“Kam,” she nudged him awake, his eyes half-closed, “You can’t stay here all day, Brit’s already been bitching about you crashing here all the time.”
Kam pouted, pulling the blanket over his head. “I like it here.”
“I know you do,” Jasmine chuckled, “But I have class, so you have class too, for once, please”
Reluctantly, Kam swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Now he faced Brit, who was sleeping with another man in her bed—someone filling the place that Marcus once occupied.
…
The campus buzzed with activity as Kam walked toward the staircase leading to Ms. Rivas’ Physics class. He noticed a familiar burgundy polo as the coach exited the athletic facility, decked out in school-issued gear from head to toe.
From his previous years at Pascack, Kam was familiar with closing season as January meant coaches were busy getting one last look at graduating seniors, finalizing recruitments, and planning for the next year's class. This was of no concern to Kam as he continued his walk to class, hoping the day would pass quickly.
“Excuse me,” a voice came from behind him. Kam turned, trying to place the face. It seemed vaguely familiar. “Savion Huggins from Boston College. You must be Kam.”
“Yeah,” Kam was a bit rusty, quickly noticing his mistake and extending his hand, “Yes, sir.”
“Hard to miss you,” Coach Huggins continued sizing Kam up. “Mind if I grab you for a couple of minutes?”
“No problem,” Kam said, watching his classmates hurry up the steps. Ms. Rivas would have to wait.
“I didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” Coach Huggins smiled. “You’re a tough one to track down.”
“Sorry,” Kam mumbled, feeling a bit awkward.
“Not a problem,” coach Huggins’ kept exuding positivity, a learned trait as a recruiter, “I saw you play at Pascack a couple of times, I’m from Jersey City myself, played at St. Peter’s. They sent me down here to check out some of that South Florida talent, but you know, we Jersey boys, we got to stick together.”
“For sure,” Kam forced a laugh, wondering if his hoodie and sweatpants were the best choice for this encounter.
“I was just talking to the coaching staff about you,” coach Huggins began, “You’ve had a pretty busy year, man.”
Kam was almost relieved that the shoe had finally dropped, “Yes, sir.”
But the conversation didn’t end there. Coach Huggins leaned in. “Tell me what happened.”
“They didn’t tell you?” Kam asked, genuinely shocked.
“They did,” coach Huggins nodded, “But I want to hear your side of things. Coach Trigg at Pascack swears by you and that’s a tough stamp of approval to get. The kid he told me about it, that doesn’t sound like the kid that those coaches in there are talking about. I want to know the real Kam.”
…
“Did you run with anybody in there?”
“They only got one Black set,” Andre explained, “The white boys mostly beef with the Latinos so as long as you ain’t looking for problems within the group itself, time goes by easy in there if you’re Black.”
“I’ll keep my ass out then,” Johnny shook his head, taking a pull of his cigarette, “Shit, maybe my ass should have sat down for a bit with you man.”
“Fucking Marcus bro,” Andre took a big swig, “That shit fucked me up when I was inside.”
“Bro, I had to see his kid the next day,” Johnny sucked his teeth, “Ain’t nothing going to prepare you for that.”
“I can’t believe they panicked like that,” Andre had been told a version of the story that had Kam and Marcus go to the wrong spot instead of where Johnny was waiting, as told by Johnny, of course.
“I told his ass not to bring his scary ass,” Johnny’s imagination knew no bounds.
“You’ve seen Kam since?”
“That scared motherfucker don’t show his face,” Johnny scoffed, “He showed up to the repass, eyes red as fuck, didn’t say nothing to no one and just dipped out. Shit, I type shit don’t blame him. Could have gotten scary in there for him, motherfuckers start looking for someone to blame.”
“I thought the little nigga had heart,” Andre took another swig before passing the bottle to Johnny.
“What we need to focus on is getting our fucking lick back,” Johnny changed the subject, “I keep feeding them cells but ain’t nobody getting close to that motherfucker.”
“That nigga the king in there,” Andre said of Snow, “You better off him beating that case and coming outside if you want to get him.”
The thought of a freed Snow sent shivers down Johnny’s spine, “Nah, the more I think about it, the more we are looking at it wrong. Yeah, Snow pulled the trigger but Curtis bitch ass was there too, probably crying and shit. We got after him, knock him off, send the streets into a fucking frenzy and I bet you Snow going to start barking in there and that’s when we hit him.”
…
Kwame’s footsteps echoed through the quiet house as he pushed open the front door. The day had been long, and he was tired, but the sight that greeted him made his exhaustion vanish. There, sprawled across the couch, was Kam.
“Kamaldeen!” Kwame’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “Another call from school today. Fucking late to class, again!”
Kam shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his father’s gaze
“You don’t even fucking show up to your meetings with Dr. Bracco anymore, appointments that I still have to fucking pay for. These shits cost money, Kam, money we don’t have! I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you man, snap the fuck out of it!”
Kam clenched his jaw, the weight of his mistakes heavy on his shoulders along with the news he had to share.
“A coach came to see me today,” Kam finally spoke, his voice barely audible.
“What?” Kwame asked, his tone softer.
“The running back coach from Boston College,” Kam cleared his throat, “Jamal, he’s not going there anymore since their coach left so they’re looking at other kids right now and he stopped be to see me today, said they might have a spot for me on the team.”
