Kendrick returned home from the visit with a new sense of purpose. State University felt like the real deal, a place where he could grow, compete, and build a future. But as he stepped off the bus and walked through his neighborhood, the weight of reality settled back onto his shoulders.
The familiar sights of cracked sidewalks, graffiti-covered walls, and distant sirens reminded him that he wasn't out yet. And he knew Trenton hadn't forgotten.
When Kendrick reached his apartment, he found another note waiting for him, taped to the door. His stomach churned as he unfolded it.
"We're not done, K-Dawg. Midnight. Same court."
Kendrick's grip tightened on the paper. He was tired of this. Tired of the threats, the games, the constant pull back to a life he was trying to leave behind. He knew he couldn't ignore this challenge—not if he wanted to move forward.
At midnight, Kendrick arrived at the old court. The air was cold, and the streetlights cast long shadows across the cracked asphalt. Trenton was waiting, a basketball in his hands.
"You came," Trenton said, his voice calm but laced with tension.
Kendrick dropped his bag and stepped onto the court. "This ends tonight, Trent. No more games."
Trenton smirked. "You really think you're walking away from all this? From us?"
"I don't think," Kendrick said firmly. "I know."
The two stared each other down, the unspoken history between them heavy in the air. Trenton bounced the ball once, then passed it to Kendrick.
"First to 21," Trenton said. "Winner takes it all."
Kendrick caught the ball, his resolve solidifying. "Let's play."