The Only Way Out

After the morning's AP Calculus class ended, Li Wei and Michael headed to different classrooms.

AP classes at America High School were electives. Michael was taking AP History, while Li Wei had chosen AP Macroeconomics.

The economics teacher was Mrs. Mosley, a stern-looking older Black woman. She seemed more or less displeased that Li Wei had joined the class late.

"Listen," she said, looking at Li Wei. "You may not have studied AP economics at your high school back in your country. I'm very doubtful you can keep up and earn an A in a year—no, in less than half a year."

"Then you can pick anything from the textbook," Li Wei said. "I think I might be able to keep up."

"Fine." Mrs. Mosley closed the Mankiw's Macroeconomics in her hands and stared at Li Wei. "Mr. Li, would you tell me about the Great Depression in America...?"

Five minutes later.

"..."

Mrs. Mosley was silent for a moment, then, still unconvinced, picked up the thick Mankiw's Macroeconomics and flipped through it again and again.

Li Wei folded his arms and watched her at his leisure.

"Memorizing a textbook and understanding the logic behind how an economy works are two different things, Mr. Li." Mrs. Mosley returned to the lectern and pointed to an empty seat at the back of the classroom. "Find a place to sit. I hope you can turn in a flawless assignment when we do the case analysis, too."

Li Wei shrugged, took his textbook, and returned to his seat.

At lunchtime, Li Wei had planned to eat with Michael or Travis, but Franklin K. Lane High School was a large New York City school with as many as 3,500 students. It was easy to imagine how crowded the cafeteria got during lunch.

The different ethnic groups sat together in their own circles, with only a few areas of the cafeteria where people mixed.

Black students, Latino students, Asian students, and the school teams all had their own groups.

By the time Li Wei finished the lunch he'd brought from home, he still hadn't spotted either of them.

A little after two in the afternoon, the air in the gym's war room felt like a steam room soaked in sweat.

A huge crowd of strong, hormonal high school athletes packed into the small lecture hall, yelling and shoving each other.

The moment Li Wei walked in, the whole room fell silent.

"Well, well," Coach Miller said, entering with his assistant coach. He looked around in amazement. "I can't believe you lot can actually be quiet. Looks like I really did pick the right backup quarterback."

He walked up to the lectern and picked up a megaphone.

"Get your fat asses out of those chairs! All of you, get your damn selves up front!" he shouted. "You idiots!"

"This is your last year of high school! It's also the only chance you'll ever get to climb out of this gutter!" he said. "Either you play like your lives depend on it, show those college scouts you're animals, and earn a D1 scholarship—or you get the hell out of my locker room right now, sell drugs on the corner, and die like a stray dog in some gang shootout! Pick one, geniuses!"

Travis, standing beside Li Wei, suddenly let out a roar that startled him.

"When did you get here?" Li Wei turned to look at Travis. "I didn't see you."

"I just went to the gym, man." Travis was drenched in sweat. "The school gym has plenty of equipment. No need to go to an outside gym."

"Next week, we start the PSAL season," Coach Miller continued to bellow from the lectern. "We only need to win four out of six games to make the playoffs. What's our goal?"

"Championship! Championship! Championship!"

"That's right!" Coach Miller roared. "The championship! Only by making the playoffs—or even the championship game—will you get noticed by scouts and invited to training camps! Only then can you make the damn NCAA! If you can't win, you'll rot behind the iron bars in Brooklyn!"

"Also, I know some of you guys don't have much to work with, and your families can't afford expensive steaks and personal trainers," he said. "If anyone needs my help, come see me in my office afterward. I'll give you some 'personalized advice.'"

He said he was offering help to anyone who needed it, but Coach Miller's gaze fell on Li Wei and Travis.

"Why's he looking at me?" Li Wei wondered, baffled. "What kind of help do I need from him?"

"I know," Travis said, looking as if he understood. "Come with me."

After the pep talk, Travis led Li Wei to Coach Miller's office.

"I know Asians are shy," he said, patting Li Wei on the shoulder. "I'll go ask for you."

With that, he knocked and went into Coach Miller's office. A little while later, he came out furtively carrying two bags.

"What's that?" Li Wei asked, hearing the bags clink and rattle. "Workout supplements from Coach Miller?"

"No," Travis said. "It's testosterone and anabolic steroids, growth hormone, plus some stimulants and diuretics."

Li Wei was startled. He lowered his voice. "Why would the coach give you this stuff?"

"You... you're natural?" Travis scratched his scalp. "Damn, you're so strong that Coach and I thought you were juicing too."

"You've been taking this stuff since high school just to play football?"

Li Wei looked through the open bag. It contained Testosterone Enanthate, Methyldrostanolone, Methyltestosterone, insulin, Ostarine, and even Ephedrine for its stimulant effect.

"High school?" Travis shook his head. "I started taking pills in middle school, then started injecting once I got to high school."

Li Wei finally understood why Travis seemed to have the cognition of an idiot, yet showed some athletic talent (Chapter 36).

Seeing Li Wei's horrified expression, Travis gave a self-deprecating smile and deftly stuffed the colorful drugs back into the black drawstring bag.

"Don't look at me like that, man. This is common all over America." Travis walked with Li Wei to a blind spot in the surveillance coverage and pulled a joint from his pocket, but thought better of lighting it. "Why do you think I stood out in the amateur youth league and went straight into the starting lineup for the PSAL?"

"There's so much of it. Can you even tell what's what?" Li Wei couldn't help asking. "Do you know what any of this stuff is?"

"Honestly, I don't. I get a headache just looking at the names." Travis shook his head. "But the coach told me how to take it, so I just do what he says."

Li Wei suddenly remembered hearing two people talking about steroids while changing in the locker room during his first trip to the gym. One of them was a muscular Black guy who, seen in profile, looked about his age.

Now that he thought about it, the guy's face seemed to merge with Manu's (Chapter 5).

"But this will wreck your endocrine system. Your balls will shrink, you'll lose control of your emotions, and even your heart could enlarge because of it..."

"My heart? Maybe I'll die in a gang shootout tomorrow," Travis said with a laugh. "You know what, Li Wei? My grandfather died at forty-five, and my father could barely walk from gout before he turned thirty-five. Do you think I'm going to worry about my heart getting bigger?"

"I have no money, and I'm not smart enough to do well in school. The only thing I've got any talent for is this body of mine." He held out an arm, its veins swollen and bulging from the drugs and training. "But I'm not talented enough to waltz into the NCAA and make a name for myself."

"Do you know why there's no drug testing in high school leagues?" he said. "If I can get a full scholarship, then even if I make it into the NCAA and don't do well, even if I never make it into a professional league, at least I can get out of this place. At least I can afford college, then become a personal trainer—or even come back as a sports coach. That's a respectable life, man."

"If I stay here, kids like me either become gang enforcers—if we're really lucky, we live past thirty—or flip burgers at a fast-food joint for the rest of our lives." He shrugged. "My old man has gouty tophi on his knees. He takes painkillers every day while flipping burgers at a burger joint, earning fifteen dollars an hour. I know that if I don't make it, that's the rest of my life."

Kids from the streets had their own street smarts. He might not have been outstanding academically, but he wasn't a complete idiot.

"But this stuff can't be cheap, right?" Li Wei couldn't help asking. "Can you afford it?"

"This stuff..." Travis shook the bag. "I don't know, but none of my middle school or high school coaches ever charged me for it."

Li Wei took the bag from him and carefully checked the packaging. Finally, he couldn't help murmuring:

"Damn, these are experimental drugs that haven't been released yet. They haven't been approved by the FDA!"

"That explains it," Travis said cheerfully. "The coach said he got them from a friend at a pharmaceutical company. He didn't charge me; he just wanted to help me out. These coaches are really nice."

"Honestly, I was worried the coach had spent a lot of money getting these," he said. "I couldn't afford to pay him back."

Li Wei had an even crueler explanation, but he couldn't bring himself to say it to a classmate who was still underage and already had more than six years of experience using illegal drugs.

"If we can win the PSAL championship," Travis said wistfully, "we might not get into a D1 school, but we could still get a scholarship at a D2 or D3 school."

As he spoke, he clutched the bag as if it were a lifeline.

With a complicated feeling he couldn't quite name, Li Wei said goodbye to Travis and took the campus shuttle home.

Don Quixote was lying on the couch watching TV. When he saw Li Wei come in alone, he clicked his tongue in surprise.

"Well, well, would you look at that," he said. "I thought you'd bring a girl home on your first night. Is Franklin High School some kind of Catholic school?"

"Not at all," Li Wei replied casually. "In fact, three girls got into a fight over me. I just haven't decided which one to meet."

"Bullshit. Keep dreaming," Don Quixote said dismissively. "Three girls fought over you? Why not say the cheerleading captain invited you to her house that very day to teach her how to stretch?"

"How did you know?" Li Wei whipped around. "Who told you?"

"Funny joke, but quit dreaming and come look at this news report." Don Quixote pointed at the TV. "Do you remember the construction site where I used to work?"

"I remember." Li Wei walked over. "What happened?"

The news was on WNYW, a station that mostly covered local New York news.

It showed a report about an attack at a Brooklyn construction site that had left several people injured. Two anchors were discussing the incident:

"...You're absolutely right, Brian. The attack has been blamed on the Russian mob active in Brighton Beach. The construction company also believes the same criminal organization was behind the earlier hack of its financial system..."