Fraudulent hype

Ezikiel had spent the entire night thinking about basketball.

Not because he liked basketball.

Not because he had suddenly discovered a passion for sports.

And certainly not because he was looking forward to spending time with Chidi, the most popular guy in school.

He was thinking about basketball because, apparently, the universe had decided that his life was not embarrassing enough already.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I don't know how to play basketball.”

He said it again, hoping the words would somehow reach whoever was responsible for arranging the events of his life.

“I. Don't. Know. How. To. Play. Basketball.”

Nothing happened.

The ceiling remained a ceiling.

His fan continued rotating with the enthusiasm of an employee who had already submitted his resignation letter.

Ezikiel turned onto his side and grabbed his phone.

Daniel had sent him a message.

DANIEL: BROOOOOOO.

Ezikiel stared at the screen.

EZIKIEL: If you have something useful to say, say it.

DANIEL: CHIDI INVITED YOU TO PLAY BASKETBALL.

EZIKIEL: I was there. I heard him.

DANIEL: DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS?

EZIKIEL: That I'm about to experience a public execution with an orange ball?

DANIEL: IT MEANS YOU'RE FINALLY GETTING YOUR BIG BREAK.

Ezikiel sat up.

EZIKIEL: Daniel, I have never made a successful basketball shot in my entire life.

DANIEL: Everyone starts somewhere.

EZIKIEL: Yes. And some people should remain there.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

DANIEL: Just watch some tutorials.

Ezikiel slowly lowered his phone.

He had known Daniel for years.

He had survived Daniel's questionable advice, his terrible jokes, and his belief that watching football highlights could improve someone's chances of winning a football match.

But this?

This was betrayal.

Ezikiel opened his browser and typed basketball for beginners.

A video appeared.

A smiling man stood on a court, holding a basketball.

"Today, we're going to teach you the fundamentals of basketball!"

Ezikiel watched for precisely thirty seconds.

The man bounced the ball between his legs.

Ezikiel paused the video.

He stared at the screen.

Then he looked at his own legs.

"No."

He closed the video.

He wasn't going to learn an entire sport overnight. That was ridiculous.

Besides, he had a much bigger problem.

Chidi had invited him to play.

That was all.

There was no promise of humiliation. No public challenge. No crowd waiting to watch him fail.

Yet.

Ezikiel had learned that the best way to survive school was to avoid giving the universe ideas.

Unfortunately, the universe had Daniel.

And Daniel had a mouth.

By the time Ezikiel arrived at school the following morning, the universe had apparently received his application for suffering.

He noticed it before he even reached his classroom.

Two students standing near the entrance stopped talking when he approached.

One glanced at him.

Then at his shoes.

Then back at his face.

"That's him?"

Ezikiel kept walking.

He had become accustomed to people looking at him. Usually, the looks meant someone had noticed his untidy hair, his worn-out shoes, or the fact that his uniform always seemed to have a personal disagreement with his body.

This look was different.

It was the look people gave a contestant before a competition.

Ezikiel disliked it immediately.

He entered the classroom and found Daniel leaning against his desk.

Daniel's face lit up.

"There he is!"

Ezikiel stopped.

"No."

Daniel blinked. "I haven't said anything."

"Your face has."

"My face is expressing happiness."

"Your face is preparing a funeral."

Samuel sat beside the window, reading a book.

Without looking up, he said, "I think Daniel has been talking about you."

Ezikiel slowly turned toward him.

"Talking about what?"

Daniel suddenly became very interested in the ceiling.

Samuel turned a page.

"Basketball."

Ezikiel closed his eyes.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then he opened them.

"Daniel."

"Yes?"

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Daniel."

"Okay, technically, I spoke to someone."

Ezikiel walked toward him.

"Who?"

"People."

"What people?"

"Students."

"What students?"

"Students who attend this school."

Ezikiel stared at him.

Daniel raised both hands.

"Fine! I may have mentioned that Chidi invited you to play basketball."

"You may have mentioned it?"

"To a few people."

"How many?"

Daniel looked at Samuel.

Samuel finally looked up from his book.

"Eleven."

Ezikiel turned back to Daniel.

"Eleven?"

"Eleven people is not a lot."

"Eleven people is a small political party!"

"They were interested."

"In what? My funeral arrangements?"

Daniel frowned.

"Why do you keep assuming the worst?"

"Because I've met you."

Samuel closed his book.

"For the record, I only told one person."

Ezikiel looked at him hopefully.

"Thank you."

"I told him that you couldn't play."

Ezikiel's hope died.

"Why?"

"He asked."

"Samuel, sometimes I wonder whether your intelligence is decorative."

Samuel considered this.

"At least I have something to decorate."

Daniel burst out laughing.

Ezikiel pointed at him.

"You. Silence."

Daniel immediately covered his mouth.

It lasted four seconds.

Then he started laughing again.

Ezikiel dropped into his chair and buried his face in his hands.

He had wanted people to take him seriously.

That was the entire point of his plan.

He had written it down. He had thought about it. He had even sacrificed an entire evening to the possibility of becoming a person other people didn't laugh at.

And now, before he had accomplished a single thing, people were already talking about him.

The worst part was that he hadn't even done anything.

He was being punished for an invitation.

An invitation!

He lifted his head.

"All right. Listen carefully. Chidi invited me to play basketball. That is the complete story. There is no hidden meaning. There is no secret talent. There is no dramatic backstory involving a basketball and a tragic childhood."

Daniel nodded solemnly.

"Understood."

"Good."

"Although, now that you mention it, a tragic childhood would make an excellent documentary."

Ezikiel threw a piece of paper at him.

Samuel caught it before it reached Daniel.

"Please don't damage school property," he said. "Some of us are trying to maintain a respectable academic environment."

"You are reading a book upside down," Ezikiel replied.

Samuel looked down.

The book was upside down.

He turned it around without changing his expression.

"Now I'm not."

Ezikiel sighed.

This was his life.

Two friends.

One brain cell between them.

And he wasn't entirely convinced it belonged to either of them.

The first rumour reached him during the break.

He was standing near the classroom door when he heard someone say, "Apparently, Ezikiel is actually better than Chidi."

He turned.

A boy he vaguely recognized was speaking to two girls.

"Better at what?" one of them asked.

"Basketball."

The girl laughed.

"Ezikiel?"

"That's what I heard."

Ezikiel stared at them.

He considered walking away.

He really did.

But there was something deeply offensive about hearing his own name attached to a sentence that ridiculous.

He stepped closer.

"Who told you that?"

The boy looked at him.

For a moment, his expression suggested that he hadn't expected the subject of the conversation to possess the ability to hear.

"Brandon," he admitted.

Of course.

Ezikiel should have known.

Brandon and Marcus had made a hobby out of turning his life into a public entertainment service.

If something could embarrass him, they would find a way to make it happen.

If nothing could embarrass him, they would invent something.

Ezikiel glanced toward the other end of the corridor.

Brandon stood beside Marcus, surrounded by a small group of students.

He was smiling.

Not the ordinary smile of someone who had heard a funny joke.

It was the smile of someone who had found a new way to ruin another person's day.

Their eyes met.

Brandon raised his hand in greeting.

Ezikiel didn't respond.

He already knew this was going to be a problem.

He just didn't know how big it would become.

By lunchtime, the rumour had grown legs.

By the time he reached the cafeteria, it had acquired shoes.

Apparently, Ezikiel had been secretly playing basketball for years.

Apparently, he had refused to join the school team because he didn't want the attention.

Apparently, he had once defeated three older students in a private match.

That last one was particularly impressive because Ezikiel had never played a private match against anyone.

He had barely played basketball in physical education.

Once, he had thrown a ball toward a hoop and hit a trash can.

The teacher had congratulated him on his accuracy.

The trash can had been beside the hoop.

Ezikiel had not considered that a victory.

Now, according to the school, he was a hidden basketball genius.

He stood in the cafeteria line, listening to two students discuss his supposed abilities.

"I heard he's been practising somewhere else."

"Why would he hide it?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to embarrass Chidi."

Ezikiel slowly turned his head.

He wanted to ask whether they had both suffered recent head injuries.

Instead, he collected his lunch and walked away.

He found Daniel and Samuel at their usual table.

Daniel was grinning.

Ezikiel sat down.

"Don't."

Daniel pressed his lips together.

"Not a word."

Daniel nodded.

Ezikiel opened his lunch.

Samuel looked up from his food.

"People are saying you can beat Chidi."

"I know."

"They're also saying you turned down a place on the school team."

"I know."

"And that you have a private trainer."

Ezikiel slowly put down his fork.

"I have a private trainer?"

Samuel shrugged.

"Apparently."

Ezikiel looked at Daniel.

Daniel suddenly became fascinated by his sandwich.

"Daniel."

"Yes?"

"Are you responsible for the private trainer?"

"No."

Ezikiel narrowed his eyes.

Daniel swallowed.

"I may have said you were practising somewhere."

"Where?"

"Somewhere private."

"Daniel, that describes the entire planet."

"I didn't expect people to take it seriously!"

Ezikiel stared at him.

Daniel looked genuinely sorry.

That was the problem with Daniel. He could make a terrible decision, recognize that it was terrible, and still look so sincere that Ezikiel found it difficult to remain angry.

Samuel, on the other hand, had no such weakness.

"Technically," Samuel said, "the rumour is becoming more believable because people keep repeating it."

Ezikiel looked at him.

"Thank you. That is exactly the sort of information I needed while my reputation is being murdered."

"You're welcome."

"I'm going to start charging you for every sentence you say."

Samuel returned to his lunch.

"That would require you to become financially successful first."

Daniel choked on his drink.

Ezikiel leaned back in his chair.

He could already see how this would end.

The rumours would spread.

People would gather around the court.

Chidi would discover that the school had decided his position as the best basketball player was under threat.

Someone would suggest a match.

And Ezikiel would stand in front of an audience, holding a basketball like a man who had accidentally wandered into a job interview for a position he wasn't qualified to perform.

He looked at his friends.

"I need you both to understand something."

Daniel nodded.

Samuel continued eating.

"I am not good at basketball."

"Understood," Samuel said.

"I cannot dribble properly."

"Noted."

"I don't know the rules beyond the obvious ones."

Daniel frowned.

"There's more than one rule?"

Ezikiel stared at him.

"Never mind."

He leaned forward.

"If someone challenges me, I am not accepting."

Daniel nodded again.

"Absolutely."

Samuel lifted his drink.

"Agreed."

Ezikiel relaxed slightly.

Finally.

A moment of peace.

Then Daniel said, "But what if you win?"

Ezikiel stood up.

"I am changing schools."

By the afternoon, even students who had never spoken to Ezikiel knew about the rumours.

He noticed the difference in the way people looked at him.

Some were amused.

Some were curious.

A few seemed genuinely interested.

It was unsettling.

For most of his school life, Ezikiel had been the sort of person people noticed only when they needed someone to mock.

Now they were talking about him as though he had accomplished something.

He hadn't.

He had done absolutely nothing.

And that was what made the whole situation so irritating.

He wanted recognition, yes.

He wanted people to respect him.

He wanted to walk into a room without feeling that everyone had already decided what he was worth.

But he had imagined earning that attention.

He had imagined becoming good at something, achieving something, doing something that made people look at him differently.

He hadn't imagined waking up to discover that a group of idiots had invented a better version of him and introduced it to the entire school.

He didn't know whether to be grateful or offended.

Mostly, he was offended.

Because if the rumour had to be about anything, why couldn't it have been something useful?

Why couldn't people believe he was rich?

Or handsome?

Or the owner of a company that made millions every month?

Why basketball?

Why a sport that required him to run, jump, and coordinate his limbs in a way that suggested they had all agreed to work independently?

It was almost personal.

He was leaving his last class when he saw Chidi standing near the courtyard.

Chidi was talking to two students from the basketball team.

His uniform was neat, his shoes were clean, and he carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had never needed to rehearse a conversation before speaking.

Ezikiel didn't dislike him.

That was another annoying part of the situation.

Chidi had never done anything to him.

He was popular because people liked him. He played basketball well, knew how to talk to people, and seemed comfortable wherever he went.

Ezikiel had no reason to resent him.

If anything, he respected the fact that Chidi could do something well without making a big performance out of it.

Which made the rumours even worse.

Chidi looked up and noticed him.

"Hey, Ezikiel."

Ezikiel stopped.

"Hey."

Chidi smiled.

"You coming tomorrow?"

Ezikiel blinked.

"Coming where?"

"The court. I told you about basketball, remember?"

Ezikiel remembered.

Unfortunately, so did the entire school.

"Right," he said carefully. "About that."

Chidi glanced at the students beside him, then back at Ezikiel.

"I've been hearing some interesting things."

Ezikiel's stomach tightened.

"Have you?"

"Yeah."

Chidi didn't sound angry yet. Mostly confused.

"People are saying you're better than me."

Ezikiel stared at him.

Then he laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because the alternative was screaming.

"Whoever said that has never seen me play basketball."

Chidi studied him.

"So it's not true?"

"No."

Ezikiel answered so quickly that Chidi raised his eyebrows.

"I mean, I haven't played seriously. I'm not saying I couldn't improve, but I'm definitely not better than you."

Chidi nodded slowly.

"That's what I thought."

Ezikiel felt a small wave of relief.

Maybe this could still end peacefully.

Maybe Chidi would realize that the rumour was nonsense, everyone would move on, and Ezikiel could return to his original plan of becoming somebody through methods that didn't involve a ball.

Then one of the students beside Chidi laughed.

"Come on, man. He's just being humble."

Ezikiel turned toward him.

"Please don't."

The student held up his hands.

"What? I'm just saying."

Another boy approached them.

"Is the match tomorrow?"

Chidi looked at him.

"What match?"

"The one between you and Ezikiel."

There was a brief silence.

Ezikiel wanted to leave his body.

Not die.

Just leave it temporarily and allow the empty shell to handle the conversation.

Chidi looked back at him.

"I didn't agree to a match."

"People are saying you're playing one-on-one."

"Who?"

The boy pointed vaguely toward the school buildings.

"Everyone."

Ezikiel closed his eyes.

Everyone.

His least favourite word.

Chidi's expression changed slightly.

The confusion began giving way to something more serious.

He wasn't furious. He wasn't looking for an excuse to hurt Ezikiel.

But he had spent years working on his game, and now people were treating him as though someone had quietly appeared out of nowhere and surpassed him.

Worse, they were insisting that this someone was a student who had never demonstrated any particular basketball ability.

It was disrespectful.

And Ezikiel could understand why.

"Look," Chidi said, keeping his voice calm. "I don't have a problem with you. But if people are going to keep saying you're better than me, let's settle it."

Ezikiel felt his heart drop.

"Settle what?"

"One-on-one. Tomorrow."

For a moment, the courtyard seemed to go quiet.

Then someone nearby said, "I knew it!"

Another student pulled out his phone.

Someone else hurried toward the basketball court, presumably to inform the rest of the school that the rumour had finally become an event.

Ezikiel stared at Chidi.

He wanted to explain that this was all a misunderstanding.

He wanted to tell him that Brandon and Marcus were deliberately setting him up.

He wanted to say that he couldn't play basketball and that the entire situation was ridiculous.

But he also knew what would happen if he backed out now.

The rumour would become another joke.

Brandon and Marcus would laugh.

The school would remember him as the boy who had been too scared to face Chidi.

And, worst of all, he would once again become the person everyone expected him to be.

A coward.

He hated that thought.

He hated that it mattered to him.

But it did.

Ezikiel looked at Chidi.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

"One-on-one?"

"Five rounds."

Ezikiel nearly swallowed his tongue.

Five rounds?

Was Chidi planning to play basketball or conduct a scientific study?

He forced himself to nod.

"Fine."

The word came out before his common sense could stop it.

Chidi held out his hand.

Ezikiel stared at it for half a second before shaking it.

"See you tomorrow," Chidi said.

Then he walked away.

The students scattered, carrying the news with them.

Ezikiel remained where he was.

He had just agreed to compete against the best basketball player in school.

He had no training.

No experience.

No secret talent.

And absolutely no plan.

A shadow fell across him.

"Congratulations."

Ezikiel turned.

Brandon stood a few feet away, Marcus beside him.

Brandon's smile was wide enough to qualify as a medical condition.

"You got your match."

Ezikiel looked at him.

"You did this."

Brandon placed a hand against his chest.

"Me? What did I do?"

"You spread the rumour."

"Rumour?" Brandon looked offended. "I'm simply sharing what people deserve to know."

Marcus snorted.

Brandon continued.

"Besides, if you're really better than Chidi, tomorrow should be easy."

Ezikiel took a step toward him.

"Why?"

Brandon tilted his head.

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?"

For a moment, Brandon's smile weakened.

Then it returned.

"Because you need to learn your place."

There it was.

The truth, delivered without decoration.

Brandon didn't want to discover whether Ezikiel was talented.

He didn't care about basketball.

He wanted to see Ezikiel fail in front of everyone.

He wanted to take the confidence Ezikiel had been trying to build and crush it before it had the chance to become anything.

Ezikiel understood that.

And understanding it didn't make him any less trapped.

Brandon patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry. We'll all be watching."

He and Marcus walked away laughing.

Ezikiel stood alone in the courtyard until the final bell rang.

Then he went home.

He didn't speak much during the journey.

Daniel tried to cheer him up.

Samuel offered several practical suggestions, including the possibility of learning the basic rules of basketball before tomorrow.

Ezikiel considered throwing Samuel's book into a lake.

Unfortunately, there were no lakes nearby.

When he got home, he went straight to his room, dropped his bag beside his desk, and sat down.

For a while, he did nothing.

Then he opened his laptop.

The note was still there.

OPERATION: BECOME SOMEBODY

Underneath it, he had written:

STEP ONE: STOP ACTING LIKE A VICTIM.

STEP TWO: FIGURE OUT HOW.

Ezikiel stared at the words.

He had wanted to change things.

He had wanted to stop being the person people laughed at.

He had wanted to become someone who could walk into school without feeling invisible.

But he hadn't expected his first real opportunity to arrive disguised as a public disaster.

He opened a new line and typed:

CURRENT PROBLEM: CHIDI.

He stared at it.

Then deleted it.

Chidi wasn't the problem.

Brandon wasn't even the entire problem.

The problem was that Ezikiel had spent so long thinking about what he lacked that he had never seriously considered what he could do with what he already had.

He was clever.

He could think quickly.

He could read people better than they assumed.

He could make jokes even when he was miserable.

Those things hadn't made him popular, but they were still his.

Basketball, on the other hand, was a disaster waiting to happen.

He searched for a beginner's tutorial again.

A video appeared.

A man stood on a court, demonstrating how to dribble.

Ezikiel watched him bounce the ball.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then the video switched to a demonstration of basic shooting technique.

Ezikiel watched the instructor bend his knees and release the ball.

The ball sailed neatly through the hoop.

Ezikiel paused the video.

He looked at the screen.

Then he looked at his hands.

"No."

He closed the laptop.

He wasn't going to become a basketball player overnight.

He wasn't going to become Chidi.

And he wasn't going to pretend he had some hidden talent just because a rumour had decided to give him one.

Tomorrow, he would go to the court.

He would play five rounds.

He would probably lose.

And then everyone would have to find something else to talk about.

It wasn't a good plan.

But it was the only one he had.

Ezikiel lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling again.

"Please," he whispered, addressing whatever force had apparently taken an interest in his suffering. "Just let me survive tomorrow."

The ceiling offered no response.

His fan continued rotating.

And somewhere across town, Brandon and Marcus were already telling people that the match was going to be legendary.

Ezikiel had no idea how many people would show up.

He had no idea how far the rumour would spread.

And he had absolutely no idea that tomorrow's five rounds of basketball would become the strangest experience of his life.

For now, he only knew one thing.

He couldn't play basketball.

Tomorrow, the entire school was going to find out.

Or so he thought.