Chapter 8

Invisible

The Marble Creek boys’ basketball team huddles around Coach Miller silently, prepared to hear what he has to say.

"It’s not looking good, I bet," Coach Miller tells them, "You’re eleven points down against a powerhouse team. You’re scared."

A few people slowly nod.

"No!" he shouts, raising his voice by several levels, "You are strong! I don’t want to hear any negativity. During this first half, they scored 40 points. If they can, then you can."

Lowering his voice again, Coach Miller begins, "So here’s how we’ll start. I want Alex back in. Just make sure you stay on that monster–" Alex immediately knows who he’s talking about– "And we’ll have Malcolm in as the point guard."

Colin’s face seems to light up a bit, and Alex stares at him, confused. Who gets happy from not playing?

"What about the other three?" Dwayne asks, hoping to be finally put in the game.

Coach Miller smiles and says, "Dwayne, Spencer, and Jackson"

The team pauses, trying to comprehend what their coach had just said.

"Aren’t they all, like, big centers?" Malcolm asks. 

"That’s the point," Coach Miller replies, "I thought about it for a while, and out of those two annoying brothers, we only have the manpower to completely shut down one of them. We’ll start with the center because he seems like the foundation for the entire team. If he falls, the rest should fall as well."

"But, Coach Miller," Alex asks, "Isn’t triple-teaming a bit overboard?"

Coach Miller shrugs, "It's not really a triple team. It'll be more like a zone. This is mainly going to work as long as our opponents don’t take too many shots, but just managing at least two players on the big guy at once should be enough."

"Good point."

"You better score one."

"Shut up."

The buzzer blares, signaling the start of the second half.

"Marble Creek . . . !" Coach Miller roars.

With a burning passion that ignites the entire complex, everyone shouts, ". . . fight!"

. . .

Jeremy Copeland, 9, 4th grade, January 3

"Jeremy! Will you be okay at home by yourself? Ethan has a game today!"

Jeremy Copeland is nothing but a shadow.

"Hey, Jeremy, I left the basketball outside, and the rain will ruin my uniform. Can you go get it?"

He knows that no matter what he does, no one will notice his effort, nor will they care if they saw.

"Jeremy! What are you doing in the rain?"

"Don’t ruin the basketball like that. Practice when the weather permits!"

He knows that whether he tries or not, his results will be the same.

"Jeremy, have you thought about joining a team?"

He knows that effort often does not lead to victory.

"Basketball? Seriously? That’s great, I can show you so many cool things! Aren’t I such a cool big brother?"

He knows that no matter how much he shines, he will still be left in the dust by the star player of Saint Helena– Ethan Copeland.

"Ethan, you need to go practice! What are you doing in Jeremy’s room?"

At least his brother is kind to him. . .

"Jeremy, sorry. Can you grab a friend to watch the movie with you? Dad wants me to watch some film on the team I’m playing against next week."

At least his brother is kind . . .

"Ethan, you don’t have time to horse around!"

At least his brother . . .

"Jeremy, I’ll be gone for the next month for a training camp. I’ll send some pictures!"

At least . . .

. . .

Jeremy Copeland, 10, 5th grade, July 29

"Jeremy, are you okay?" asks Ethan, during one of their few alone times. They are eating breakfast together, but Ethan would probably have to start his muscle training soon.

"Please don’t call me that."

"Why? That’s your name! Really, are you good?" Ethan leans in closer, concerned.

"I’m fine."

"You’ve been acting weird for a while. What’s going on, Jeremy?"

"If you call me that one more time-"

"Then what?" Ethan growls, "Stop acting like a stranger and get back to normal! I don’t know what’s been going on in your life, but you’re still my brother, even if we haven’t seen each other for the entire summer."

Copeland narrows his eyes and stands up slowly from the table.

"I am not your brother. My name is not Jeremy. I am Copeland."

Perhaps the failure known as Jeremy would have never been able to surpass his brother, but Copeland knows that he surely will.

"You are not my brother. You are an obstacle on my path to become the king of the court."

Copeland’s heart aches with every word he says, but he won’t back away from this now. I will be the king of the court. No one, not even my brother, will stop me.

"Stay away from me."

But the one thing that hurts him the most is the betrayed look in his brother’s eyes, and his mouth, with his lips barely apart, unable to utter a word in response.

Jeremy is weak, but Copeland is strong.

Jeremy goes unnoticed, but Copeland will shine.

Jeremy is loved, but Copeland is not.

. . .

Ethan Copeland, 13, 6th grade, January 3

"Hey, Mom, can you ask if Jeremy will be okay by himself?"

Ethan loves his brother more than anything in the world.

"Hey, Jeremy, I left the basketball outside, and the rain will ruin my uniform. Can you go get it?"

He hates that he’s never with his brother, thanks to basketball.

"Hey, Dad, Jeremy’s still practicing outside! I’m worried about him, can you get him back inside for me?"

Perhaps, at some point, Ethan Copeland liked basketball. However, he spends so much time on it every day that he can’t even tell the difference between his beloved sport and homework.

"Jeremy, have you thought about joining a team?"

But he knows that he needs to put in the effort. It's the only thing he knows how to do. 

"Basketball? Seriously? That’s great, I can show you so many cool things! Aren’t I such a cool big brother?"

Apparently, when Ethan was a child, he was held back many grades so that he could dominate in sports when he got older. He hated that. He had always been the biggest kid in the grade– the best one at sports.

Hanging out with Jeremy was his favorite pastime, but his little brother, over the years, had been weeded out from his life..

"Ethan, you need to go practice! What are you doing in Jeremy’s room?"

At least his brother is kind to him. . .

"Jeremy, sorry. Can you grab a friend to watch the movie with you? Dad wants me to watch some film on the team I’m playing against next week."

At least his brother is kind . . .

"Ethan, you don’t have time to horse around!"

At least his brother . . .

"Jeremy, I’ll be gone for the next month for a training camp. I’ll send some pictures!"

At least . . .

. . .

Ethan Copeland, 14, 7th grade, July 30

The two of them are eating silently. They don’t eat together that much anymore. Ethan had just returned from a summer camp for basketball, and his parents, who were volunteers, returned home a tired mess. They didn’t have the energy to command Ethan to practice, so he decided to take a few days before school to take a break and hang out with his brother. His brother, however, seems like a different person.

"Jeremy, are you okay?" asks Ethan, during one of their few alone times. They are eating breakfast together, and Ethan decides that he isn't going to start his muscle training soon.

"Please don’t call me that."

"Why? That’s your name! Really, are you good?" Ethan leans in closer, concerned.

"I’m fine."

"You’ve been acting weird for a while. What’s going on, Jeremy?"

"If you call me that one more time-"

"Then what?" Ethan growls, "Stop acting like a stranger and get back to normal! I don’t know what’s been going on in your life, but you’re still my brother, even if we haven’t seen each other for the entire summer."

Jeremy narrows his eyes and stands up slowly from the table. Suddenly, Ethan feels a chill run down his spine as the silhouette of his little brother is like that of a different person. Not just a different person– a dangerous person.

"I am not your brother. My name is not Jeremy. I am Copeland."

Ethan feels as if he is frozen in place. He thinks he might cry, or shout, or throw his plate at the wall.

"You are not my brother. You are an obstacle in the way of my greatness."

Ethan feels needles stabbing his heart with every word his brother says.

"Stay away from me."

Ethan’s stares at the person he thought was his beloved brother. He’s scared. He hasn’t been that scared in a long time. He wishes that he could reverse time, to return back to the old days, when the two of them hung out in their rooms and played video games on Jeremy’s console. He longs for those days when they took shots in the driveway together.

Instead, Ethan is left with a twisted, maniacal boy. After Jeremy– no, Copeland– leaves the room, Ethan looks at the floor, then at his hands, then around the room. The situation feels so unreal. He had no idea that he could be in so much pain.

All I did was play basketball. All I did was strive to be the king of the court. Why has it turned out like this?

How did I let this happen?

. . .

From the moment Copeland walks onto the court after halftime, he is already filled with a burning rage. Despite the fact that the third quarter has not started yet, Copeland already notices a few things. Marble Creek has three centers on the court, which is a very clear indication as to who out of the two brothers they are more worried about.

To top things off, the annoying kid is still in the game. Copeland feels as if he inherently hates that kid. His instincts never have and never will be wrong. The kid is very fast, almost as fast as Copeland himself, but not quite.

The second quarter begins, and Copeland is only guarded by one person– the annoying one. However, Ethan is guarded by . . .

"What."

It’s barely a whisper, barely an exclamation, barely a question, but Copeland knows his body is trembling with anger. How dare they! I am better! I am stronger! I will be noticed! I am shining! I am much more important than my brother! I am the king of the court!

There are three players guarding Ethan Garrett Copeland at once.

Please!

Copeland crosses left.

Anyone!

Copeland crosses right.

Am I being seen?

He fakes right.

Is anyone looking at me?

He drives left.

Can anyone see me?

He spins right, right past one of their center’s reaches.

Am I just invisible?

He’s open for a lay-up. They never should have kept one man on him in the first place.

I am invisible, aren’t I?

A hand reaches out from behind him.

It towers above him.

With a forceful, ruthless slam, that hand knocks the basketball right out of Copeland’s hands.

Copeland stumbles onto the floor and turns around in surprise.

"My name is Alex . . ." the boy begins, with a fire ignited in his eyes. Copeland backs up a step. Something is different about this boy. As if some button was pressed, some switch was flicked within him. As if some engine was turned on. The two boys stare at each other, unmoving, as the crowd roars in excitement.

The determination in Alex’s glare captivates Copeland. He gazes back with similar intensity. A ruthless rejection block? Copeland is not particularly embarrassed, as he knows that most people would be after such a situation. In fact, he feels strangely calm. He isn’t always this calm during a game.

Copeland feels a glint of excitement as Alex says ". . . and I can see you just fine."

. . .

Copeland is moving very quickly, and Alex struggles to keep up. He barely manages to follow, and Copeland is so fast that occasionally even Alex’s eyes couldn’t chase him.

Instead of following Copeland, Alex makes a beeline for the rim, and sure enough, Copeland isn’t paying enough attention.

Alex brings his hands up and blocks it. Don’t think you can take a shot that easily! I’ll stop you right n–

When Alex’s right hand slams onto the ball, time stops.

It doesn’t really stop, but it feels like it stops, Alex articulates to himself.

He can feel his heartbeat thumping slowly, so slowly. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

His breathing is almost like a gust of wind. Fwoooooo . . . Shhhhhh . . . Fwooooooo . . . . Shhhhhhh.

Will I have to do this every time this happens? Alex inwardly rolls his eyes. This time, it’s a little different. Everything is moving slowly, but he doesn’t really feel like he’s in the backseat anymore.

Rather, he feels like he’s in the passenger seat, reaching to the driver’s seat and controlling the wheel himself.

Do I have more control over this now?

He looks at Copeland and says threateningly, "My name is Alex, and I can see you just fine."

The score is 40-29.

Alex finds it excruciatingly difficult to move back to defend, as if he’s magnetically attracted to the ball.

"Bread!" he calls out, panicking. He can’t let what happened at the Pennel Creek game repeat. He has to stay in formation. He has to keep himself in check.

Thankfully, his teammates listen and form a press just in time for the inbound. Clearly, Saint Helena is surprised, as they nearly lose the ball right off the inbound. Marble Creek’s press even surprises some people in the audience, who start cheering harder.

The press causes a very good trap in the left corner on one of Saint Helena’s weaker ball handlers, and Marble Creek forces the turnover.

His teammates haven’t noticed that Alex went into his uncontrollable mode, and Alex plans to keep it that way.

Alex cuts to inside and moves out to the right corner, switching with Malcolm. The pass goes to Malcolm, who sends it to Alex.

The moment he receives the pass, he doesn’t even hesitate. Thump, thump. Thump. Thump, thu-thu-thump, thump. Thump. Swish. He’s not even sure what he did, but he does know that he scored.

40-31

The gap is closing. Alex knows it, and he’s sure that Saint Helena knows it, too.

On the returning possession, Copeland is the one bringing the ball down. Clearly, he has lost all trust in his point guard.

Even ten feet away, Alex can almost physically feel the intensity from Copeland.

When Copeland gets close, he doesn’t hesitate either. He moves left, right, then left again, but Alex is basically used to his moves. He follows Copeland easily.

Copeland seems to be dribbling so . . . so . . . slowly.

Alex waits for the perfect moment.

Now!

He reaches for the ball and grabs it easily.

Alex dribbles down the court at full speed. He has a wide open lay-up. He makes it.

40-33

Copeland brings it down again, but this time, he immediately throws it to the giant.

This is a very big mistake. He is guarded by three players. Even though one of them is basically an ant compared to him, the three players combined are enough to keep him from doing much. Dwayne gets low and pushes his opponent out of the paint on every shot. Spencer and Jackson just swarm around the center is something of a zone defense, keeping the giant and any other player from scoring.

Alex isn’t really sure what this defense is called, but it works, so he likes it.

The huge center precariously receives the ball and doesn’t even have the chance to dribble, much less score. He sends it out to an open player.

Spencer, with seemingly limitless energy, moves away from the giant to guard the next person. This opponent throws a pass to Copeland, unable to get around Spencer.

Again, he tries to maneuver around Alex, but does not succeed. Instead of risking another steal, he throws it to the giant, who has no choice but to move to the outside to get open.

Copeland moves in quickly, and the giant gives his brother a pass.

Alex almost intercepts it. He only tips it, and it lands back in the hands of the immense center.

He takes a shot.

It airballs.

Airballs, Alex knows, are probably the most embarrassing thing for a player to do. The crowd is brutal. The cheering turns into 'oooooooo's , and he can even hear laughter.

Alex inbounds it to Malcolm and he nearly forgets that he’s still in his unstoppable mode. When he gets the pass on the next possession, he instantly scores again.

40-35

My teammates might be catching on now, thinks Alex.

On Saint Helena’s possession, Copeland and Ethan take some good shots, and Copeland is able to make a three-pointer.

43-35

On the return, Alex doesn’t get the pass. Instead, Malcolm shoots.

It goes up, and up, and up.

Then it goes down.

Clang.

Time starts again, and Alex almost stumbles onto the floor in surprise.

The centers fight for the rebound, and Marble Creek eventually gets it, but Alex is not paying attention. He’s staring at his hands, confused.

After a while, Coach Miller calls a timeout. Alex returns to the bench, dazed.

"What are you doing, Alex?" Coach Miller asks.

"Coach," Alex says, shuddering, "I think I’ve figured it out."

"Figured out what?"

"You are all what what happened when we played against Pennel Creek, right?" Alex asks, and everyone nods.

"I might not have told you guys this, but I mostly wasn’t in control when that happened. I couldn’t think straight. It was like an engine turned on inside of me, and I couldn’t stall it," Alex explains, "I thought it was something negative at first, but now I’m pretty sure it’s actually a state of focus."

"What?" Dwayne interjects, "So you’re telling me that we got humiliated that day because you started your engine and got nervous?"

Alex shrugs, "More or less. Also, in case you guys didn’t notice, my . . . engine was on for the past few minutes. However, it stopped."

Everyone gives him an inquisitive look.

"I think there are certain things that shake me out of it, like the sound of a buzzer, or the sound of a basketball hitting a rim," says Alex.

Colin asks, "Wait. If you were in your, uh, engine, then how come we didn’t notice? It was pretty obvious against Pennel Creek."

Alex takes a deep breath, "I think that the engine is started only when I severely need it, and it will sort of . . . help me do what I need. So basically if I need to, say, climb a wall, and I’m not strong enough. If I’m pushed to my limit, my engine might come in and give me a boost of adrenaline or strength or whatever and I’ll be able to climb the wall. After that, it’ll probably turn off."

"I think I get it," Spencer says thoughtfully, "During the Pennel Creek game, you were basically pushed to your limit and you needed, above all else, to destroy Fernando. Your engine listened and destroyed him. But today, what you need is not to destroy them, but just to close the gap."

"Right!" Alex replies excitedly, "And–"

"Okay!" Coach Miller shouts, "That’s enough speculation for today. Get back on the court. Same players."

Though he’s slightly miffed about not being able to continue the conversation, Alex returns to focusing on the game. After all, like Coach Miller said, most of it is speculation. He has no proof that he isn’t just clinically insane, and that his body is moving on its own for no reason.

There’s a new player on Saint Helena’s line-up. He’s short, with a similar haircut to Alex himself, except with light brown hair, but a different shade from Copeland’s. Alex can’t really pinpoint his ethnicity, but the boy looks a bit like Colin– he’s very, very nervous.

Despite being nervous, however, he does move into the right spots quickly. Alex decides that he will keep an eye on this boy.

When Copeland gets the ball, he dribbles it for a bit, but it’s clearly just a formality, because he passes it to the short, light-haired boy.

The boy looks as if he’s about to take a shot. He prepares slowly, and Spencer rushes out of the paint to defend. The boy then drives past Spencer easily, but instead of continuing towards the paint, he moves closer to Alex.

Copeland moves away, but it’s close to the paint, so Alex decides to let his three teammates in the paint handle Copeland while he guards the new boy.

The boy dribbles up to Alex and crosses to the left, past the three-point line. He picks the ball up, with one foot in the air. Alex doesn’t take notice of it at first. He jumps for a block.

The boy takes a long step backward.

It’s as if a vortex has opened up between Alex and the boy.

The distance might as well be about a mile wide.

Oh no. No, no, no. Please, don’t be a shooter, Alex suddenly feels the despair creeping into his mind. If Saint Helena has a shooter, then he’s surely done for.

The boy shoots it.

He makes it.

46-35

Bzzzzzzzt.

The buzzer blares.

One quarter left, thinks Alex. All of his confidence from earlier has dissolved.

One quarter left for us to be destroyed.