Goodman Shawn - This Way Home

ELIJAH STOOD TALL at the top of the key, thinking, watching, waiting for something to happen. The other team had played a nearly perfect game, but several players were beginning to tire and show weakness. A point guard lagged half a step behind, breathing through his mouth, sucking in air in desperate gasps. And the power forward, the one with shoulders as broad as a house, slouched like a tired kid at the end of a long day.

Now, said Coach Walters in his big, final-seconds voice. Do it now.

But Elijah would not be rushed. There was time, and he knew what to do. He dribbled slowly, languidly, until he made eye contact with Michael, the center, who was also one of his oldest and closest friends. Michael responded immediately, stomping his tree-trunk legs on the varnished maple planks, two hundred and fifty pounds screeching to a halt and obliterating his opponents momentum in a perfect, albeit somewhat violent, pick.

Elijahs coach paced the sidelines, booming instructions over the noise of the crowd. Something about running the number-three offense, which would put Elijah in the middle of the lane and likely draw double or even triple coverage. No, his team didnt need number three. They needed to get the ball into the hands of Dylan, a hyperkinetic wisp of a kid who could cram three or four moves into the time it took other players, even really good players, to bring off one. Dylan, Elijahs other best friend, who could pull the most difficult pass out of thin air with his skinny rubber-band arms and legs.

Elijah passed the ball and made his move toward the goal.

One step.

Two steps.

He turned his head in time to see Dylan pluck the ball from the air. The skinny boy brought it down and hooked it around his back, a beauty of a pass that was crisp and perfectly timed. Elijah received it midstride and felt his whole body set free, spinning and gliding around players, all rhythm and balance and movement as he made his inexorable way toward the hoop. He launched off his right foot into the air, arm outstretched. Body climbing. The ball practically glued to his palm, ready to be slammed home in an epic final play.

Elijahs teammates lifted him off his feet.

Hows it feel to be state champs? yelled one of them.

Not as good as I thought it would, said Elijah, even though he knew it was not the correct thing to say. Winning State had been his teams goal for three years, and you were supposed to be happy when you reached your goal. Actually, you were supposed to go wild and jump on each other and say things like I cant believe it. This is the best day of my life.

You werent supposed to say what hed said.

But the noise in the gym blasted hard off the walls and the floor, leaving little chance of his words reaching anyone. Instead, the waves of his teammates excitement rolled over Elijah. Shouts, bear hugs, and affectionate slaps on the back. He continued to force a smile and allowed himself one last chance to scan the bleachers for the man in the photo he kept under his bedhis father, who, predictably, had not come to watch him play.

Why would you even think he would?

Coach Walters pulled Elijah away from the rest of the team. His expression was unreadable. We need to talk.

I know, said Elijah. I should have run the play you called for. Im sorry.

Youre sorry? Coach Walters laughed. You did exactly the right thing. Im proud to be your coach, even if what youre doing out there to win isnt coming from me.

Elijah started to explain, but his coach held up a hand. We need to talk about college. Finding the right school and getting you on their radar for a scholarship.

Ive gotten a few letters, said Elijah.

Well, after tonight youre going to be getting a lot more. Coach Walters put a hand on Elijahs shoulder. Now go over there and give your mother a hug. Celebrate with your teammates. Well talk tomorrow; Ive got a couple of ideas.

But Elijah was already formulating his own idea. He knew his father was still out there somewhere. Maybe far away, in a different state. Maybe he hadnt even heard that his son was going to play in the state championship. But if there were a bigger tournament, something so big and famous that it would be televised nationally, like on ESPN, and Elijahs team made it to the finalshe would come.