Chapter 41: Final Shot

The score was 20-19, Kendrick's lead. Every muscle in his body ached, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. He bent slightly, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Trenton stood at the top of the key, bouncing the ball rhythmically, his eyes boring into Kendrick.

"You think you've got this, don't you?" Trenton said, his voice calm but sharp, like a blade. "One point away from leaving it all behind."

Kendrick straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's not about leaving, Trent. It's about moving forward. You can't understand that, can you?"

Trenton snorted, shaking his head. "I understand plenty. I understand loyalty. I understand not forgetting where you came from."

"Loyalty doesn't mean staying stuck," Kendrick shot back, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. "You're just scared. Scared that if I make it, it means you didn't."

Trenton's jaw tightened. For a moment, Kendrick thought he might swing at him instead of taking the shot. But then Trenton smiled, cold and sharp.

"Let's finish this."

Trenton dribbled forward, his movements precise and controlled. Kendrick stepped up, positioning himself to cut off any drive. Trenton jab-stepped left, then crossed to the right, trying to fake him out. Kendrick didn't bite. He stayed with him, forcing Trenton to pivot back.

The game slowed down in Kendrick's mind, his instincts taking over. He watched Trenton's feet, his shoulders, the angle of the ball. Trenton spun suddenly, pulling up for a mid-range jumper. Kendrick anticipated the move, leaping just in time to block the shot cleanly.

The ball ricocheted off Kendrick's hand and rolled toward the sideline. He bolted after it, grabbing it just before it went out of bounds. The adrenaline surged through him as he turned and sprinted toward the opposite hoop, his sneakers squeaking against the asphalt.

Trenton was on him in an instant, his footsteps pounding like a drumbeat behind Kendrick. The old court seemed to shrink, the hoop growing closer and closer. Kendrick stopped abruptly at the three-point line, planting his feet and spinning around. Trenton lunged, but Kendrick faked, stepping to the side.

With one deep breath, Kendrick rose for the shot. Time seemed to slow as the ball left his hands, spinning in a perfect arc toward the hoop. The world fell silent, the weight of everything—his dreams, his struggles, his fears—hanging in the air with the ball.

Swish.

The sound of the ball passing through the net echoed in the empty court. Kendrick landed lightly, the realization of what had just happened washing over him like a tidal wave. He had won.

He bent over, hands on his knees again, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. Trenton stood still, staring at the hoop as if he couldn't believe what he'd just seen. Slim and Mo-G exchanged uncertain glances, their confidence in Trenton visibly shaken.

Kendrick finally straightened, meeting Trenton's gaze. "It's over, Trent."

Trenton let out a harsh laugh, his voice laced with bitterness. "You think this changes anything, K-Dawg? One game doesn't erase where you came from."

"No," Kendrick said, his voice firm. "But it proves I don't have to stay there."

Trenton's smirk faltered. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he turned and started walking away. Slim hesitated, looking between Kendrick and Trenton, before following. Mo-G gave Kendrick a long, unreadable look before muttering, "You've got guts, man," and trailing after the others.

Kendrick stood alone on the court, the sound of their footsteps fading into the night. The cold air pressed against his skin, but he barely noticed. For the first time in a long time, he felt light—free.

But the victory was bittersweet. As much as he wanted to celebrate, he knew this wasn't the end. Trenton's words lingered in his mind: "One game doesn't change anything."

Kendrick sat on the steps of his apartment building, staring at the city skyline. The events of the night replayed in his mind, every move, every word, every shot. He had won, but the tension in his chest hadn't eased. Trenton wouldn't let this go. The streets wouldn't let this go.

The door behind him creaked open, and his mom stepped out, wrapping a shawl tightly around her shoulders. "You've been out here a while," she said softly, sitting down next to him. "Everything okay?"

Kendrick hesitated. He hadn't told her about the game, about the threats, about Trenton's refusal to let him move on. He didn't want to worry her, but the weight of it all felt unbearable.

"I had to play Trenton tonight," he admitted quietly. "One-on-one. He said if I won, they'd back off."

His mom's expression tightened, worry creasing her brow. "And did they?"

Kendrick looked down at his hands, the calluses from endless hours of practice rough against his palms. "I don't know. He walked away, but it didn't feel like the end."

She sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Kendrick, you've got something they don't—hope. And hope scares people who've given up. Trenton sees you fighting for something better, and it reminds him of what he's lost. That's why he's holding on so tight."

"But what if he doesn't let go?" Kendrick asked, his voice trembling slightly. "What if I can't get away from this?"

His mom squeezed his shoulder. "You've already proven you can. Tonight, you stood your ground. You showed him you're not afraid. Keep doing that, baby. Keep pushing forward, no matter what."

Kendrick nodded, her words settling over him like a warm blanket. He wasn't just fighting for himself. He was fighting for her, for everything she'd sacrificed to give him this chance. He couldn't let fear hold him back.

The next morning, Kendrick woke early, his body sore but his mind clearer than it had been in weeks. The sun filtered through his window, casting a golden glow over his room. He grabbed his basketball from the corner and held it in his hands, the familiar weight grounding him.

Today was a new day. The showcase was still fresh in the scouts' minds, and the visit to State University had opened doors he hadn't even dreamed of. Trenton might not let go, but Kendrick was done letting him dictate his life.

He headed to the gym, the sound of sneakers and bouncing balls greeting him like an old friend. Jamal was already there, shooting free throws.

"Yo, K-Dawg!" Jamal called, jogging over with a grin. "Heard you shut Trenton down last night. That true?"

Kendrick smirked, spinning the ball in his hands. "You could say that."

Jamal laughed, clapping him on the back. "Man, you're a legend. Now let's get to work. Showcase or not, we've got a season to prep for."

As Kendrick stepped onto the court, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The fight wasn't over, but for the first time, he truly believed he could win.