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I continue the last part of my run to school with a light jog, I have a long frame, and I'm the perfect mix between skinny and bulky. My muscles aren't too big or too small, allowing me to move with fluidity and finesse around the court. I'm a 5 star small forward all-American, number 1 in all charts and prospects. It sucks that I can't go straight to the NBA after high school. I'm stuck having to do a one-and-done college season, but that's a year away.
I see the school off in the distance, and I pick up the pace. I make it to the front doors, and they should be letting students in since it's 6 am. I walk up to the door now that my run is over, and I pull it open. I have to duck, so I don't hit my head on the door frame. "Right on time, Mr. Kennedy." I hear the familiar voice, and I see the attendance checker. I smile and walk up to the window. She hands me a snickers bar and scoots me off.
She is the only person who gives me candy anymore. I start my way down the hall and to the stairs leading to the floor to the gym. I slowly climb the stairs and make it to the next floor. I can see the gym from here, I make my way towards it, and I stop to look at the trophy case. In the last 3 years, we have won both the state championship and national championship. I have so many amazing memories of these past years.
I've grown over the summer again, and before the summer started, I was 6'8. So the recruiters for colleges are going to be surprised. "You've grown again... I didn't think you would." I turn and see a man in a suit. This guy is Terrance Riley. A recruiter for UCLA, I have spoken to so many men in suits lately. "You've had an amazing high school career, and while it sucks, you can't go straight to the NBA. You still need to pick a college to play at." I turn my attention back to the trophy case.
I'm not going to focus on any of that. I'm still a kid. I want to enjoy it while I can. "I admire your tenacity Terrance, but I'm not making any decisions. I'm only going to focus on this final season of high school. I'm going to leave an imprint here. Do you have a place to stay here or something? Cause you are here all basketball season." I wouldn't doubt the college pays for a place he stays while he is here. UCLA spends a lot of money when it comes to sports prospects.
He walks up beside me and looks into the trophy case as well. "You are the most valuable player I've seen in my 30 years of scouting. You have it all Ulysses, shooting, dribbling, rebounding. Not to mention blinding speed and athleticism. I'm guessing your 7'0 feet or taller now with shoes, and even through all your growth spurts. You never lost the gifts guards have over the big man. Your nickname Singularity fits you perfectly." I chuckle as he talks. I didn't realize the fame that would come with being as good as I am.
I can't go places deeply rooted in basketball, or I'm instantly recognized. "Not to mention how efficient you are. You are 54% from three, 68% from the field, and 96% from the line. You don't take more than 25 shots a game and averaged 44 points, 13 rebounds, 8 assists, 3 blocks, and 1 steal." I look at him with a tilted head. I'm several inches taller than he is. "I know that you don't like people talking about you, but you are a black hole in a sky of stars. I met you when you were 15 and led your team to its first championship ever. Don't get me wrong. John is talented. Not like you, though." John and Kenny are playing D1 ball now.
When I showed up, I made them so mad they pushed themselves to the absolute limit. I made them better, and I'll meet them in the NBA one day. "I need to practice Terrance, don't stay too long. Someone might think you're looking for a new young girlfriend." He looks down, chuckling. I turn from the trophy case and make my way to the gym doors and open them.
I step onto the court and pull my basketball out from its bag. I dribble it a couple of times and look around the court. That's when I see the principal Mrs. Blake talking to some more men in suits and people with cameras.
They see me, and the guy she is talking to orders the cameras to start rolling. It must be scouts. I should've known better. Terrance wouldn't be the only one here. I turn away and start to shoot and run some drills, and as I'm going through the long list of exercises I have.
I hear the clicking of cameras and whispers whenever I complete a move. "I'm getting real sick of this crap..." I whisper to myself as I notice more scouts come in through the gym doors. I hear Mrs. Blake shout at some and try to run them off, but they have lawyers with them that pull strings to let them stay and watch.
Some rule allows college recruiters to watch top prospects without restriction from the school currently harboring said prospect. Pretty sneaky, but not my problem. I continue the drills and occasionally see them right things down too. "Just so everyone knows! Your right. I did grow again! I'm 6'11 without shoes on!" I might as well throw them a bone. I haven't missed any shots either. When I said that, I watched all of them pull out phones and make calls. The ones with cameras took more pictures, and the whispers turned into full-blown conversations. All about me, but what else is new.