Blue Lights | The Tre Hardaway Story

[The JZA]

Player Chise | PS5 | NBA 2K25

[The JZA]

The Cast

Main Cast

Supporting Cast

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Scouting Reports

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Legacy

[The JZA]

Content Of Volumes

Hard Path For A Hardaway
Chapter I: My Brother & Me
Chapter II: Take The Pain Away
Chapter III: Niccas Done Started Something
Chapter IV: It's In The Game
Chapter V: Soul In E Minor
Chapter VI: Rolling Stone
Chapter VII: Initiation
Chapter VIII: Put You On Game
Chapter IX: 10 Mins
Chapter X: Blue Lights

New Beginnings
Chapter I: Good Mourning
Chapter II: Where I Belong
Chapter III: Time 4 Sum Aksion
Chapter IV: Chess, Not Checkers
Chapter V: Universal Memory Loss
Chapter VI: Choices

[The JZA]

Chapter I: My Brother & Me

The sun was just beginning to peek through the gray Chicago skyline, casting a faint orange glow over the weathered streets of Englewood. Inside the modest apartment on 67th Street, the aroma of frying bacon and scrambled eggs filled the small kitchen. Tre Hardaway sat at the wobbly kitchen table, his math textbook open but untouched, while his mother moved with practiced efficiency over the stove.

“Tre, you hear me?” she asked, flipping the bacon with a sizzle.

“Yeah, Ma,” Tre replied, pulling himself out of his morning haze. He ran a hand over his freshly bald scalp, his thoughts already drifting to the basketball court. “I’ll watch Cedric after school. No problem.”

“Good, because I’ll be doing a double tonight. I'm sorry if you had plans today, but I need to make rent, honey. It's been hard these past couple months,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. The lines of exhaustion on her face were softened by a brief smile. “You make sure he takes his meds and stays in bed, you hear? He needs to rest. I'll leave you some money to order out for you two for later on.”

“Yeah, Ma, I got it,” Tre assured her, though his mind was elsewhere, basketball primarily. Senior year meant scouts, and scouts meant a ticket out of Englewood, if he could stay focused. Basketball was his way out, his dream, his everything.

"Hey Ma, you think you can hook me up with some new kicks for the new season? The pair I got, they're finally starting to rip from the toe."

"This the second pair you've busted? Are you sure your feet are not growing?" she asked, beginning to settle the cooked food onto chinaware plates that's been recently washed from last night usage.

"Just from hard play, I guess," Tre responded halfheartedly.

"Please don't ask for Jordan, Tre, I do not have it like that, I have bills to prioritize," Tre's mother sternly rebutted to let know how tight money has been for a while now. It ate Tre up just to even ask as he already know the situation. Just keeping a roof over their heads was enough of a struggle.

"Nah, nothing expensive. I'm cool with some Shaqs. They're affordable and will get me through the year. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't serious."

Cedric’s faint cough drifted from the back bedroom. Tre’s mother sighed, turning back to the stove.

“That boy needs to be wrapped in bubble wrap,” she muttered. “Too fragile for this world.”

Tre didn’t respond, but lightly snickered at the visualization of Cedric being wrapped in bubble wrap to his neck, with stubby arms flailing about. He knew she was right though. Cedric had been in and out of hospitals since he was a baby, and their mother carried the weight of his health like an anchor after their father bailed on them before Cedric was born. Tre promised himself he’d make it big, not just for him, but for them, so his mom wouldn’t have to work double shifts and Cedric could have the care he deserved.

Tre wolfed down his breakfast, kissed his mom on the cheek, and grabbed his backpack. As he stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit him, carrying the sounds of distant car horns and the hum of the L train. He was halfway down the block when he heard a familiar voice call out.

“Yo, Tre!”

Tre turned to see Marcus jogging to catch up, his hoodie pulled low over his face. Marcus, with his swagger and sharp grin, was a fixture in the neighborhood, even if he hadn’t stepped foot in school since sophomore year.

“What’s good, my man?” Marcus greeted, dapping up Tre. “You’re up early and bushy tailed for school and that basketball shit, huh?”

Tre smirked. “Some of us got obligations that don’t involve dodging the law,” Tre joked.

Marcus chuckled, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket, had to be roughly 10 bands. “Plans? This right here is my plan. Just made a quick stack last night. You can’t tell me this ain’t better than sweating it out for some college coach who probably don’t even care about you.”

Tre shook his head, keeping his stride steady. “That’s not me anymore, Marcus. I’m sticking to the court. I'm straight. My mom's would flip if she catch wind that I'm back running in the streets like that. I'm clean bro, I got a second chance with my Mom, I'm not fucking it up. Plus my brother needs me.”

“Man, you’re wasting time,” Marcus pressed. “What happens if you don’t make it? You think basketball’s a guarantee? Nah, bro. The money don’t wait for nobody. You either get yours now or you’re stuck forever.”

Tre stopped walking, turning to face Marcus. “And what? End up like some of the dudes we used to look up to? Dead or locked up? End up like Skee-Lo? Like Naz? Or what about Rudy? You know he's paralyzed waist down because of you. Nah, I’m good, homie, I'm not that pressed.”

"Rudy knew what he was getting into, he knew the risk", Marcus’ grin faltered for a quickly for seriousness, but he quickly recovered his-self, shoving the cash back into his pocket. “Alright, suit yourself. You know just as well as I do, some quick cash could help your mom a long way. She's a sweet lady, a hard working one at that. I know she don't like me much, but I respect her. And Lil' Ceddy? How long you want to see him suffer? But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re still stuck here dreaming about the league. ”

Tre watched Marcus stride off, his words lingering like the chill in the air. Shaking his head, Tre turned back toward the school. He tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack and quickened his pace. He knew the path he was walking wouldn’t be easy, but it was the only one that felt right. The bounce of a basketball, the roar of a crowd, the promise of something better, that was his escape, his purpose. And no amount of fast cash could take that away.

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Tre peeled his shoulder off the lockers outside homeroom, his backpack slung low over one shoulder. Dante and Kevin stood next to him, their voices rising in animated debate over NBA 2K23.

“I’m telling you, man, the new shot meter is trash,” Dante said, shaking his head. “I missed so many wide-open threes last night. It’s broken.”

Kevin laughed. “Nah, you just need to get your timing right. I’m dropping 40 a game with Ja Morant. You just suck.”

Tre chuckled, his hand absentmindedly spinning the basketball on his index finger. “Both of y’all need to chill. I’ve been cooking with Steph Curry. The shot meter’s fine, Kev, if you actually know how to play.”

Dante rolled his eyes as the trio made their way into class with several minutes to spare before home class started. “Whatever, Hardaway. Not everyone’s blessed with real-life basketball skills like you, Mr. Cheat Code.”

As they laughed, the door to the classroom swung open, and Tre’s heart skipped a beat. DeMika walked in, her presence commanded the room. She wore stone washed tight jeans that hugged her curvy ass and a fitted blue sweater that accentuated her figure. 26-35-46. You know the numbers... Her long, dark hair flowing over her shoulders, big, brown eyes matching her thick, glossed, succulent lips and her ebony skin seemed to glow under the fluorescent lights.

Kevin nudged Tre with his elbow. “Yo, there she is. Go talk to her.”

Tre hesitated, glancing at Dante, who grinned and added, “Yeah, Tre. You’ve been crushing on her forever, since middle school, right?. Time to drop those nuts and make a move, my boy.”

“I don’t know,” Tre mumbled, suddenly feeling the weight of his nerves. “I can't press her like that if she doesn't feel the same. How often you see DeMika being friendly to just anybody?”

“You won’t know until you try,” Dante said. “She’s single now, right? Or at least I heard. Broad like her don't stay single for long.”

Tre swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure if it was courage or peer pressure, but his legs carried him across the room. DeMika was settling into her seat, ass and thighs just spilling over the small school desk chair, scrolling through her phone. She looked up as he approached, her full lips curving into a soft smile.

“Hey, Mika,” Tre said, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach.

She tilted her head slightly, her earrings catching the light. “Hey, Tre. What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “Just, wanted to say good morning, you looking good.”

Her smile widened, and she set her phone down. “Good morning to you, and thank you!.” Her voice was warm, inviting. “You ready for the season in November against Legal Prep? I heard scouts are gonna be there.”

“Yeah, I’ve been working on my jumper,” Tre said, his confidence growing. “Hopefully they take notice. You planning to come watch?”

“Maybe,” she teased, leaning slightly closer. “If I’m not too busy.”

Tre laughed, his nerves dissolving as they exchanged playful banter. For a moment, it felt like the rumors about DeMika didn’t matter. DeMika involuntarily earned a rep for hanging with the winner's circle through the school years. You know the story, the popular school girl, the jock, and the endless count of underdogs. But they were rumors. DeMika was just chill, that girl who seemed to have her shit together in public. High scoring grades, got the looks, the swagger to ever keep other girls hating. Simply put, she was that "bitch". But in this moment, it felt like it was just the two of them existing in each other's eyes. DeMika’s charm was magnetic, and her laugh made his chest feel light.

But the moment shattered when Andre stormed into the room. Captain of the football team, AKA, "The Jock". He was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence radiating anger. His eyes locked onto Tre and DeMika, narrowing dangerously.

“What’s going on here?” Andre demanded, his voice low but menacing as his nose flared with hostility.

Tre shook his head with discernment, “Just talking. You okay bro?”

Andre didn’t look convinced. He turned to DeMika, his teeth latched together. “You’ve got something to say to me about this?”

DeMika’s confident demeanor faltered. She stood up, placing a hand on Andre’s arm. “No baby, relax. Andre, we were just talking, nothing more.”

Andre ignored her, taking a step closer to Tre. The classroom's attention fall onto the trio, some whipping out their phones to record the showcase going down. “You think you can move in on my girl? You that dumb? I'ma tell you the same I tell the rest of these chumps, back off, Hardaway. I’m not playing, this ain't what you want.”

Tre’s fists clenched, but he forced himself to stay calm. “I didn’t know she was still with you, man. My bad. All I did was said good morning and we started talking about the upcoming basketball season. You're more than welcome to chime in too,” Tre tried to advert with a slight of smile.

Andre’s glare lingered for a moment before he scoffed and turned back to DeMika. “Don't try to be cute motha' fucka', Let’s go, DeMika.”

DeMika hesitated, her eyes meeting Tre’s briefly before she picked up her phone followed Andre out of the classroom. Tre stood there, his jaw rowing from left to right, like a old typewriter, and his heart heavy from the sunken adrenaline. Dante and Kevin watched from across the room, their expressions a mix of sympathy and amusement.

“Well,” Dante said when Tre returned, “that could’ve gone worse.”

Tre didn’t respond, his thoughts still on DeMika’s fleeting smile and the way she’d looked at him, as if there was more to the story than anyone knew...

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Tre walked through the bustling streets of Englewood, his backpack slung low over one shoulder. The autumn air was crisp, and the fading sunlight cast long shadows on the cracked sidewalks. He was heading home after another long day at school, thoughts of homework and responsibilities weighing heavily on his mind.

When Tre opened his home's front door, the familiar smell of antiseptic and laundry detergent greeted him. Cedric was lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, watching cartoons. His frail frame barely moving except for the rise and fall of his chest.

“Hey, Ceddy. How you feeling?” Tre asked, dropping his bag by the door.

Cedric turned his head slowly, his droopy face breaking into a weak smile. “Hey, Tre. A little better, I guess. Mom left for work already.”

Tre nodded, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of water for Cedric and him-self. “Yeah, she said she’d be back late tonight. It’s just me and you, little man.”

After finishing his math homework and texting Dante for clarification on a particularly tricky math problem, Tre joined his brother on the couch. They watched a rerun of an old Scooby-Doo cartoons, but Cedric’s quiet sighs drew Tre’s attention.

“What’s wrong, Ced?” Tre asked, muting the TV.

Cedric hesitated, fiddling with the edge of his blanket. “I just… I feel bad. Mom’s always working so hard because of me... If I wasn’t sick all the time…”

Tre turned his body towards Cedric, his voice firm but gentle. “Hey, don’t ever think that. Mom works hard because times are tough, not because of you. And you’re not a burden. You’re my little brother, you're her baby boy, and I’ll always have your back, just like she has ours. Got it?”

Cedric’s eyes filled with tears, growing pains, but he managed a small nod. “But what if I gets worse? What if…”

Tre placed a hand on the back of Cedric’s head, softly brushing his fingers through his hair. His voice steady and filled with determination. “No matter what happens, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you the best care. You don’t need to worry about that. Just focus on getting better.”

Cedric’s lips trembled before he whispered, “Thanks, Tre.”

A while later, Cedric drifted off to sleep. Tre tucked the blanket around him and stepped out onto the porch for some fresh air. The cool breeze, had a harsh reminder that winter was coming, but felt refreshing against his skin as he leaned against the railing, lost in thought.

“Yo, Tre!” a familiar voice called out. Tre's eyes dart across his face to see Marcus approaching, his swagger unmistakable.

“What’s up, Marcus?” Tre asked, crossing his arms.

Marcus grinned, pulling out a wad of cash. “Same old, new lick. You need something?”

Tre hesitated before speaking. “Actually, yeah. I need a few dollars to grab some medicine from CVS for Cedric. He’s been coughing been acting up pretty bad today.”

Marcus’ grin softened into something almost tender. “Man, Lil' Ceddy’s like a little brother to me. Take care of him bro, here.” He handed Tre a crisp $100 bill. "Keep whatever's left over."

“Thanks,” Tre said, surprised. "Was expecting your usual schtick of smearing your propaganda in my face." Tre pocketed the money but paused as Marcus reached into his jacket.

“Nah, not now. But, uh, I need you to do me a favor,” Marcus said, pulling out a small package. “It’s just a drop-off. Suh-Suh’s place is on your way to CVS. Real quick, drop off in the mailbox, no hassle.”

Tre frowned, sighing heavily. “I told you, Marcus. I’m done with this stuff.”

Marcus’ expression hardened. “C’mon, man. It’s just one time. You’re already going that way. Do this for me, and we’re square.”

Tre’s reminded him-self of the $100 Marcus just peeled off. Reluctantly, Tre took the package. “Fine. But this is the last time. Only doing this cause you're helping Cedric out real quick.”

Marcus smirked, slapping Tre on the back. “You're my guy, Tre, and this ain't about Ceddy, I got him whenever I can help bro, just say the word. Oh, and before we split, there’s a basketball tournament next month. Winning team splits $5,000. You should get in on that. You're the talented one, I'm sure the money could help y'all.”

Tre’s mind raced. The money wasn't no game-changer, but could definitely help his mother out. “I’ll think about it,” he said. "Gonna be tricky with basketball season opening up soon too."

"Do what you think is best, man. I just thought I'd share the details with you. Just look up that shit online for Margaret Hie Ding Li Park," Marcus detailed.

"Good looking, Marcus," Tre dapping Marcus. "Aight, let me book it real quick and drop off your package and get this medicine. I don't want to leave him alone for too long."

"Yeah, you do that. Remember, drop off in the mailbox, no contact."

"Alright, alright. I'll text you when it's done," Tre assured. Tre headed down the steps and toward CVS, the package feeling heavier than it should in his pocket. Without looking to conspicuous, Tre drops off the package as instructed and bailed to CVS, getting the what's most important and back home to Cedric. No matter how straight and narrow Tre tries to remain, his path was already weary, and the daily struggles of basic necessities only welcomed temptation evermore...

[The JZA]

Chapter II: Take The Pain Away

Tre exited out of his school and into the gritty pulse of Englewood, his backpack worn like baby harness in the front as he ruffled through his school books searching for his keys on the way home. The early evening sky burned orange as the sun dipped behind the skeletal frames of abandoned buildings. His sneakers scuffed against cracked pavement as he walked home, Marcus’s words tumbling through his mind like dice on a corner table.

"Winning team splits $5,000. You should get in on that. You're the talented one, I'm sure the money could help y'all.”

Five grand. It sounded like a dream, but it was real. Tre had saw a post ad floating about instagram during lunch. A basketball tournament at Margaret Hie Ding Lin Park in two weeks. Tre could already hear the swish of the net and the echo of cheers. He knew the competition would be fierce, but he also knew his game. His jump shot was pure, his handles tight, and his drive relentless. Only catch was, he had to put a team together, but there wasn't many in his circle that had that much talent as him, not even on the school's basketball team.

If that wasn't a sleight enough issue for the tournament. It would be convincing his mother.

Tre pushed open the door to their small apartment and was greeted by the familiar creak of the floorboards. The smell of fried chicken lingered in the air, though the kitchen was silent. Cedric, his little brother, was sprawled on the couch, his inhaler clutched in one hand as he watched cartoons. Their mother’s voice came from the back room, sharp and tired.

"Tre, that you?"

"Yeah, Ma," he called, dropping his bag by the door. He kicked off his sneakers and headed toward the kitchen, but she was already emerging from her room, her hands on her hips. Her hair was tied back, and her eyes carried the weight of a thousand shifts at the hospital.

"You hungry? I made some fried chicken and some collard greens for you and your brother."

"I’m good," Tre said quickly, leaning against the counter. He hesitated, the words sticking to his tongue. But he had to try. "Ma, I gotta talk to you about something."

Her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. "What about?"

"There’s this basketball tournament at Margaret Hie Ding Lin Park," he started. "It’s in two weeks. Winning team splits five thousand dollars."

Her expression didn’t change. "And?"

"And I wanna play. Marcus tipped me the info, and I was hoping to get your permission before I round up a crew. That money could help us, Ma. It could help Cedric. His medicine ain’t cheap."

She shook her head before he even finished. "Tre, you know better than to ask me something like that. Not when it’s at that park. And what I told you about hanging with Marcus? That boy ain't nothing but trouble, selling drugs to the neighborhood. You stay your ass away from him, ya' hear?"

"Ma, come on-"

"No. I don’t wanna hear it. That park ain’t safe, especially at night. You think I’m gonna let you get caught up in something stupid over some money?"

"It’s not stupid!" Tre snapped, his frustration bubbling over. "I’m just trying to help! You’re always saying how tight things are, how you’re struggling to keep up. Now an opportunity pops up, and you're saying no? Ma, this could make a difference!"

"You think I don’t know that?" she shot back, her voice rising. "You think I don’t feel it every day? But you’re not risking your life for some tournament. And who’s supposed to watch Cedric while you’re out there?"

"I’ll figure it out," he said, desperation creeping into his tone. "Please, Ma. This could be the break we need."

Her eyes softened for a moment, but her resolve remained unshaken. "Tre... I’m not changing my mind. You’re not going, and that’s final."

Tre sucked his teeth in frustration. "You’re not even listening to me!"

"I am listening! I’m telling you no, and you need to respect that!"

The anger flared in him, hot and uncontrollable. He turned and stormed toward his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Tre!" his mother’s voice thundered through the apartment. "You don’t slam no doors in my house! I’ll come in there and whoop your ass, boy!"

Tre sits on his bed, gripping a basketball tightly, staring at the framed photo of him, Cedric, and their mother on his nightstand. His face is tense with determination and pride. He wasn’t giving up, he couldn’t. If his mother wouldn’t let him do it for her, he’d do it for Cedric. One way or another, he was entering that tournament...

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The early morning sun peeked over the rooftops of Englewood as Tre strolled into the bustling hallways of STEM High. He carried his basketball under one arm, the other jammed into the pocket of his hoodie. The upcoming tournament was all he could think about. Five thousand dollars, more money than he’d ever seen at once, was on the line, and Tre knew exactly what he’d do with his share. Tre spotted his friends Dante and Kevin by the lockers. Dante was cracking jokes as usual, his loud laugh echoing through the corridor, while Kevin nodded along, a bit more reserved.

“Yo, fellas,” Tre called out, gripping the ball tighter as he approached. “I got something big to talk about.”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “Big like what? You finally gonna show me how to cross somebody over without tripping?”

“Nah, bigger than that.” Tre smirked, letting the joke slide. “There’s this basketball tournament next weekend. Five-man teams. Winner takes home five grand.”

Dante’s eyes lit up. “Five G’s? Man, I’m in! I’m already seeing myself with some new kicks and a fresh fit.”

Tre chuckled. “Slow down, Dante. We ain’t won yet. We still gotta build a team. What about you, Kev?”

Kevin shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the straps of his backpack. “I don't know, Tre. I mean, you know I’m not exactly Steph Curry out there.”

Tre hesitated. He hated opening up about personal stuff, but he could see Kevin needed a reason to jump in. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Kev, keep this between us. This ain’t just about the money for me. My little brother, Cedric... He’s been in and out of the hospital, sick. The bills are killing my moms. If we win this, it could really help out.”

Kevin’s expression softened. He knew Tre didn’t talk about Cedric often, if at all. “Man, I didn’t know it was like that. Alright, I’m in. I’m not promising I’ll be any good, though. And don't worry, nothing about Cedric will slip from us.”

Dante clapped him on the back. “You betcha'. But don't worry, Kev. I’ll carry you if I have to, I usually do just like on 2K park.”

Tre laughed. “Appreciate it, y’all. Now we just need two more players...”

After school, Tre wandered through the neighborhood, racking his brain for recruits. His basketball spun lazily in his hand as he turned the corner near 63rd and spotted Marcus hanging out by the corner store.

“Yo, Marcus!” Tre called out, jogging over.

“What’s good, Tre?” Marcus dapped him up.

“You know anybody who can ball? I need two solid players for this tournament next week.”

Marcus grinned. “You’re in luck, man. I know just the guys. Eric and Jason. They’re tall, quick, and got handles for days. They’re usually hooping at Avalon Park around this time. I actually talked you up with them, so they're expecting you whenever you're ready to go over.”

Tre’s face lit up. “Bet. I’m heading over there now. Good looking out...”

At Avalon Park, the sound of sneakers squeaking against asphalt and basketballs thudding on the court filled the air. Tre spotted Eric and Jason immediately, two towering figures dominating a pickup game. They looked like they belonged in a college league, not just a neighborhood court. Tre waited until the game ended before stepping up.

“Yo, Eric, Jason. Marcus sent me. I’m putting a team together for the tournament next weekend. Heard y’all might be interested.”

Eric looked Tre up and down, his expression skeptical of the lanky kid in front of him. “You play?”

Tre bounced the ball a few times and spun it on his finger, Globetrotter style. “Yeah, I play. You down or not?”

Jason chuckled. “We don’t just roll with anybody, man. You gotta prove yourself.”

Eric nodded. “Game of 21. If you can beat us, we’ll talk.”

Tre didn’t flinch. “Say less...”

The game was intense from the start. Eric and Jason were as good as advertised, using their height and speed to their advantage. But Tre was relentless, weaving through their defense with ease and sinking shots from impossible angles. Sweat dripped from his brow as he hit the game-winning basket, a clean three-pointer that swished through the net.

Eric and Jason exchanged glances, then shared a slight grin. “Alright, you got us,” Eric admitted, clapping Tre on the back. “You’re the real deal.”

Jason nodded. “We’re in. Let’s win that money.”

Tre grinned, exhausted but satisfied. “Let’s do it. We got a week to get ready.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Tre felt a surge of determination. His team was set. Now, it was time to put in the work. For Cedric, for his family, and for the dream of something bigger...

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The crisp air of Avalon Park carried the faint sound of basketballs bouncing on the blacktop as Tre, Dante, and Kevin strolled onto the court after school. Eric and Jason were already there, towering over the younger kids who had been playing. They exchanged a look of skepticism as they saw who Tre brought along.

Eric folded his arms. “These the guys you’re rolling with, Tre?”

Jason smirked. “Man, I hope y’all got some kind of secret weapon.”

Tre stayed cool, spinning the ball in his hand. “Give us a chance. We’ve got a week to show you what we can do.”

They started scrimmaging, and it became obvious quickly that Kevin wasn’t much of a scorer. He fumbled passes and missed open shots, his confidence draining with each mistake. But midway through the practice, he stole the ball from Jason and zipped a quick pass to Dante, who converted it into a clean layup. A couple more plays, Kevin managed to steal the ball from Eric as well before whizzing the ball to Tre for the layup. Tre called for a timeout, pulling Kevin aside.

“Listen, Kev. Forget about scoring. You’re good at steals and passing, stick to that. We need somebody who can set up plays and shut down their offense. You got this.”

Kevin nodded, a glimmer of hope returning. “Alright, Tre. I’ll lock in.”

Through the week, the team began to gel. Eric and Jason brought power and height, dominating the paint. Dante was quick and flashy, keeping defenders on their toes. Kevin became the team’s defensive anchor, picking pockets and making smart plays. And Tre? Tre was the glue, the leader who could do it all. By Friday, they were ready. They had their share of weaknesses, but Tre believed in their chemistry. After their final practice, Tre was packing up when he spotted DeMika walking through the park with her friends. Her braids swayed with each step, and her laugh cut through the late afternoon air. As she passed the court, her eyes locked on Tre’s. She gave him a wink and a sly smile that made his heart skip a beat.

Dante noticed immediately. “Oh, here we go! DeMika giving you the eyes again. Bro, you know she’s with Andre, right?”

Tre shrugged, smirking. “And? Who says she’s really into him?”

"Don't forget what happened in home class, that day," Dante rebutted. Before Dante could push the topic further, Eric interrupted. “Yo, focus up. The tournament’s this weekend. Ain’t no time for distractions. We're just getting the hang of each other. We take what we practiced into the tournament, we should clean up nicely. Chase these skirts later.”

Tre nodded, letting the moment pass. He couldn’t afford to let anything pull him off his game. Money was on the table, and his portion was going to Cedric's care.

And so the weekend had finally began. The Chi-Town Ball Tournament was packed with spectators and teams from across the city. Tre’s squad cruised through the early rounds, but the semifinals tested their grit. They clawed their way to a narrow two-point victory, earning a spot in the championship tomorrow night. Sunday evening, the final game arrived. Tre’s mom was called into work, leaving him to look after Cedric. Seeing an opportunity, Tre decided to bring his little brother along.

Cedric’s face lit up as Tre dressed him warmly for the adventure. “We’re going to a game?” Cedric asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Yeah, lil’ man. Just for a bit. You get to see me do my thing,” Tre replied, smiling.

At the park, Tre entrusted Marcus to watch over Cedric while he joined his team. But as they prepared for the game, they learned their opponents: Andre’s squad.

Tre’s jaw tightened. “This just got interesting.”

The championship game was intense from the tip-off. Both teams traded buckets, neither willing to back down. As the clock ticked down, Andre decided to guard Tre personally. The crowd buzzed with anticipation. Tre welcomed the challenge. With the court cleared for isolation, he dribbled up, sizing Andre up. A quick crossover left Andre stumbling, and Tre pulled up for a smooth fadeaway.

The ball swished through the net, and the crowd erupted. Andre’s face darkened, but Tre’s team celebrated. They’d done it. Each of them received $1,000, along with championship caps and shirts.

As the crowd thinned, DeMika slipped away from Andre and approached Tre. “Congrats, Tre. You were amazing out there,” she said, her smile warm.

Before Tre could respond, Andre stormed over and sucker punched him. The punch sent Tre reeling, but his team jumped to his defense. Andre’s squad joined in, and the scene exploded into an all-out brawl. Shouts filled the air as the chaos escalated, and then, a gunshot rang out. The crowd scattered in every direction. Tre, clutching Cedric tightly, grabbed Marcus and bolted for the train station.

Breathing heavily, Tre glanced down at Cedric, who despite it all, was scared, yet smiling. “You okay, lil’ man? You're not hurt are you?”

Cedric nodded. “I'm okay! That was wild, Tre. You’re a champ!”

Tre managed a small laugh as they boarded the train that came on time to their arrival, leaving the chaos behind. ("Champion"), Tre reflected. ("If anything, I'm lucky. Had anything happened to you lil' bro, my life would be over.")

Despite the madness, they’d won. Tre was a $1,000 richer, and Cedric was safely back home without a hair out of place. For now, that was enough...

[six7]

lets get it

[The JZA]

Chapter III: Niccas Done Started Something

The shrill beep of Tre's alarm clock echoed through the dim room, jolting him awake. He groaned, reaching over to slap the snooze button, but the dull throb in his face reminded him of last night. Reluctantly, he swung his legs out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. The mirror confirmed his fears. His left eye was puffy and purple, swollen shut just enough to make him wince. Andre’s punch had landed harder than he thought. Tre exhaled sharply, leaning forward to inspect the damage.

“Man... how am I supposed to show up to school like this?” he muttered, dabbing at the bruise with a damp washcloth.

Tre played the events of the night before in his mind. The basketball tournament was supposed to be just a quick hustle, an easy way to make some cash for Cedric’s medicine. But when Andre and his crew started throwing hands, everything spiraled out of control. Gunshots rang out, people scattered, and Tre barely got Cedric out of there in time. Looking back at his reflection, Tre frowned. It wasn’t just the black eye he had to worry about, but his mother too. His mother had told him not to go to the basketball tournament. Worse, she explicitly said not to drag Cedric into any of his schemes. If she found out what happened, it would be the graveyard shift for him. Tre tiptoed down the hall to Cedric’s room. Cracking the door open, he saw his little brother still fast asleep, bundled under his blanket. His chest rose and fell peacefully. At least Cedric was safe. For now. The same could not be said for his mother as her feet hung off the bed, pushed from underneath the comforter. But with her back towards the door, Tre couldn't tell if she was asleep or not. Back in his room, Tre moved quietly, throwing on his clothes and grabbing his backpack. His heart pounded as he reached for the front door, carefully avoiding the squeaky floorboards. But just as he turned the knob, an authoritive voice stopped him dead cold in his tracks.

“Good morning, Tre.”

Tre froze. His mom stood behind him, arms crossed, her face a storm of fury and exhaustion.

"Good morning, Mom. I thought you were sleep, so I didn't want to wake you."

"Mhm", she wavers nonchalantly. "Before you leave for school, Tre, you care to explain something to me?"

Tre knew exactly what she was getting at, but he didn't know he she knew. But lying to her wouldn't do anything but make matters worse. “Mom, I—”

“Don’t. Even. Start,” she cut him off, voice sharp enough to slice through steel. “I called you at least five times last night. FIVE! And when you didn’t answer, I knew you were up to something.” She stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “And then I saw this.” She held up the envelope Tre had left on his nightstand.

Tre’s stomach dropped. Honest to Tre's thoughts, he swore he had put the money inside the nightstand, locked under key.

“You think I don’t know where this money came from? Or why your eye looks like that?” She says with her anger bubbling over. “Your monkey ass took your little brother to that fucking park tournament , when I told you not to, where people were shooting guns, Tre! Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to Cedric? Or to you?”

“I was trying to help!” Tre protested, his voice cracking. “Cedric needs that money for his medicine, at the very least. And you’ve been working so hard already. I just... I thought I could handle it.”

His mother’s face softened for a moment, but it quickly hardened again. “Handle it? Handle it? Tre, you don’t even know how to handle yourself!” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Just go to school, Tre. Go before I do something I’ll regret...”

Tre lowered his head, guilt and shame washing over him. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, slipping out the door.

The cold morning air bit at his skin as he walked toward Englewood STEM High School. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, typing a quick text to Marcus.

Tre: "Yo, need to talk after school. Meet me by the court."

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, hoping Marcus could help him figure out his next move. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, Tre felt an odd flapping under his foot. He looked down to see his favorite old pair of Nike Dunks. His lucky sneakers, ripped completely at the sole.

“Man, come-the fuck-on!” he exclaimed, crouching to inspect the damage. He tied the sole up with two strays of rubber bands he found in his backpack, but it was barely holding together. With a black eye, a furious mom, and busted sneakers, Tre trudged toward school. It was shaping up to be one of the worst days of his life. But deep down, he knew he’d do it all again for Cedric. Even if it cost him everything...

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The halls of Englewood STEM High School buzzed with energy, but for Tre, the noise was unbearable. He kept his head low, shoulders hunched as he navigated the crowded hallways. He could feel the weight of their stares and hear the whispers that followed him like a shadow.

"Yo, that’s the dude Andre messed up."
"Nah, I heard Andre and his whole crew jumped him."
"Man, look at his eye! He lucky he ain’t get worse. You don't go messing around with Andre's girl."

The rumors were ridiculous. Tre clenched his fists onto the straps of his backpack, resisting the urge to snap at anyone who dared to speak his name. Andre hadn’t jumped him. The truth was far simpler, and more humiliating. It was one punch, but that punch had wrecked his face and, worse, his pride. Some of Andre’s crew made it worse, laughing loudly whenever Tre walked by. A few had the nerve to call out mockingly.

"Hey, Tre! You want a rematch? I’ll call Andre for you! Maybe he can line your ugly ass with another black eye to match the one you got now!"

Tre’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Dante and Kevin tried to get his attention between classes, but Tre wasn’t in the mood to be calmed down. As soon as the final bell rang, he was out the door, slipping away before anyone could corner him. Tre arrived at the broken-down basketball court, the familiar smell of asphalt and rust filling his lungs. The old chain-link fence swayed gently in the breeze, and graffiti covered the backboards. He paced back and forth, the adrenaline from the day still surging through his veins.

Fifteen minutes later, the roar of an engine broke the quiet. Marcus pulled up in his murdered-out 2005 GT Mustang, the car sleek and menacing under the fading sunlight. The tires crunched over gravel as he parked, and Marcus stepped out, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto Tre.

“What’s good, Tre?” Marcus asked, his tone casual but his eyes scanning Tre’s face. The swollen black eye was impossible to miss. "Or more like, what's not good? Damn! Andre really wallop your ass with a good one, huh?"

After Tre gave Marcus the side eye, Tre hesitated, then let out a frustrated sigh. “I need Andre handled.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, leaning back against his car. “Handled, huh? What does that mean, exactly?”

“I don’t want him dead or nothing like that,” Tre clarified quickly. “I just... I want him to learn to keep his hands to himself. Teach him "that kind" of a lesson.”

Marcus smirked, his expression unreadable. “You sure about this? Messing with Andre could get messy. You ready to risk getting your hands dirty? Messing up your little basketball dreams?”

Tre’s jaw tightened. “No, I’m not ready. I don't even wanted to do this, but I’m not letting him punk me like this, man. I can’t.”

Marcus studied him for a moment, his smirk fading. “You got too much pride, Tre. That’s your problem. But I get it. Don't worry, I wouldn't let you tarnish your chances at your basketball dream.” Marcus shrugged and sighed. “I know Andre enough. I know what project he kicks it at. Some of my peoples live in his building. I’ll have him handled.”

Relief washed over Tre’s face, but Marcus wasn’t finished. “But you know me, Tre. Nothing’s free. If I do this, you owe me.”

Tre’s stomach knotted. He knew what Marcus’s favors entailed. “Yeah... I know... What do you want?”

Marcus leaned in, his voice low. “I’ve got a job lined up, a big one. All you gotta do is roll with me, keep your mouth shut, and follow my lead. Simple.”

Tre hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. But his pride wouldn’t let him back down. “Alright. I’m in.”

Marcus grinned, pushing off the car. “Good. Andre’ll be handled by the end of the week. You just make sure you’re ready when I call, and uh, keep that eye of yours on ice.”

Four days later, Andre’s reckoning arrived. Two men dressed in all black, black Timbs, black chinos, black hoodies with masks on, found him lounging outside the project building with one of his boys just as the night crept in. They didn’t say a word, just walked up with black baseball bats and got to work. Andre and his friend didn’t stand a chance as the blows kept coming fast and hard. By the time the men left, Andre was a broken mess, barely conscious on the cracked pavement.

Tre’s phone buzzed that evening, revealing a text message from Marcus.

Marcus: "Andre’s in good hands."

Tre stared at the message, his heart pounding. He knew Marcus was connected, but seeing it play out was something else entirely, would draw no lines in the sand. But Tre him-self, had crossed a line, and there was no going back. As much as he disliked Andre, the guilt gnawed at him a bit. Tre felt emasculated for not stepping to Andre him-self, having his friend fight his own battle. Not only that, he’d brought Marcus into it, and Marcus didn’t play fair, nor no games. Tre sighed, staring at the screen before laying back down onto his bed to stare at the ceiling, in a house that grew eerily quiet over the course of 24 hours. Childhood friends or not, Tre was in some deep shit. And the price for Marcus’s help would be steep...

[The JZA]

Chapter IV: It's In The Game

The crisp November air had a sharp bite as the winds swept through Englewood STEM High School’s courtyard. The leaves were scattered across the ground, a reminder of the season’s change. But the atmosphere inside the school had shifted even more dramatically, especially for Tre. Ever since Andre’s brutal beat down nearly a month ago, the once-intimidating figure had been almost invisible on campus. Word spread fast, and while there was no solid proof tying Tre to the attack, the timing and his newfound swagger were enough for people to connect the dots. Whispers followed Tre everywhere now, but they weren’t mocking him like before. They were filled with respect and fear. Andre’s circle of friends kept their distance, some nodding cautiously when they passed him, others avoiding his gaze entirely. Even DeMika, who had once been Andre’s girl, had made a sharp pivot. For the past couple of weeks, she’d been glued to Tre’s side, turning heads with their sudden and unexpected relationship. She made no effort to hide her affection, flaunting her new alignment like a trophy.

“Yo, Tre, what’s good with you, man?” Dante asked, stepping into Tre’s path as he exited the cafeteria. Kevin flanked him, arms crossed.

Tre blinked, surprised. “What you mean?”

“You’ve been acting real bougie lately,” Dante said bluntly. “Like you too good for the rest of us.”

Tre laughed a casual, dismissive sound. “Y’all tripping. Ain’t nothing changed.”

Kevin frowned. “Nah, man, you’ve been on some different energy ever since you started messing with DeMika. Acting like a big shot now.”

Tre shrugged, his grin unshaken. “Come on, y’all. I’m still me. DeMika ain’t changed nothing. I’m just... doing me, you feel me? I mean, it's new for me. And this is DeMika. Weren't you the one who told me to drop my nuts and make a move? Come on, we still boys.”

Dante narrowed his eyes. “Alright, then prove it. We on for 2K later, right? Or you gonna blow us off again?”

“I got you,” Tre promised, holding up his hands. “2K after school, no excuses.”

Before either of them could press further, DeMika appeared. She sauntered toward Tre, her thick hips swaying deliberately, her dark curls bouncing as she walked. The air seemed to shift as she approached, her presence commanding attention.

“Hey, babe,” she purred, sliding her arms around Tre’s waist. Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “Can I steal you for a minute?”

Tre glanced at Dante and Kevin, offering a cocky-like grin. “Catch you ladies later.”

The two watched silently as DeMika pull Tre away, disappearing around a corner.

In the nearly empty hallway section, DeMika pressed Tre against a locker, her hands tracing slow circles on his chest. Her eyes smoldered as she leaned in closer. “I’ve been waiting for this, Tre,” she murmured. “You know that, right?”

“Waiting for what?” Tre asked, though his voice was barely above a whisper.

“For you,” she said, her lips curling into a sly smile. “I’ve wanted you for a minute. Andre was just... A placeholder. But now that he’s out the way?” She leaned in, her breath warm against his neck. “I want you. All of you.”

Tre swallowed hard, his mind racing. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, especially not from someone like DeMika. But her words, her touch, and her confidence were intoxicating.

“What about Andre?” he asked, though his voice lacked conviction.

DeMika scoffed. “Andre? He’s old news. And after what happened to him, he knows better than to come around me. This is about us now.”

Her fingers trailed up to his face, brushing lightly against his bruised cheekbone. “You good with that?”

Tre hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I’m good with that.”

DeMika grinned. “Good. Then come over tonight. My Mom and sister are out of town, so it’s just me. You and me,” DeMika seductively enticed Tre as she knee-checked his manhood.

Tre’s pulse quickened. He had made plans with Dante and Kevin, but the thought of being alone with DeMika, of finally crossing that threshold, overrode his loyalty to his boys.

“Aight,” he said, his voice steadier now. “I’ll be there.”

As the day wound down, Tre found himself walking home with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He knew this was a turning point, not just with DeMika, but in his life. The stakes were higher now. His reputation, his relationships, and his choices were all part of a dangerous game of triangle he was just beginning to understand.

But tonight? Tonight, he wasn’t going to overthink it. Tonight was about DeMika.

And he wasn’t about to let this chance slip away.

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The gym buzzed with anticipation as the Englewood STEM Panthers took the court for their season opener. The stands were packed, the crowd loud and energetic. The school’s band played a lively tune, fueling the excitement in the air. But the mood quickly shifted as the Legal Prep Varsity Boys’ Basketball team came out swinging. Legal Prep’s hot hands sank shot after shot, their offense relentless. The Panthers struggled to keep up, their rhythm disjointed, their defense lagging. By the end of the first quarter, Legal Prep had built a commanding 15-point lead, 22-7. The crowd’s cheers grew quieter, replaced by murmurs of concern.

“Tre, you’re in,” Coach Allen barked, his voice cutting through the noise.

Tre stood from the bench, a mix of nerves and determination coursing through him. He adjusted his jersey, locked eyes with the court, and jogged onto the hardwood. Legal Prep’s pace was fierce, but Tre’s sharp eyes caught the cracks in their armor, fatigue was setting in. Tre’s first possession was a clean jump shot from the baseline. The ball kissed the net, drawing a roar from the crowd. He didn’t celebrate, instead motioning for his teammates to reset.

“Move the ball!” Tre shouted as they came down the court again. “Trust me—just keep it moving!”

Though he wasn’t a point guard, his commanding tone and confidence rallied the team. They began to follow his lead, executing pick-and-rolls, fast breaks, and precise passes. Tre sank another shot, then drove into the lane for a layup. His energy was infectious, lifting the Panthers back into contention. By halftime, the score was even. In the locker room, the team buzzed with renewed energy. Coach Allen paced back and forth, a grin breaking across his face.

“Great job out there!” he exclaimed. “You see what happens when you play as a team? That’s what I’m talking about! Keep that ball moving, keep the pressure on them. They’re breaking down and we’re just getting started!”

As the players shouted in agreement, Coach Allen pulled Tre aside.

“You’re doing good, kid,” he said, his voice quieter but firm. “But now’s your time to really show them. Set the tone for the season. Let those scouts in the crowd know who they’re watching tonight.”

Tre nodded, his heart pounding. “I got you, Coach.”

The second half belonged to Tre. He played like a man possessed, sinking jumpers, driving through defenders, and dishing out no-look passes. His confidence radiated as he slashed through Legal Prep’s defense, drawing fouls and knocking down free throws. Every possession, every shot seemed to flow through him. The crowd was on their feet, chanting his name as he racked up point after point. By the final buzzer, Tre’s stat line was astonishing: 44 points, 6 assists, and 7 rebounds. The scoreboard read STEM Panthers 75, Legal Prep 64. The gym erupted. The band struck up a victory song, and the crowd swarmed the court, celebrating the Panthers’ triumphant start to the season. Tre’s teammates hoisted him into the air, chanting his name. Amid the celebration, Tre spotted Dante and Kevin slipping out of the gymnasium. He pushed through the crowd, calling after them.

“Yo! Where y’all going?” Tre asked, catching up to them outside.

Kevin shrugged. “Congrats on the win, man. You killed it out there.”

“Yeah,” Dante added, his tone cooler. “But we’re out. You got bigger things now, right? We’re just the 2K guys you don’t have time for anymore.”

The words hit Tre like a gut punch. Memories of their earlier conversation flooded back—he had promised to hang out with them after school, but the rush of the game and DeMika’s distractions had swept it from his mind.

“Aw, man,” Tre said, running a hand over his head. “I forgot, for real. That’s on me. Look, I’m sorry. Let me make it up to y’all.”

Kevin shook his head. “It’s cool. We’re good.”

“Nah, for real,” Tre insisted. “I’ll come through tonight, no excuses. We’ll run some games, just like old times.”

Dante looked at him, his expression softening slightly. “Alright. We’ll see if you keep your word this time.”

Tre nodded firmly. “Bet. I’m still me. Y’all my boys, and that’s never gonna change.”

As his friends walked away, Tre stood in the chilly November night, determined not to let his success come at the expense of the people who had been with him from the start...