December 26 – Arrival in Kingston, JamaicaThe sun burned hotter than he remembered.
Kyle stepped off the plane in a black hoodie, head low, duffel bag dragging behind him.
The moment his Jordans touched Jamaican soil again, something cracked open in his chest.
Not nostalgia.
Resentment.
"Mi should've been here."
He didn't come back as a star.
He came back as a son without a mother.
And a fire with no place to burn.
U17 National Team Camp – Kingston Sports CentreKyle walked into the facility.
All eyes turned.
He was taller. Broader. Silent.
Even Coach Whitmore froze mid-conversation.
"Wilson," he nodded. "Mi glad you make it."
Kyle barely nodded.
Day 1 Scrimmage – Controlled ViolenceHe didn't speak to teammates.
Didn't crack jokes.
Didn't smile once.
But on the court?
He dominated.
Rebounds ripped like prison riots.
Screens set like car crashes.
Blocks that echoed like gunshots.
Fouls? Hard. Intentional.
On one possession, a guard tried to drive on him.
Kyle sent the kid into the stanchion.
Whitmore blew the whistle.
"Kyle! That's your teammate!"
Kyle just stared.
Eyes dark.
Breathing calm.
The other players whispered:
"He not here to hoop. He here for blood."
December 28 – Montego Bay Streets WhisperWord spread fast.
Kyle Wilson was back.
Nichola's boy.
Now a killer on the court.
But off the court?
Kyle was moving different.
He met with Dre in a small bar near the hillside.
"Mi want a favor," Kyle said.
"What kind?" Dre asked.
"Mi want to know… who Chino got left. And who want him gone."
Dre leaned back.
"You sure?"
Kyle's eyes never wavered.
"Mi not asking to scare him. Mi asking… to end him."
Dre's Warning"You do this… your future gone."
Kyle stared through his drink.
"Mi future already dead with mi mother."
Dre leaned in closer.
"You forget the NBA? The scholarships? The life she wanted for you?"
Kyle whispered:
"What's a dream… if yuh heart full of ashes?"
December 30 – Practice ExplosionScrimmage. Intense. Kyle vs. Jahari Morris, a 6'6" loudmouth wing from St. Ann.
Jahari barked in his face after a dunk.
"Mi thought yuh supposed to be famous?"
Kyle snapped.
Next play: body check. Elbow to ribs. Full-on fight.
Coaches pulled them apart.
Kyle didn't apologize.
Coach Whitmore pulled him aside after.
"Mi know you hurting. But if you don't control it, you done. One more outburst, and you off the team."
Kyle said nothing.
Night Mission – The SetupThat night, Kyle snuck out.
He met Dre in a back alley near Flankers.
A man waited there. Older. Burned scars down his arms. Quiet eyes.
Dre introduced him:
"Scully. Former enforcer. Got beef with Chino too."
Scully nodded once. "Mi hear about you, baller boy."
Kyle didn't flinch.
"Mi not here to be seen. Mi here to send a message."
Scully slid a paper over.
Chino's cousin. His supplier. His guard rotation at the prison.
"Yuh sure you want this road?"
Kyle looked up.
"Mi already walking it."
Back in Camp – The Eyes WatchingSomeone snitched.
Coach Whitmore called Kyle into his office.
"You left the barracks last night."
Kyle didn't deny it.
"You think we blind? You think we don't know why you back for real?"
Kyle stared him dead in the eye.
"I'm here for national duty."
Whitmore slammed his fist on the desk.
"No. You here to bury ghosts with more blood. That's not what this jersey stand for."
A long pause.
"Miss Nichola raised a king. Not a killer."
Kyle turned his back and walked out.
But inside?
He wasn't sure anymore.
January 2 – Game 1: Jamaica U17 vs. Bahamas U17 (Friendly)The stands were packed.
Kyle wore the number 4 jersey.
They announced his name last.
"KYLE WILSON!"
Cheers.
Then silence.
Because his eyes looked dead.
The Game – Controlled FuryKyle opened with a dunk off tip.
Then a chase-down block.
Then another.
He didn't celebrate.
Didn't yell.
But when a Bahamian forward threw a cheap elbow?
Kyle dropped him with a screen the next play.
Crowd gasped.
Bench stood up.
Coach Whitmore didn't sub him.
He just let him work.
18 points.
11 rebounds.
3 blocks.
1 technical.
Jamaica won by 14.
The Fallout – That NightAfter the game, Kyle sat in his hotel room.
A phone buzzed.
A message from Scully:
"Chino's transfer moved. He's vulnerable. But timing rough."
Kyle didn't reply.
He stared at the ceiling.
Thought about her voice.
Thought about Zion. Ja. RJ.
Thought about every kid who wanted to be him.
Then he stood.
And deleted the message.
The CrossroadsCoach Whitmore found him the next morning.
"You leave again… you off the team."
Kyle nodded.
"Mi nah leaving."
Whitmore raised an eyebrow.
"What change?"
Kyle looked down.
"Mi mother never wanted me to become what killed her."
Whitmore nodded once.
"Good. Now let's get you back to ball."
Final Scene – Back to the PaintThat night, Kyle stood alone in the gym again.
Shooting free throws.
Whispers still circled the city.
Chino still lived.
But for now?
Kyle had chosen the harder road.
To live.
To heal.
To rise.
He shot again.
Swish.
"Mi not done. Not yet."