Little Lowry

Speaking of "chanting," Little Lowry, who we were going to play ball with later, is a rookie rapper. His first promotional single has already started climbing the local radio charts. Several well-known DJs in Chicago have been pushing it one after another, and the reviews seem pretty good. According to Tony, his debut album is coming soon too.

Song Ya hasn't heard that promotional single, and he's only met Little Lowry once since he transmigrated. However, he and his family, including Aunt Susie, are generally supportive of Tony "hanging out" with Little Lowry. Even though the vast majority of rappers nowadays are entangled with gangs, it's still better than joining a real gang, right?

As the rap "chant" finished, the DJ immediately followed up: "That was Express Yourself from N.W.A! Next, let's switch it up. Ladies and gentlemen, Man In The Mirror, from Michael Jackson!"

The moment the intro started, Silencer reached out and changed the station. He twisted the dial back and forth without finding anything he liked, and the radio continued to emit an ear-piercing static.

"What's wrong with listening to MJ?"

Michael Jackson is at the peak of his career right now. Since transmigrating, Song Ya has heard his songs both actively and passively, and he likes them all very much. The lyrics to Man In The Mirror are quite profound, leaving a particularly deep impression on him.

"He betrayed us!"

Tony suddenly became a bit agitated. "So many years, we gave him our wholehearted support, and what happened!? What did we get in return!? He's ashamed of us! Ashamed of being a Black man!" He pointed out the car window. "Look! Look at how white he is now!"

Song Ya looked over. By the side of the road, there happened to be a giant Pepsi ad featuring MJ. That face—well, it was indeed very white.

"Traitor." Silencer spat out the word. He finally settled on a channel he liked, which was still playing rap music.

"You're talking nonsense, aren't you?"

A Black man can please white people just by turning himself white? Wouldn't that just make Black people annoyed and white people look down on him? Song Ya's intuition told him Tony's logic didn't hold up.

"Everyone says so, anyway."

Tony continued, "Those white people control the world. They do this to strike at our self-esteem and keep us as their slaves. Plastic surgery, you know what that is? If you can change your face, bleaching yourself isn't that hard."

"Area 51." Silencer blurted out another word.

"Exactly! Actually, the white people caught aliens a long time ago! But they chose to hide the alien technology. They never do anything for the benefit of the people; they just use it to fight a world war against the USSR!" Tony's rambling became even more unhinged. "Once they decide a winner, they'll definitely turn back to deal with us and keep Black people as their slaves!"

"Uh... alright." Song Ya was convinced and decided not to argue with him anymore.

Tony wasn't finished yet. "And that Mike guy isn't a good person either. I heard, I heard that a lot of big shots in the South Side want him dead!"

"Jordan?"

Song Ya was shocked. Michael Jordan is the star of the Bulls right now, the darling of all Chicago.

"Not Michael, it's Mike! Mike Tyson!" Tony corrected.

"I know, I know about that."

A few days ago, the heavyweight champion Tyson was upset in a massive 42-to-1 underdog loss. Song Ya heard that many gang bosses had lost money on that fight.

The place where they agreed to meet Little Lowry wasn't far. After two songs, the three of them arrived at their destination: a public basketball court surrounded by chain-link fences next to a small park. The surrounding environment here was much better than near Song Ya's house. It wasn't far from the commercial district, surrounded by high-rise apartments. Police cars passed by the intersection from time to time, and the people playing ball inside were dressed much more trendily.

Little Lowry was already waiting. He was about the same age as Tony, shorter than Song Ya, and very thin. His features were quite delicate for a Black man, and he had dreadlocks on his head. He was wearing headphones, listening to music while casually dribbling to warm up. Not far away, near the basketball hoop, two other Black men were chatting—one looked to be about twenty-five or twenty-six, and the other looked to be over thirty.

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 up to greet them, performing a complex fist-bump routine with Tony and Silencer.

When it was Song Ya's turn, the first gesture matched, but when they went to bump the lower parts, Song Ya remembered the sequence wrong. They ended up waving their fists at thin air a few times, never quite connecting.

Song Ya pulled his fist back, offering an awkward but polite smile.

Little Lowry stifled a laugh. "Forget it, don't worry about it." He then patted Song Ya on the shoulder. "Come, let me introduce everyone."

The two people who had been standing by the basketball hoop walked over. The younger one was Little Lowry's bandmate, who introduced himself as Al.

"You're that..." Tony saw Al and got excited. He cupped his hands around his mouth to mimic holding a microphone. "Boots-cats, boots-cats, doom-doom-doom..." He mimicked a bit of incomprehensible beatboxing.

"Yeah..." Al smiled, then performed a segment himself.

He was much more professional. If Song Ya closed his eyes, he might have actually suspected there was a drum kit right next to him.

Tony gave him a thumbs-up.

The older one was from the record company and wasn't as easygoing as Al. "Everyone calls me AK." He fist-bumped the three of them.

All six were introduced. Little Lowry tossed his CD player, jacket, and other items to AK, and the others took off their jackets and other burdens, placing them under the basketball hoop.

It was a standard 3-on-3 half-court game. With Little Lowry's small frame, it was unrealistic for him to match up against Tony and Silencer, those two tall and sturdy football players. Song Ya knew this was why Tony insisted on dragging him along, so he took the initiative to walk over and match up with him.

To put it bluntly, other than Little Lowry, the real purpose of the other five people on the court wasn't to play basketball; they were just there to accompany him. Since they were there to accompany him, they had to make sure the person they were accompanying was happy. So, they had a tacit understanding: whenever Little Lowry had the ball, everyone would clear out and let Song Ya play him one-on-one.

Crossover, behind-the-back dribble, pump-fake spin, between-the-legs change of direction—Little Lowry clearly had a great foundation. His ball-handling skills were a series of combos, and his spin speed and dribbling speed were both very fast. The last time Song Ya matched up with him after transmigrating, he got destroyed. This time, he had improved slightly, but that was about it.

Time passed slowly, and the shouting on the court, accompanied by the thumping of the basketball, never stopped.

It had to be said that the foundation of this body was truly excellent. Song Ya was crossed over again and again, eating dust behind Little Lowry. Aside from being mentally exhausted, his stamina was perfectly fine.

Maybe my physical education credits can still be saved?

Distracted for a split second, he fell for a fake and lost his balance, landing on his butt. Looking back, Little Lowry had already successfully made the layup and was celebrating by sticking his tongue out, imitating Jordan.

"Timeout! Timeout, let's take a break."

At this moment, AK, who was matched up against Silencer, couldn't hold on anymore. Silencer wasn't as smooth as Tony; his interior defense was solid and physical. His running-back body had worn AK down through sheer force, while Al, who was matched up against Tony, still looked like nothing had happened.

"Don't! AK! I just warmed up!" Little Lowry shouted in disappointment, holding the ball. He really enjoyed matching up against Song Ya.

"I can't do it, I can't do it." AK retreated to the sidelines with his hands raised.

Silencer stood in place, grinning foolishly.

"You guys want to go?" Three young Black men waiting on the adjacent court walked over and asked.

"Sure." Little Lowry agreed.

"Ya Li!" Tony caught Song Ya's eye upon seeing this.

"Then you guys go ahead and play."

Song Ya followed Tony off the court, leaving Little Lowry, Al, and Silencer on the floor.

The three of them hadn't been resting for even ten minutes when an accident suddenly occurred on the court. It seemed Little Lowry had been intercepted repeatedly by the other side, and in his rush to steal the ball back, he slammed headfirst into an elbow that the opponent had lowered—whether intentionally or accidentally. He collapsed on the spot.

"FXXX!" He scrambled up, pushed the other guy in a fit of rage and embarrassment.

The opponent didn't take kindly to that, snapping back, "Can't handle losing? Acting like a little girl?" He started shoving back while spouting filth.

The six people on the court quickly gathered, the "conflict" escalating, and AK hurriedly stood up to rush onto the court to provide backup.

Song Ya turned his head and saw Tony spring up like a startled rabbit, but instead of joining the fray, he sprinted toward Silencer's Toyota Eagle parked on the sidelines. About half a minute later, he charged back, dove into the pile of people, and blocked the space in front of Little Lowry.

"Hey!"

He lifted the hem of his T-shirt, revealing the black grip of a pistol tucked into his waistband, his eyes as fierce as Mike Tyson's. "How big do you want to play? NGer! Huh? How big do you want to play?"