THE WAY: TEEN TALKS

“Every morning I drop my basketball in my bag. I don’t know why I still bring it — maybe I just don’t want to give up.”

Nelson reach school early, like he always does. His mummy done gone to work before sunrise — hotel shift long and rough. He’s an only child, quiet, respectful, and never in mix-up.

But school ain’t easy. Not when you’re bigger than the other boys and your skin dark like the evening sea.

At break time, the basketball boys take over the court. They loud, confident, laughing like they own the place.

“Boy, look who come again with that ball!” one shout.

“You even could run, big man?” another one tease.

Nelson just smile small and keep walking. He don’t answer. He never does.

During class he stay quiet. The basketball boys always talking loud, showing off, making everybody laugh. Teachers like Nelson — say he polite and bright — but they don’t see the way the jokes cut deep.

When the bell ring for lunch, he and a few other boys go behind the court. They play by themselves — no crowd, no show-off, just fun. That’s when Nelson really light up. He could dribble, shoot, pass — all that. But nobody from the team ever watch.

The try-outs come and go. His name ain’t on the list. He pretend like he don’t care, but deep down it sting.

Home that evening, he sit on the bed holding the ball. Mummy tired, fast asleep. He whisper to himself, “One day they gon’ see me play.”

And next morning, he bring the ball again.