Fraud of a Life

Ezikiel woke up with one clear objective.

He was not going to school.

He lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling while his alarm rang for the third time. Outside his room, he could hear his mother moving around the kitchen. The smell of breakfast drifted through the house, making his stomach growl.

He ignored it.

School was dangerous.

Not physically dangerous, perhaps. Nobody had threatened to stab him or throw him off a building. But somewhere between yesterday afternoon and this morning, people had apparently decided he was a basketball genius.

A basketball genius.

Ezikiel had once watched a basketball game for twenty minutes without understanding why the referee kept blowing his whistle. He had also mistaken a free throw for a punishment.

And now people believed he could defeat Chidi.

Chidi.

The guy who practically lived on the basketball court.

Ezikiel sat up and rubbed his face.

"Maybe if I don't go, the problem will solve itself."

His phone vibrated.

Daniel had sent him a message.

DANIEL: BROOOOOOO!

EZIKIEL: Somebody died?

DANIEL: Worse.

EZIKIEL: Your food finished?

DANIEL: THEY'RE SAYING YOU CAN BEAT CHIDI AT BASKETBALL.

Ezikiel stared at the screen.

EZIKIEL: Who is they?

DANIEL: Everybody.

EZIKIEL: Everybody should find work.

Another message arrived.

DANIEL: Samuel says you have a chance.

Ezikiel sat up straighter.

EZIKIEL: Samuel said WHAT?

DANIEL: He said if Chidi gets food poisoning before the match, you might win.

Ezikiel dropped his phone onto the bed.

"Wonderful. My friends are supporting me with medical emergencies."

His mother called from downstairs.

"Ezikiel! Come and eat!"

"I'm sick!"

The words escaped his mouth before he could think of a better excuse.

There was silence.

Then his mother called again.

"What sickness?"

Ezikiel looked around his room, searching for inspiration.

"Headache!"

"Come and eat."

"Stomach pain!"

"Come and eat."

"My entire body is weak!"

"Then you can eat while sitting down."

Ezikiel closed his eyes.

This woman was impossible to defeat.

He pulled his blanket over his head.

"I think it's something serious."

His bedroom door opened.

His mother stood in the doorway with her arms folded.

"What is serious?"

He peeked out from beneath the blanket.

"Possibly a rare disease."

"Which disease?"

"The one they haven't discovered yet."

She stared at him.

He stared back.

"Get up," she said.

"Can I at least die after breakfast?"

"You can die after you finish your homework. Now get dressed."

She walked away.

Ezikiel remained still for three seconds.

Then he threw his blanket aside.

"That woman has no compassion."

Twenty minutes later, he was dressed, eating breakfast, and preparing to face the worst day of his life.

His mother watched him finish his food.

"You don't look sick."

"I have a very private illness."

"Good. Keep it private at school."

He looked at her.

She smiled.

Ezikiel picked up his bag.

"One day, I will become rich enough to employ someone to help me escape your authority."

"Start by becoming rich enough to pay your school fees."

He left the house.

He had lost his first battle of the day.

Unfortunately, it was only the beginning.

By the time Ezikiel reached school, he had already received six messages about the basketball match.

Two were from people he barely knew.

One contained a basketball emoji.

The last one simply said, Don't disappoint us.

He stared at the message.

"Who are these people? Why do they care about my disappointment?"

He slipped his phone into his pocket and entered the school compound.

Immediately, he noticed the stares.

A group of students stood near the entrance, talking. One of them pointed at him. Another whispered something to her friend.

Ezikiel kept walking.

He could hear pieces of their conversation.

"That's him."

"The one who's challenging Chidi?"

"No, Chidi challenged him."

"Same thing."

"It is not the same thing," Ezikiel muttered.

He continued towards his classroom.

A boy passing him slapped his shoulder.

"Good luck, man!"

Ezikiel turned.

"Thank you. If I survive, remember me."

The boy laughed and walked away.

Ezikiel didn't laugh.

He was beginning to understand how a person could become famous without doing anything impressive.

Apparently, all you needed was a rumour and a school full of people with too much free time.

Daniel was waiting near the classroom door.

The moment he saw Ezikiel, he rushed over.

"My brother!"

"Don't call me that. You sound like you're about to ask me for money."

Daniel grabbed his shoulders.

"Do you understand what is happening?"

"Yes. My life is being destroyed."

"No! Your life is changing!"

"Into what? A cautionary tale?"

Samuel stood behind Daniel, adjusting his glasses.

"I've made a list of possible outcomes."

Ezikiel slowly turned towards him.

"Why have you made a list?"

"Because one of us should be prepared."

Samuel held up his notebook.

"Possibility one: Chidi defeats you in under a minute."

"Excellent."

"Possibility two: Chidi defeats you in under thirty seconds."

"Even better."

"Possibility three: you accidentally score a point, everyone celebrates, and Chidi becomes offended."

Ezikiel considered that.

"That sounds unnecessarily realistic."

"Possibility four," Samuel continued, "you win."

Ezikiel looked at him.

Samuel closed the notebook.

"I didn't spend much time on that one."

Daniel burst out laughing.

Ezikiel took a deep breath.

"Listen to me carefully. I cannot play basketball."

"We know," Samuel replied.

"I don't know the rules."

"We know."

"I once threw a ball at a wall and it came back at me."

Daniel stopped laughing.

"Why?"

"Because the wall was there, Daniel!"

Samuel nodded thoughtfully.

"That explains the incident."

"What incident?"

"Nothing."

Ezikiel narrowed his eyes.

Before he could interrogate them, the school bell rang.

He entered the classroom and sat down.

For the next few hours, he tried to behave like a normal student.

It was difficult.

Every time he looked up, somebody seemed to be looking at him.

During mathematics, the teacher asked him to solve a problem on the board.

Ezikiel stood up slowly.

As he walked to the front, he heard someone whisper, "That's the basketball guy."

He stopped.

The mathematics teacher turned around.

"What is it?"

"Sir, I have a question."

"Ask."

"If I solve this problem correctly, will you cancel the basketball match?"

The class erupted.

The teacher stared at him.

"Are you suggesting mathematics is more difficult than basketball?"

"No, sir. I'm suggesting both are difficult, and I would appreciate being allowed to fail in only one area today."

Even the teacher struggled to maintain a straight face.

"Write the solution."

Ezikiel solved the problem correctly.

He returned to his seat.

Daniel leaned towards him.

"At least you're good at something."

"Yes. Disappointing people in multiple fields."

Samuel tapped his pen against his notebook.

"You should focus on the positive."

"What positive?"

"You haven't played yet."

Ezikiel looked at him.

"That is not positive. That is a threat with a time delay."

By lunchtime, the rumour had grown worse.

Some students were now claiming Ezikiel had been secretly training for months.

Others said he had played for a junior team somewhere.

One girl insisted her cousin had seen him make ten shots in a row.

Ezikiel had never met the girl.

He had never met her cousin.

He had certainly never made ten shots in a row.

He sat with Daniel and Samuel in the cafeteria, eating his lunch while trying to ignore the attention.

Daniel leaned forward.

"Do you think the people spreading the rumour know how good you are?"

Ezikiel slowly lowered his sandwich.

"Daniel, if I knew how good I was, would I be sitting here trying to calculate the probability of surviving a basketball match?"

Daniel nodded.

"Fair point."

Samuel took a sip of water.

"Chidi has been asking about you."

Ezikiel stopped chewing.

"Why?"

"Because everyone keeps telling him you're better than him."

"Tell him they're confusing me with someone else."

"I tried."

"And?"

"He said he wants to meet you."

Ezikiel put his sandwich down.

"Samuel, I need you to understand something. Friendship is supposed to involve helping your friends. You have not helped me once today."

"I helped you solve the mathematics problem."

"That was academic assistance. I need emergency assistance."

"What kind?"

"Fake my death."

Daniel nearly choked on his drink.

Before Samuel could reply, a shadow fell across their table.

Ezikiel looked up.

Chidi stood beside him.

He wore a clean school uniform, his sleeves neatly folded, and his usual calm expression. He held a bottle of water in one hand.

Unlike the people who had been gossiping all morning, he wasn't smiling.

"Ezikiel?"

Ezikiel swallowed.

"Depends. Are you from the tax office?"

Chidi blinked.

Daniel turned away, covering his mouth.

Samuel looked down at his food.

Chidi's expression softened slightly.

"No. I wanted to talk to you about the match."

Ezikiel looked around the cafeteria.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Like what?"

"Taxes. Weather. The economy. Anything that doesn't involve a ball."

Chidi pulled out the empty chair opposite him.

"People keep telling me you're better than I am."

"People lie."

"Maybe. But they're saying it everywhere. Some of them are saying I'm afraid to play you."

Chidi didn't sound angry, exactly. He sounded irritated by the situation.

Ezikiel understood that much.

If people spent the whole day telling everyone that a particular student was better than Chidi, it would probably get annoying.

Especially when the particular student couldn't dribble without risking a personal injury.

"I'm not trying to disrespect you," Ezikiel said.

"I know. That's why I'm asking you directly. One-on-one during sports period. Five rounds. We settle it properly, and everyone can stop talking."

Ezikiel stared at him.

"Five rounds?"

"Yes."

"Can we settle it by shaking hands?"

Chidi laughed.

"No."

"By playing rock-paper-scissors?"

"No."

"By asking a teacher to announce that we're both equally talented?"

"Ezikiel."

"Fine."

Chidi stood.

"Good. I'll see you on the court."

He walked away.

Ezikiel watched him leave.

Then he slowly turned towards his friends.

"Why did I say fine?"

Samuel considered the question.

"Perhaps your mouth acted independently of your brain."

Daniel nodded.

"That happens to me too."

Ezikiel picked up his sandwich.

"I hope both of you understand that if I embarrass myself, I'm blaming you."

Daniel grinned.

"If you win, are we sharing the fame?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if I lose, I don't know you."

The afternoon lessons passed with agonizing slowness.

Ezikiel tried to concentrate on the teacher's explanations, but every few minutes he glanced at the clock.

He considered running away.

He considered hiding in the library.

He even considered pretending to have an emergency at home.

Unfortunately, his mother had already established that she did not believe in his illnesses.

At the end of the last lesson before sports period, the teacher clapped his hands.

"Everyone, change into your sports clothes. We have football, basketball, volleyball, and athletics today. Do not spend the entire period standing around doing nothing."

Several students cheered.

Ezikiel nearly cried.

He had hoped that perhaps the school would cancel sports for an important announcement.

Or a power outage.

Or a small meteor strike.

Instead, the teacher was actively encouraging physical activity.

This was unacceptable.

Ezikiel changed into his sports clothes and followed the others outside.

The basketball court was already crowded.

Students gathered around the edges, discussing the match. A few sat on the low wall near the court. Others leaned against the fence.

One student had somehow acquired a packet of biscuits and was eating as though he had purchased a front-row ticket to a professional tournament.

Ezikiel approached Daniel and Samuel.

"I want both of you to remember that I am a good person."

Daniel frowned.

"Where is this coming from?"

"If anything happens to me, tell my mother I loved her."

Samuel adjusted his glasses.

"You could simply walk onto the court and play."

Ezikiel looked at him.

"That's the kind of advice that gets people killed."

The sports teacher, Mr. Harris, stood near the centre of the court with a whistle around his neck.

He was a tall man with a permanent expression of disappointment.

He had the look of someone who had spent years teaching students to run and had concluded that humanity was a failed experiment.

"All right!" he called. "If you're not playing, stand behind the line. Nobody enters the court during the match. And if I see anyone pushing, fighting, or trying to become famous through foolishness, you're running laps."

Several students laughed.

Mr. Harris pointed towards them.

"Don't laugh. I'm serious."

He turned towards Chidi.

"You're ready?"

Chidi nodded.

Then the teacher looked at Ezikiel.

"You ready?"

Ezikiel looked at the basketball.

He looked at Chidi.

He looked at the teacher.

"No, sir."

The spectators burst into laughter.

Mr. Harris rubbed his forehead.

"At least you're honest."

"Thank you, sir. It's my only remaining quality."

"Get on the court."

Ezikiel walked forward like a man approaching his own funeral.

Chidi stood opposite him.

The teacher held the ball.

"Five rounds. Each round goes to the first player to score. One point wins the round. Whoever wins the most rounds wins the match. Play fairly, respect each other, and don't argue with my decisions."

A student near the fence raised his hand.

"Sir, what if Ezikiel wins all five?"

Mr. Harris looked at him.

"Then you can spend the rest of the afternoon explaining to me why you wasted your time spreading rumours instead of doing your homework."

The student lowered his hand.

Mr. Harris bounced the ball once.

"Round one. Chidi, take the ball first."

Ezikiel's heart sank.

Of course Chidi would take the ball first.

That was what happened when you entered a competition against someone who actually knew how to play.

Chidi caught the ball and moved into position.

Ezikiel tried to copy what he had seen basketball players do on television. He bent his knees slightly and raised his hands.

He immediately felt ridiculous.

Daniel called from the sidelines.

"That's it, Ezi! Show him your defence!"

Samuel turned to him.

"What defence?"

"The one he's doing."

"He's standing there with his hands up."

"Exactly. Very defensive."

The teacher blew his whistle.

Chidi moved.

He dribbled once to the right, then crossed the ball to his left hand.

Ezikiel reacted too slowly.

Chidi slipped past him and headed towards the basket.

Ezikiel turned around, prepared to witness his defeat.

Then something strange happened.

His body moved before he could think.

He stepped into Chidi's path, reached out, and knocked the ball away cleanly.

The ball bounced towards the edge of the court.

Both boys stared at it.

So did everyone else.

Ezikiel stared at his own hand.

Did I just do that?

Chidi recovered first and rushed after the ball.

Ezikiel moved too.

He caught it.

For a moment, he stood there with the ball in his hands, wondering what he was supposed to do next.

Then his feet carried him forward.

He dribbled.

Not badly.

Not awkwardly.

He dribbled as if he had been doing it for years.

He passed Chidi with a quick movement, stepped towards the basket, and threw the ball.

It sailed through the hoop.

The court went quiet.

The ball bounced twice before rolling away.

Mr. Harris stared at the basket.

Then he looked at Ezikiel.

"Point. Round one goes to Ezikiel."

The students erupted.

"WHAT?"

"Did you see that?"

"Where has this guy been hiding?"

Daniel jumped up so quickly that his chair fell over.

"THAT'S MY BROTHER!"

Samuel caught his glasses before they slid off his face.

"That was unexpectedly competent."

Ezikiel stood beneath the basket, breathing hard.

He looked at his hands again.

Then at the hoop.

Then at Chidi.

Chidi approached him with raised eyebrows.

"Nice move."

Ezikiel blinked.

"Thanks."

"Where did you learn that?"

Ezikiel opened his mouth.

He had no answer.

"I watched a video once."

Chidi laughed.

"Must have been a good video."

He collected the ball and walked back to the starting position.

Ezikiel returned to his side of the court, his mind racing.

He had scored.

Against Chidi.

Without even knowing how.

Lucky shot, he told himself.

That had to be it.

A lucky shot. A lucky steal. Maybe Chidi had slipped. Maybe the basketball gods had temporarily confused him with somebody who knew what he was doing.

Whatever had happened, he wasn't going to question it.

He had won one round.

One.

There were still four more opportunities for public humiliation.

Mr. Harris raised his whistle.

"Round two!"

Chidi took the ball again.

This time, he was more careful.

He dribbled slowly, watching Ezikiel's movements. Ezikiel tried to remember what he had done before.

He had no idea.

He bent his knees again.

Chidi moved left.

Ezikiel followed.

Chidi switched direction.

Ezikiel followed again.

The spectators started shouting advice.

"Watch his left!"

"Don't let him pass!"

"Chidi, stop playing with him!"

A boy near the fence cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Ezikiel, remember your ancestors!"

Ezikiel wanted to ask which ancestors were supposed to help him, but Chidi suddenly drove towards the basket.

Ezikiel reacted.

He blocked the path, reached for the ball, and somehow stole it again.

The crowd screamed.

Ezikiel ran forward.

His feet moved smoothly across the court. He dribbled past Chidi, turned near the basket, and scored with a clean layup.

The ball dropped through the hoop.

Mr. Harris blew his whistle.

"Point! Round two goes to Ezikiel!"

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then the court exploded.

Daniel grabbed Samuel by the shoulders and shook him.

"WE'RE RICH!"

Samuel struggled to free himself.

"How does that follow from winning two rounds?"

"We'll sell his autograph!"

"He hasn't even won the match."

"Then we'll sell his future autograph!"

Students started laughing.

Someone shouted that Ezikiel should join the school team.

Another student demanded a rematch against a different player.

Ezikiel stood in the middle of the court, stunned.

Two rounds.

Two wins.

He looked at Chidi, who was now studying him with genuine curiosity.

"You're better than I thought," Chidi admitted.

Ezikiel swallowed.

"Honestly, I'm better than I thought too."

That was when the dangerous thought entered his mind.

Maybe I'm actually good at this.

He remembered the way he had moved. The way he had stolen the ball. The way his body seemed to understand what to do without him giving it instructions.

Perhaps he had underestimated himself.

Perhaps he had some hidden talent.

Perhaps the reason he had never been good at anything was that he had never tried hard enough.

His shoulders straightened.

He smiled.

I'm good at basketball.

The moment he believed it, something changed.

The strange ease disappeared.

His hands felt unfamiliar around the ball. His feet seemed heavier. The court suddenly looked much bigger.

He frowned.

What was that?

Mr. Harris blew his whistle.

"Round three! Chidi, let's see what you've got."

Chidi took possession.

He dribbled towards Ezikiel.

Ezikiel tried to move into position, but his legs tangled awkwardly. Chidi crossed to the other side, leaving him behind.

Ezikiel spun around.

Too late.

Chidi moved towards the basket and scored.

The ball passed through the hoop without touching the rim.

Mr. Harris raised his hand.

"Point. Round three goes to Chidi."

The spectators applauded.

Chidi smiled modestly and collected the ball.

Ezikiel stared at the basket.

That had been strange.

He had seen Chidi's move coming. He had known he needed to shift his weight. Yet his body had refused to cooperate.

He flexed his fingers.

Maybe he was tired.

Yes. That was it.

He had used too much energy during the first two rounds.

That made sense.

It had nothing to do with the thought he'd just had.

Absolutely nothing.

Daniel called from the sidelines.

"You're still winning, Ezi! Don't worry!"

Samuel nodded.

"Technically, yes. Two rounds to one."

Ezikiel turned towards them.

"Thank you for the mathematical update. I was beginning to think numbers had changed."

Chidi handed the ball to the teacher.

"Ready for round four?"

Ezikiel looked at him.

He wanted to say no.

He wanted to explain that his body had apparently resigned from its job.

Instead, he nodded.

Mr. Harris blew the whistle.

"Round four!"

This time, Chidi played with more confidence.

He dribbled towards the left side, changed direction, and moved past Ezikiel.

Ezikiel tried to follow him.

His feet felt clumsy.

He reached for the ball and missed it completely.

Chidi stopped near the basket and threw.

The ball bounced against the backboard, touched the rim, and dropped through.

"Point!" Mr. Harris announced. "Round four goes to Chidi!"

The crowd cheered.

The score was now two rounds each.

One final round would decide the winner.

Ezikiel bent forward, resting his hands on his knees.

He was sweating.

He was confused.

And he was beginning to suspect that the universe had a personal problem with him.

Two minutes ago, he had felt like a professional athlete.

Now he could barely move without looking like a malfunctioning robot.

He straightened and looked at the sky.

"Seriously?"

Daniel shouted, "What's wrong?"

Ezikiel raised both hands.

"Nothing! I'm just asking life a question!"

Samuel adjusted his glasses.

"What question?"

"Why does life keep pranking me?"

A few spectators laughed.

Ezikiel shook his head.

"First, I can't play basketball. Then I become a basketball legend for two minutes. Now I'm back to being the kind of person who loses a fight with a door."

Daniel laughed so hard he had to hold the fence.

Samuel considered the situation.

"Perhaps you should stop thinking about it."

"Thank you, Samuel. Your wisdom has saved countless lives."

Ezikiel took a deep breath.

He looked at the court.

He looked at the ball.

Then he looked at Chidi.

The answer was obvious.

He had been lucky.

Twice.

It had to be luck. Maybe Chidi had underestimated him. Maybe the first two rounds had been accidents. Maybe he had simply managed to do the right things without knowing how.

He wasn't a basketball player.

He wasn't secretly talented.

He was Ezikiel.

A boy who had once watched a match and wondered why everyone kept running in circles.

The realization was oddly comforting.

He didn't need to prove that he was good at basketball.

He only needed to survive the final round.

I'm terrible at this game, he admitted to himself. Those two wins were pure luck.

His shoulders relaxed.

His hands stopped trembling.

For the first time that afternoon, he felt like himself again.

Mr. Harris bounced the ball.

"Final round. Winner takes the match."

The spectators moved closer.

One teacher who had been supervising football crossed the field to watch.

"What's happening here?" he asked.

A student answered, "Ezikiel and Chidi are tied two rounds each."

The teacher raised his eyebrows.

"Ezikiel?"

"Yes, sir."

He looked at the court.

Then at Ezikiel.

"Interesting."

Ezikiel heard him.

"I can hear you, sir."

"Good. Then you can also hear me say that if you start arguing with the referee, you're running laps."

"I'm not even arguing yet!"

"Preventive discipline."

The spectators laughed.

Mr. Harris handed the ball to Chidi.

"Play!"

Chidi moved forward.

Ezikiel watched him closely.

He didn't try to imitate a professional player. He didn't tell himself that he had hidden talent. He simply watched the ball and reacted.

Chidi dribbled to the right.

Ezikiel moved with him.

Chidi switched hands.

Ezikiel followed.

Chidi tried to move past him.

Ezikiel intercepted the ball.

The crowd shouted.

"HE'S DONE IT AGAIN!"

Ezikiel caught the ball and started running.

His body moved with that same effortless precision from the first two rounds.

His feet were quick. His hands were steady. He dribbled around Chidi and approached the basket.

For one brief moment, he wondered whether he should be worried.

Then he remembered that worrying had never helped him.

He jumped.

The ball left his hand.

It sailed towards the hoop.

For a second, it looked as though it might miss.

Then it dropped straight through.

The court erupted.

Daniel screamed so loudly that a teacher ordered him to calm down.

Samuel stood completely still, staring at the basket.

Mr. Harris blew his whistle.

"Point! Round five goes to Ezikiel! Final result: Ezikiel wins three rounds to two!"

The students went wild.

Some cheered. Others laughed in disbelief. One boy began arguing that the final shot should count double because it was too impressive to be worth only one point.

Mr. Harris shut that down immediately.

"This is basketball, not a talent show!"

Daniel rushed onto the court before the teacher could stop him.

"My brother! My superstar! My future sponsor!"

Ezikiel held up a hand.

"Don't touch me. I need to understand what just happened."

Daniel ignored him and hugged him anyway.

Samuel approached more calmly.

"Congratulations."

Ezikiel stared at him.

"You look too normal for someone whose friend just defeated Chidi."

"I'm trying not to make assumptions based on a single match."

"Make assumptions! Celebrate! Do something irresponsible!"

Samuel smiled.

"Fine. You're buying me lunch tomorrow."

Ezikiel pushed his shoulder.

"That is not celebration. That's financial exploitation."

Chidi walked over.

For a moment, Ezikiel prepared himself for an argument.

Instead, Chidi held out his hand.

"Good game."

Ezikiel looked at it.

Then he shook it.

"Thanks. You played well too."

Chidi smiled.

"I thought you were just another guy trying to get attention. But you can actually play."

Ezikiel almost laughed.

If only Chidi knew how little sense the afternoon made to him.

"I guess I surprised you."

"You did. I'd like a rematch sometime."

Ezikiel's smile froze.

"A rematch?"

"Sure. Not today, though. I need to figure out how you got past me in those rounds."

Ezikiel swallowed.

"Maybe you should focus on your studies instead."

Chidi laughed.

"Nice try."

He turned to leave, then paused.

"And for what it's worth, I don't think you're a bad guy. I just didn't like people saying I was afraid of you."

"I understand."

"Good. See you around."

Chidi walked away.

Ezikiel watched him join his friends.

There was no anger in his expression now. No embarrassment. He looked thoughtful, perhaps even impressed.

Ezikiel released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He had survived.

More than survived, actually.

He had won.

He looked towards the sky again.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Daniel appeared beside him.

"Who are you thanking?"

"The universe."

"For what?"

"For not allowing me to embarrass myself in front of the entire school."

Daniel looked at the crowd, which was still discussing the match.

"You're famous now."

Ezikiel frowned.

"Please don't say that word."

"People are talking about you. Chidi respects you. Some girls were cheering for you."

"That doesn't mean I'm famous."

Samuel walked up behind them.

"Your social status has improved."

Ezikiel stared at him.

"By how much?"

Samuel thought about it.

"Ten percent, perhaps."

Ezikiel considered that.

"Only ten?"

"You were starting from a very low point."

Daniel burst out laughing.

Ezikiel shook his head.

"One day, I will become rich and powerful. Then both of you will regret treating me like this."

Daniel put an arm around his shoulders.

"When you're rich, remember who supported you."

"You told me to remember my ancestors during a basketball match."

"And you won!"

"That is not support. That is spiritual blackmail."

The sports teacher called for everyone to line up.

"All right! Enough excitement. We still have time for the rest of the activities. Nobody gets to skip sports because they won a match."

Ezikiel's face fell.

"What rest of the activities?"

"Fitness drills."

The crowd groaned.

Mr. Harris smiled.

"Wonderful. Since everyone has so much energy, we'll start with running."

Ezikiel looked at the sky one final time.

"Take it back."

Daniel was already laughing.

"Take what back?"

"My gratitude. The universe has betrayed me."

The teacher blew his whistle.

Everyone began running.

Ezikiel ran too, although he quickly discovered that whatever had made him good at basketball had not improved his endurance.

By the second lap, he was gasping.

By the third, he was questioning every decision that had led him to this school.

By the fourth, he had decided that Chidi could keep the basketball court, the popularity, and every other sport ever invented.

He wanted a chair.

A cold drink.

And a written apology from physical education.

When the period finally ended, Ezikiel collapsed onto a bench beside Daniel and Samuel.

Daniel sat beside him, still grinning.

"Three rounds to two."

Ezikiel closed his eyes.

"Please stop."

"You defeated Chidi."

"Stop."

"You are now a basketball player."

Ezikiel opened one eye.

"Call me a basketball player again, and I'll tell everyone you cried during that cartoon about the talking dog."

Daniel's grin vanished.

Samuel turned slowly towards Daniel.

"You cried during a cartoon about a talking dog?"

"It was a sad episode!"

Ezikiel sat up despite his exhaustion.

"Interesting. Very interesting."

Daniel pointed at him.

"You won a basketball match. That doesn't give you the right to expose my private life."

"It gives me many rights."

Samuel nodded.

"Legally, I don't think it does."

"Thank you, Samuel."

"Morally, however, I support him."

Daniel looked between them.

"I need better friends."

"You have us," Ezikiel said. "That is the problem."

They laughed as they headed back towards the changing rooms.

For the rest of the afternoon, people treated Ezikiel differently.

Students who had barely spoken to him before greeted him in the corridor. A girl from another class asked whether he planned to join the basketball team. Two boys argued over whether his final shot had been skill or luck.

Ezikiel answered every question with the same response.

"Honestly, I don't know."

It was the truth.

He didn't understand what had happened on that court.

He only knew that he had been terrible, then amazing, then terrible again, then amazing once more.

He had no explanation.

And he wasn't about to invent one.

Not yet.

When school ended, Daniel walked with him towards the gate.

"So," Daniel said, "are you going to join the basketball team?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I enjoy having a future."

Samuel joined them.

"You could at least attend one practice."

Ezikiel stopped walking.

"Samuel, imagine someone tells you that you are the best chef in the world. You enter a kitchen, and suddenly you can cook. Then you burn water. Would you return to the kitchen?"

Samuel thought about it.

"Burning water is difficult."

"Exactly. My point is that I am not going anywhere near another basketball until I understand what happened."

Daniel nodded seriously.

"Fair enough."

They reached the gate.

Chidi stood nearby with two other students. When he noticed Ezikiel, he raised a hand.

"See you tomorrow, Ezikiel."

Ezikiel waved back.

"Hopefully."

Chidi laughed.

"Don't worry. I won't ask for another match tomorrow."

"That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day."

Chidi shook his head and left.

Ezikiel watched him go.

For the first time, he didn't feel embarrassed about the match.

He had earned Chidi's respect, and Chidi had treated him fairly. That mattered more than Ezikiel wanted to admit.

Still, he wasn't interested in becoming a basketball celebrity.

He had other plans.

He wanted recognition, money, influence, and a life where people couldn't ignore him.

If a basketball match had made people notice him, fine.

But he wasn't going to build his future around a sport he barely understood.

He would find another way.

Something easier.

Something safer.

Something that wouldn't require running laps until his lungs tried to escape his body.

At home, his mother asked how school had gone.

Ezikiel sat at the table and accepted the plate she placed in front of him.

"Normal," he said.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Normal?"

"Mostly."

"Did you learn anything?"

He considered the question.

"I learned that teachers enjoy watching students suffer."

His mother laughed.

"That is not what I meant."

"I know."

He ate his dinner, went to his room, and lay on his bed.

His phone was full of messages.

Some congratulated him. Some asked how he had learned to play. One person he barely knew had invited him to a group chat called School Legends.

Ezikiel declined the invitation.

He was not joining a group chat with that name.

He had standards.

Low standards, perhaps, but standards nonetheless.

He placed his phone on the bedside table and stared at the ceiling.

Today, he had become slightly more popular.

Not enough to change his entire life, but enough to make people look at him differently.

He wasn't sure whether he liked it.

Attention was useful.

Attention could open doors.

But attention also came with expectations.

And expectations were dangerous.

He had no idea why he had won those rounds. He couldn't explain why his skills had disappeared or why they had returned.

Maybe it really had been luck.

Maybe he had somehow managed to play well without understanding how.

Maybe the universe had decided to give him one good day before returning to its usual business of humiliating him.

Whatever the reason, Ezikiel knew one thing.

He was not going to tell anyone how confused he was.

If people wanted to believe he was good at basketball, they could believe it.

He didn't have to correct them.

For once, being underestimated had worked in his favour.

Now he had a little attention, a little respect, and a new problem.

People expected him to do it again.

Ezikiel smiled faintly.

"Well," he murmured, "at least I'm interesting now."

He turned off the light.

Tomorrow, he would return to school.

And if anyone asked him to play basketball again, he already had an answer prepared.

"No."

A simple word.

A beautiful word.

A word that would save him from public humiliation.

At least, that was the plan.