Prodigy

Birds of a Feather

The match the following week was, in fact, more then a match for Zane. Of course, he didn't think it important enough to mention to Locke - why bother - but Locke obviously picked up on it when Zane's demeanour shifted from his usual grumpy to solely focused on practice.

Zane didn't even notice when Locke started to leave him alone after school and reduce the text count.

This match was one of the ones that would help secure his future. Outside the big competitions he'd compete in, this was one that would help get him where he wanted to go.

So he had no time for anyone that week, let alone Locke.

He would win, of course. He knew this team; he and his team hadn't lost to them in three years. No matter how much they tried and how good they became, Day Collage was always better.

His mother didn't attend the match. She had said she would but she didn't. Zane knew she wouldn't, though he still glanced up to the stands before the whistle of the first quarter. Jessica was there, of course, along with Eddie and Tia. Jess waved wildly when she saw him looking, giving an exaggerated thumbs-up and Zane rolled his eyes at her, smiling.

There was an empty seat beside her.

The whistle blew and he didn't look into the stands again as his focus zeroed in on the team before him.

They won. As predicted, they won.

101 to 92.

Forty of those points were scored by Zane.

That was exactly what he wanted, a winning match that made him shine.

Why? Because of one particular man in the crowd. He didn't speak to Zane at the end of the match but that was alright, Zane knew he had all the attention and he'd shown the man what he'd wanted to see.

This was what Zane needed.

What followed was a usual after-match evening. There was a team meeting where everyone discussed the match they'd just played and matches they would be playing in the future. An analysis of the next team they'd be playing. The tournament they'd soon compete in.

And then home.

Or Zane's preferred basketball court in his case. Not home yet, he couldn't go home until much closer to two in the morning.

The court was empty by the time he got there, even the 'bad boys' of London's East End weren't going to bother wasting time around the courts at night in November - a pub was a much better hang out.

Swinging onto the court, Zane tossed the ball straight into the air, watching it sail in a high arch over the concrete and straight into the hoop, making him smile.

"Eh still so energetic," someone said behind him as arms slid around his waist and he almost jumped back over to chain link fence.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled, looking over his shoulder at Locke and trying to wrestle his arms off. Locke clung on, his grip tightening as he settled his cheek against Zane's back.

"Jessica told me you'd be here after the match."

"Jessica likes to tell you everything, doesn't she," Zane grumbled, marching across the court to collect the ball - dragging Locke along behind him.

"She just likes to keep me in the loop."

"I don't know why."

"Didn't I say we were best friends?"

"Since when did you and I become best friends?"

"Don't worry, it can be one sided."

"That's not how is works."