Broken Strings (Prodigy: 2)

On The Court

Locke sat slumped in his seat, down low, arms crossed, beanie-hat and sunglasses on, even though he was inside in a hot stadium with lights pouring down on the basketball court below.

Jessica sat beside him, elbows on her knees, knuckles to her lips as she watched the game, eyes glued with concentration as she watched Zane.

He was weaving through the opposing team, in and out, around and back, like a dance, the ball part of him as he slid through a tiny gap, startling the men who had tried to stop him, bypassing the men at the basket before launching into the air, arm raise, back arched before he slammed the ball through the hoop and his side of the crowd roared with appreciation while the opponents grumbled and hissed.

"Man, I haven't seen him play in person since we left sixth form," Jessica said, her knees bouncing slightly from the excitement of seeing her best friend in action again. "Isn't he amazing?"

"Yeah, amazing," Locke muttered.

And he was. Breathtakingly amazing. His movements were like a dance, fluid, honed, easy and effortless; he smiled where other players frowned in concentration. Any point gained by the opponents rolled off his shoulders without catching because he would earn the points back soon after or assist another player.

He was so in his element it was somewhat hypnotising.

Locke had heard he was hypnotising when on stage, he understood what people meant if he was anything like this. Zane drew everyone's eye; both men and women watched him, momentarily falling in love.

Locke adjusted his beanie and sunk lower in his seat.

He wanted to go and never leave the courts at the same time. He wanted to keep watching Zane play and that annoyed him.

When they'd been younger, he loved watching Zane in the spotlight – the only person he'd ever wanted to watch in the spotlight.

Zane had been more serious on the courts then. He'd been fighting for a future that wasn't assuredly in his grasp. He'd been fighting for something that would mean a better life for him.

He'd won that life. Or at least the first stage.

The pressures of the world had eased off him because of that and he could truly enjoy the sport he had been born to play.

And he loved it.

He loved basketball. It was everything to him.

Locke couldn't understand that passion. He had been born for music, but he wasn't sure loved it – not like Zane.

He glanced down at his fingers, flexing the instruments of genius. He wasn't jealous of Zane was he? He didn't begrudge him his place in the world, did he?

Surely not. He'd wanted Zane to succeed in his sport. He'd wanted Zane to stay with him in the UK because he would have missed him. But he didn't envy him. There wasn't anything to envy about a poor kid from the poor side of town.

A gasp from the crowd made him look up just in time to see Zane take a tumble, an opponent snatching the ball as Zane hit the ground, rolling off the courts, colliding with his own teammates on the bench.

"What the hell?" Jessica shouted as Locke sat bolt upright. "Foul! Oh my god, what the hell, ref?"

The ref didn't call it and the crowd started booing.

Locke leant forwards, watching as Zane got to his feet, smiling at his coach and shaking his head, rubbing his shoulder before jogging back onto the court, his centre coming over to check on him.