Little Lowry

Speaking of "preaching," Little Lowry, who'd be playing basketball with them later, was a rookie rapper. His first promotional single had started climbing the local radio charts, and several well-known Chicago DJs had played it at one time or another. The reviews seemed pretty good, and Tony had let slip that his debut album was almost ready.

Song Ya hadn't heard that promotional single, and since crossing over, he'd only met Little Lowry once. Still, he and his family, including Aunt Susie, generally supported Tony hanging around with Little Lowry. Most rappers were tangled up with gangs these days, but that was still better than joining a real gang, wasn't it?

When one rap "sermon" ended, the DJ immediately came on: "That was 'Express Yourself' by N.W.A.! Next, let's change things up, ladies and gentlemen. 'Man in the Mirror,' by Michael Jackson!"

As soon as the intro started, Silencer changed the station. He kept twisting the dial back and forth, unable to find anything he liked, while the radio gave off a steady stream of grating noise.

"Why not just listen to MJ?"

Michael Jackson was at the height of his fame, and Song Ya had heard plenty of his songs since crossing over, both by choice and by chance. He liked them all. The lyrics to "Man in the Mirror" had real depth, and that song had made a particularly strong impression on him.

"He betrayed us!"

Tony suddenly grew agitated. "For all these years, we gave him our wholehearted support. And what did we get in return!? He's ashamed of us! Ashamed to be Black!" He pointed out the car window. "Look! Just look at how white he is now!"

Song Ya looked. There was a giant Pepsi ad featuring MJ by the roadside. His face was, well, certainly very white.

"Traitor," Silencer spat out. He'd finally found a station he liked, and it was playing rap too.

"You're making that up, right?"

Could a Black man win over white people by making himself white? Wouldn't that just piss Black people off while making white people look down on him? Song Ya's instincts told him Tony's claim made no sense.

"Whatever. That's what everyone says."

Tony went on, "Those white people control the world. They're doing this to crush our self-respect so we'll stay their slaves. Plastic surgery, you know? You can change your whole face. Bleaching someone can't be that hard."

"Area 51," Silencer blurted out again.

"Right! The white people already caught aliens ages ago! But they chose to hide the aliens' technology instead of using it to benefit the people. They're using it to fight a world war against the USSR!" Tony was getting more and more carried away. "Once they've settled who wins, they'll turn around and come after us, making Black people their slaves all over again!"

"Uh... okay." Song Ya gave up and decided not to argue with him.

Tony still wasn't done. "And there's another Mike who's no good either. I heard—I heard a lot of big shots on the South Side want him dead!"

"Jordan?"

Song Ya was stunned. Michael Jordan was a star player for the Bulls and the darling of all Chicago.

"Not Michael! Mike! Mike Tyson!" Tony corrected him.

"I know, I know about that."

A few days ago, heavyweight champion Tyson had been upset at odds of 42 to 1. Song Ya had heard that a lot of gang bosses lost money on the fight.

The place where they'd arranged to meet Little Lowry wasn't far. After two songs, the three of them arrived at their destination: a public basketball court enclosed by a chain-link fence beside a small park. The area was much nicer than the neighborhood around Song Ya's home. It was close to a shopping street, surrounded by high-rise apartments, and police cars occasionally cruised past the entrance. The people playing there dressed much more fashionably, too.

Little Lowry was already waiting. He was about the same age as Tony, a little shorter than Song Ya, and very skinny. He was unusually handsome for a Black man, with dreadlocks on top of his head. Wearing headphones, he listened to music and casually dribbled as he warmed up. A little farther off, two Black men stood by the basketball hoop chatting. One looked about twenty-five or twenty-six, while the other seemed to be in his thirties.

After finding a place to park, Tony got out first and called out loudly, "Hey! Bro~"

"Hey!"

Little Lowry took off his headphones, smiled, and walked over. He and Tony exchanged an elaborate series of fist bumps, as did he and Silencer.

When it was Song Ya's turn, they got the first gesture right. But when they switched to knocking their fists together from below, Song Ya had the order mixed up. The two of them awkwardly swung their fists at empty air a few times, never quite connecting.

Song Ya pulled his fist back and gave an awkward but polite smile.

Little Lowry stifled a laugh. "Forget it, don't worry about that." Then he patted Song Ya on the shoulder. "Come on, let me introduce you to everyone."

The two men who'd been by the hoop came over as well. The younger one was Little Lowry's bandmate. He introduced himself as Al.

"You're the one who..." Tony perked up when he saw Al. He held one hand up as if gripping a microphone and cupped it by his mouth. "Bum-ts-da-ts, boom-boom-boom..." He imitated a stretch of incomprehensible beatboxing.

"Ye..." Al chuckled, then put on a little performance of his own.

He was much more professional. If Song Ya closed his eyes, he might really have thought a drum kit had appeared beside him.

Tony gave him a thumbs-up.

The older one worked for a record company and wasn't as easygoing as Al. "Everyone calls me AK." Then he exchanged fist bumps with the three of them.

Now that all six had met, Little Lowry casually handed his portable CD player, jacket, and other belongings to AK. The others took off their jackets and other things they didn't need and left them under the basketball hoop.

It was a regular three-on-three half-court game. There was no way Little Lowry's small frame could match up against Tony and Silencer, two big, strong football players. Song Ya knew that was why Tony had insisted on bringing him along, so he volunteered to guard Little Lowry.

Put simply, apart from Little Lowry, the other five weren't really there to play basketball. They were there to keep him company. And if they were keeping him company, they had to make sure he had fun. So they all understood the unspoken agreement: whenever Little Lowry had the ball, they'd give him plenty of room and let him go one-on-one with Song Ya.

Crossovers, behind-the-back dribbles, fakes and spins, quick changes of direction in front of his body—Little Lowry clearly had a solid foundation. He had a whole repertoire of ball-handling moves, and he was fast both when turning and dribbling. Song Ya had been blown past when he guarded him last time, and he'd improved a little since crossing over, but that was all.

Time passed slowly, and the shouts on the court blended with the steady thump of the basketball.

Song Ya's body was genuinely in good shape. Little Lowry blew past him again and again, leaving him trailing behind in the dust, but aside from feeling a little worn out, Song Ya had no problem keeping up physically.

"Maybe I can still salvage my PE credit?"

Distracted for just a moment, he fell for a fake and lost his balance, landing hard on his backside. When he looked back, Little Lowry had already made the layup and was celebrating with his tongue out, imitating Jordan.

"Time out! Let's take a break."

AK, who'd been guarding Silencer, was the first to call it quits. Silencer wasn't as easygoing as Tony. He was relentless when he used his body in the paint, and his fullback's build had worn AK down. Al, meanwhile, was still guarding Tony and looked perfectly fine.

"Aw, come on, AK! I've barely warmed up!" Little Lowry called out in disappointment, holding the ball. He really enjoyed going one-on-one with Song Ya.

"I can't do it. I can't," AK said, raising both hands as he retreated to the sideline.

Silencer stood where he was, grinning sheepishly.

"Want to play?" Three young Black men waiting on the next court came over and asked.

"Sure," Little Lowry agreed.

"Ya Li!" Tony gave Song Ya a look.

"Then you guys go ahead and play."

Song Ya followed Tony off the court, leaving Little Lowry, Al, and Silencer to play.

They'd been sitting down to rest for less than ten minutes when an incident suddenly broke out on the court. Little Lowry had probably been stripped of the ball several times in a row. When he rushed to steal it back, he ran headfirst into the opponent's elbow, which had dropped whether intentionally or not, and went down hard.

"FXXX!" He got back up, furious and embarrassed, and shoved the other player.

The other guy didn't let him get away with it. "Can't take losing? You play like a girl!" He shoved back, cursing as he did.

The six men on the court quickly gathered together, and the "battle" escalated. AK hurried to his feet and rushed over to help.

Song Ya turned his head and saw Tony spring up like a startled rabbit, but instead of heading for the court, he sprinted toward Silencer's Toyota Eagle at the side. About half a minute later, he came charging back and plunged into the crowd, putting himself in front of Little Lowry.

"Hey!"

He lifted the hem of his T-shirt, revealing the black gun tucked into his waistband. His eyes were as vicious as Mike Tyson's. "How far do you want to take this? NGer! Hm? How far do you want to take this?"