawn to speak to the third party of their three-way call. Uhm, yes, ma’am, my name is Rayshawn Parks, and I was wondering if I could speak to Sharice, please.

Normally, she couldn’t receive calls after nine o’clock, but since the young man was so polite, and she’d heard that name before, the woman made an exception. Sharice was in Rayshawn’s algebra class, and they’d become good friends over the school year. She was only a junior, but her maturity was way beyond her years.

Well, okay, just a minute, she answered, then left the phone to bring her sixteen-year-old daughter to it.

The silence gave Jory the opportunity to taunt his number one friend. What was all that? he asked, whispering and laughing at the same time.

What? Rayshawn answered with a question in the same hushed tone.

Can I talk to Sharice, please? Jory was mocking Rayshawn and chuckling while he spoke. You shoulda asked if you can clean her house! he added with more laughter.

Is she comin’ to the phone? Rayshawn asked, barely serious.

Yeah.

Then you need to shuddup! Rayshawn fired back, but it was all in fun.

Who are you talkin’ too? Sharice’s soft, high-pitched voice asked inquisitively, taking both young men by surprise.

Jory went back to his silent mode and waited his partner to work it out. Oh, hey, Sharice. Whassup, girl? Rayshawn came back, sounding a bit nervous.

Who were you talkin’ to? The young girl repeated her question.

My little brother . . . he’s a pest.

Tennessee, you don’t have a little brother. She knew he was lying, and her words showed it.

Naw, I’m talkin’ ’bout my neighbor’s son. I just call ’em my lil’ bro. His answer wasn’t convincing at all.

Why you lyin’? she asked, sounding a bit perturbed.

I’m jokin’, girl . . . I was talkin’ to my mom. Jory’s face cringed with Rayshawn’s next excuse. Nothing had worked up to that point and neither of the kids on the phone knew what Rayshawn was talking about.

You tell your mom to shut up? Sharice asked, almost giggling.

Rayshawn became nervous again, searching through his mind for the right thing to say that could be considered as reasonable. Well, y’know, sometimes she just be talkin’ and talkin’. He could hear Jory trying not to laugh, and he just shook his head, wondering how he got talked into all this.

So, Sharice, I want you to meet my boy, Jory, Rayshawn continued like normal.

You mean Jory Vaughn?

Yeah.

I know Jory. Sharice claimed, causing Rayshawn’s eyes to widen. Why would Jory beg him to introduce him to a girl he already knows?

You don’t know Jory. he answered quickly.

Well, I know of him. Sharice smiled as she spoke.

Y’wanna meet ’em? Jory was on the line, hanging on every spoken word, but the last question had him sitting up straight, waiting for the reply.

Yeah! Sharice replied with emphasis. What girl wouldn’t wanna meet ’em? That dude is some kinda fine! she added with a giggle.

All right then. Jory, this is Sharice. Sharice say hi to Jory Vaughn. A short moment of silence was followed by a loud scream and the sound of the phone hanging up. It took her an instant to realize Jory was on the phone while she was talking about him.

Rayshawn couldn’t seem to stop laughing, but Jory wasn’t happy at all. Why you laughin’, man! he said loudly, causing Rayshawn’s laughter to get louder. Tennessee, man, you ain’t funny. Jory added before hanging up the phone.

The duo lived in the California Pointe Apartments. It just happened to be directly across California Avenue in front of Bakersfield High School. The two had been voted onto the all-city basketball team two years straight. The main topic of discussion for them both was which college was going to be better for them. It seemed like nothing else mattered as long as they went to the same school.

All the letters they’d received were from West Coast schools, and that was fine with them, but they thought they might’ve seen a few from bigger colleges in the east. The visits they got didn’t go as they had imagined. The schools either wanted one and not the other, or they just didn’t seem to care as long as they signed on the dotted line. It was a cause for a bit of frustration for both of them.

They were best friends, but no two people were as different as Jory and Rayshawn. Jory was eighteen; Rayshawn was two months younger at seventeen. Jory was six foot four inches tall with a light-colored skin tone and a nice, neat low haircut with a small part in the middle. Rayshawn stood seven inches over six feet and was dark as chocolate with a clean head.

Jory was the one that dubbed his partner Tennessee. When they were both starting fourth grade, Rayshawn moved a few doors down from the Vaughn’s. As soon as Jory found out he was just moving from Nashville, he began to ask questions. Tennessee sounded better than Nashville to the youngster, and it stuck with him all through the years. Everyone in town knew Rayshawn Parks as Tennessee.

The dynamic duo had been through a lot as young black males. Rayshawn clung to his mother even at this stage of his life. He was going to hate to leave her, but they both knew he had bigger and better things waiting for him. It was the same for Jory. He and his father had become such a big part of his little sister’s life. They were both raising her, and she was as adjusted as a ten-year-old could possibly be.

They’d tried unsuccessfully many times to get Jory’s father and Rayshawn’s mother together. The idea was pretty much dead as far as all parties were concerned. But they often thought about how nice that would be.

Chapter 3

The Kellaway Brothers

The next day in Parkersburg, West Virginia, Lamar Kellaway was gobbling down a bowl of cereal as he looked over the letters from different colleges that requested his services on the basketball court in exchange for an education. He and his brother Grant had applied to major basketball schools they wanted to go to but were turned down. They both had been scouted by over forty other colleges that showed a lot of interest in the two brothers, but so far, there were just seven letters: four for Grant and just three for Lamar. They were at the point where they were looking for good education and, hopefully, an adequate basketball team. Going to separate schools never once entered the minds of the identical twins. They were two men with one mind. Grant’s thoughts were Lamar’s, they didn’t even have clothes they called their own, and the twins shared everything, including an unconditional love for the Los Angeles Lakers.

Lamar . . . Ruby walked into the kitchen to the sight of her eighteen-year-old reminding her when he was eight. You’re getting milk all over the table. Her tone displayed her frustration.

Lamar, with a mouthful of Cap’n Crunch looked up at the stout woman as if he were eight.

Y’know, you better get that up before you father sees it, Ruby added. Her son knew she was right, so he put down the letters, then the spoon, and quickly straightened up the wooden kitchen table, finishing it off by wiping up the spilled milk.

He sat and began eating again with more caution. He picked up a letter and read as he ate. It was the only letter that made sense to him. The others said a lot of stuff about nothing in particular, but the one he read for the tenth time seemed to speak to him personally. They had gotten a phone call from the coach, and it was like a home visit—only, it was over the phone, and it went well. A few days later, they got letters requesting them to come and play for them. Grant had a letter from the same school, and it had Lamar wondering what his brother thought about it.

Morning, Ma, Grant greeted his mother as she stood making coffee for herself and her husband. He had to bend his six-foot-ten-inch frame down to kiss the woman that gave him and his brother life almost simultaneously.

Whassup, man, you still ain’t got no ideas?

Hey! Ruby scolded quickly. Ain’t got no? She asked turning to look her son in the face. You will not be going to any college talkin’ like that and embarrassing your father and me. She was only halfway joking, but the message got through.

Sorry, Ma.

Don’t be sorry, be right, she added with the love only a mother could show.

I gotta idea, Lamar finally said after a long, silent pause.

Tell me, Grant replied as he poured himself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Lamar held up the single sheet of paper he had been looking at all morning.

I got one from them, Grant sifted through his pile and found it.

Whatta ya think? Lamar asked, searching his brother’s face for an expression.

I dunno, the elder of the two replied. I didn’t think it was gonna be this hard.

Ruby overheard her boys talking and was so happy they had a choice of colleges to go to. She had one option, community college, and she had to work like crazy just to make it there. Her twins had transcended her, and she couldn’t be more proud.

Good mornin’, people, Earnest, the father of the house, greeted his family, smiling as he walked into the kitchen.

He folded his gray suit coat and hung it over the chair at the kitchen table that wasn’t occupied. His tie didn’t seem to match anything he had on until the colors in his shirt began to come out. His warm kiss to his wife’s lips showed that after twenty years, the spark was yet there.

Hey, you guys decide on a school yet? he asked as he leaned against the counter and took the cup of coffee being offered to him by his wife.

C’mon, Dad, you sound like everyone at school, Grant answered with a frown.

And everybody on TV, Lamar continued as he stood.

And the papers, both twins added together.

Parkersburg was a small town, and the two biggest things going were in the same kitchen, rinsing their breakfast dishes out and putting them into the dishwasher. They’d been in the papers and on local television since they were sophomores. The entire town was waiting to hear what their decision was going to be. They were the best in the city, county, and maybe even the state of West Virginia, but colleges weren’t knocking down their door. The same people that celebrated them didn’t know that part.

All right, all right, Earnest came back. I’m just askin’. Y’all take y’all time, he added, taking Lamar by the arm.

You know, this is the most important decision of your life, the entire Kellaway family said loudly in unison before breaking out in laughter. They’d heard that same phrase from everyone that had anything to do with the decision-making process.

The twins hugged Earnest, kissed Ruby’s cheek, and stood to leave. Grant took two steps and was halted in his tracks by the powerful voice of his father. On his tiptoes, he was five inches shorter than his boys, but there was absolutely no question he was in charge of the house.

Aren’t you forgetting something? Earnest asked with folded arms.

Since childhood, they were not allowed to leave the house without kissing their mother, but that wasn’t it. Grant’s face held a look of complete confusion. Earnest simply nodded his head in the direction of the table.

Oh! My bad, Grant said, quickly picking up the box of cereal and putting it where it belonged. He even wiped the table for good measure.

With a wide smile on his face, Grant picked up his book bag and headed out the door a second time. Bye, he said comically as he walked out.

They’re good kids, Earnest said with a smile as if he was trying to convince himself. The same wide smile his son just had, he had also as he put his arms around the waist of the woman he loved.

Thanks to me, Ruby came back, causing them both to break out into laughter.

Outside, the twins began their daily, half-mile journey to Andrew Jackson High School. It was a walk they would take only four more times. But the nostalgia was overshadowed by the decision facing them.

What school’s that? Grant asked his brother as they walked. He was still reading the same letter.

What schools sent you letters? Lamar ignored the question from his brother and asked one of his own.

Grant’s brown skin seemed to shine as the sun broke through a clump of clouds in the sky. You know, he answered initially, and then thought for second. Uhm, Notre Dame . . . Indiana State, Virginia Union, and uhm . . . let’s see . . .

California State at Bakersfield? Lamar helped his brother.

Yeah, the ones who called. You know who wrote me, so why you askin’? Grant was trying hard to read his brother’s thoughts. Usually it was easy, but that morning, not so much.

I got Notre Dame, Virginia Union and Cal State Bakersfield, Lamar said what they both knew; he was acting strange.

Who’s that in your hand? Lamar handed Grant the letter, and the walking stopped. The older of the two stood still and shocked. You wanna go way out to California? Grant replied in utter disbelief.

I dunno. That’s why I asked, Lamar replied. The phone call was a nice touch. You gotta admit that.

But that’s so far away, man.

I know, but it’s California. Lamar sounded like he had his mind made up. Look, they say it’s like two hours from LA, he added, pointing at the part of the letter he was referring to. We might hit up some Laker games.

Hey, my letter didn’t say all this, Grant said after reading just the first few lines of Lamar’s letter.

"I know. They sent that to me. Lamar pointed at his chest for emphasis. It’s not the same old copy that they send to everybody. And, Todd Anderson is the coach! Look, he signed it."

Really? Grant was getting more impressed by the minute. He’d never even considered going to California, until that morning.

Think about it, and we’ll talk later. By the time the twins reached the school, they were both beginning to imagine a four-year career at Cal State Bakersfield.

Grant only nodded as he watched his brother head in the opposite direction of where he needed to go. Both of them were being mobbed by classmates who wanted that first autograph. As he signed his name on pictures, schoolbooks, and clothing of any kind, Grant went over everything in his head. The idea of going to California had never come to him. He basically looked over the letter and the phone call was nice, but he had his mind set on another school that wasn’t courting him. The eldest figured if it came down to it, he would narrow it down between Notre Dame and Virginia Union. Now because of his brother, he had something else to consider.

Chapter 4

School of Choice

Back in Bakersfield, it was graduation day for Kenny and his classmates at East High School. At the same time, Jory and Rayshawn were getting ready for their own commencement. High school went by fast for the youngsters as they thought back on it. At the time, it seemed like they would be in high school forever. Now real life was staring them in the face, but neither of them had any apprehensions. Their comfort was on the basketball court, and Kenny, Jory, and Rayshawn all had the confidence in their games to succeed at the next level.

Here, Kenny, this is from us, Ruth said gently as she sat the gift-wrapped box beside the kid. He was in deep thought as he sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room.

Ruth was the long-time wife of Coach Ross. She’d met Kenny a few times and liked him, but when it came to him living in her house, she had reservations. So many variables were involved with taking in a person: personality conflicts, food likes and dislikes, and the financial burden. Ruth didn’t work, and they were getting by. Another mouth to feed was going to put a lot of pressure on her, she felt, but watching his behavior over the past week let her know he was a special young man.

Aw, Ruth, you guys didn’t have to do this, Kenny replied, yet sitting. His mind was a million miles away, but the gift brought him back, and he was touched.

I know we didn’t, but we did, so open it. The gruff voice of Coach Ross lifted Kenny’s head from staring at his present.

Without another word, the kid began to rip the blue decorated paper from the rather large, square box. One glimpse inside had him fighting back the tears. He took a deep breath as he began to pull out the contents. A blue and light blue, Nike sweat suit, a tank top with his name and high school number on it in the same colors, matching shorts with his number on the leg, a pack of black, Nike socks, and a brand-new pair of black and light blue Air Jordans.

He was yet to speak as he slowly began to put everything back into the box. The Rosses watched with pride as the emotions swelled inside everyone in the room. They knew it had been hard for Kenny, and they admired his courage through it all. There wasn’t any way for anybody to know exactly how rough the road had been for the kid, but they felt they had a good idea.

Kenny just sat staring down into the box without saying a word. It was the gifts that got to the kid; it was the gesture. Everything the Rosses had done for him over the years and especially the past week or so was hitting him all at once.

So, you like it? Coach Ross asked and was almost immediately tackled by the kid who sprung up from the bed to embrace the man. His face was buried in the coach’s shoulder, and his arm slid around Ruth and he pulled her into the hug.

C’mon, we’re gonna be late, Coach Ross finally said to keep from breaking down. It was a bit comical to Ruth as he tried to wipe his eyes inconspicuously as he quickly exited the room.

Ruth, I— Kenny started but was cut off.

I know, baby, I know, she replied, hugging the kid one more time.

A car horn kept Kenny from the last bit of preparation. He just grabbed his cap, and his eyes caught the image of himself in the mirror. He stared for a second and had to smile to himself when he thought about what he’d accomplished and overcome.

Across town, the graduating seniors from Bakersfield High milled around, talking to parents, taking pictures, and everybody with smiles as wide as all outside. It was a good feeling to be taking the next step in life.

Jory and Rayshawn were shaking more hands and taking more pictures than the average student. A lot of the parents thought the dynamic duo were moving on to big time colleges and were going to be superstars in the NBA.

So what colleges are you two going to? A round, balding white man asked the two as they stood side by side.

I’m going to Cal State Bakersfield, Jory declared proudly.

He’s only going there so he can follow me. Rayshawn laughed as he took a playful shove.

Well, I wish you all the luck, the man added, shaking the hands of both the youngsters. He walked away, a little surprised that they weren’t going to a school with a big name.

I can’t wait to get out there and start playin’, Jory began sounding a bit overly excited. This time, we goin’ against college players!

Rayshawn was excited, but there was something holding back his enthusiasm. Jory had offers from the biggest colleges in the country and even had people telling him he should go right into the NBA. But he waited to see what kinds of prospects Rayshawn would have. When nothing was coming in for his partner, Jory decided to go wherever he went. If it was community college, so be it. Jory could play anywhere with anybody; he was a phenom, so he had no confidence issues. Big college, small college, it didn’t matter. His skills would speak for themselves—as long as he had his big man next to him.

After saying good-bye to their families, the grads were on their way to Disneyland. Neither Rayshawn nor Jory had the money for the trip. Even though people offered to pay and actually paid for them to go, the two walked with their gowns still on to McDonald’s, where they sat for the next few hours.

Jory couldn’t stop talking, but he could tell something was wrong with his best friend. Tennessee! he called out loudly after Rayshawn wasn’t responding to him. Whassup, man? You all right?

Yeah, just tired, y’know, long day, all that, Rayshawn replied softly.

C’mon, man, you still trippin’ about that college thing? Jory asked seriously.

I mean, I thought I was better than that.

Rayshawn watched his friend and teammate collect letters from almost every college in the country, and it seemed like another coach was visiting every week. All the while, all he got was two letters and one visit. One letter from Oregon State outlined their strict academic requirements that seemed to be unreasonable to the young man. The second was from Cal State Bakersfield, the same school that came to visit. They’d seen his play and liked him as a good role player. He felt as if he was holding Jory back because he knew Jory was going to whatever college wanted Rayshawn.

All right, this is it. Right here, Right now, Jory began with a solemn look on his face. Put all that junk behind you. You’re a baller, y’hear me!? A baller. We gonna go up CSB and turn that party out! But I can’t do it without you, man! Jory gave an impassioned speech, patted the top of his friend’s head, and just like that, the matter was behind them.

After the ceremony was over at East High School, the Rosses took Kenny to Houston’s, one of the finest restaurants in Bakersfield. The kid held his diploma but yet felt a bit empty inside. He had no family to share in his moment. The Rosses made up for it a little, but it just wasn’t the same. Then his mind brought him back to the last exchange he had with his family and began to realize that he was better off.

At dinner, the conversation was spinning around where Kenny was going to go to college. He had a few offers from the top basketball schools in the country, and Coach Ross was waiting to hear one of those names. There weren’t as many schools clamoring for Kenny simply because they couldn’t get a hold of him. The letters he did get came to the East High and the colleges that visited also had to come to catch the kid at school.

So Duke wants you too? Coach Ross asked, knowing the answer. That’s Michigan, Kentucky, and Duke! The older man’s words were filled with pride. I don’t wanna jinx anything, but Kenny, you got it made, son. Everyone at the table shared a smile with the coach’s statement.

Kenny wiped his mouth and sat back, yet wearing the smile. Coach Ross could see he was about to speak, so he spoke up first. I got something to say after you, Kenny. He was bursting, and it wasn’t too hard to see.

Kenny looked down at the empty plates on the table, took his glass of water from one side to the other, then spoke, All right. Well, first of all, I couldn’t have did any of this without you. Ruth, Coach, thanks for everything.

How many times are you gonna thank me? the coach answered, getting a slap on the leg from his wife.

Let him finish, Ruth tried to sound playful, but Coach Ross knew she was serious.

I know you only want the best for me, and I love you for that, Kenny began again. But I decided to stay here.

You’re not goin’ to college? the coach almost shouted.

Yeah, I’m gonna go to Cal State Bakersfield. The look of disappointment filled the faces of the adults at the table. Kenny didn’t want to let anyone down, and he wasn’t,