The next day they were finally leaving the U.S., flying to Japan to join that fancy new school of theirs. Because of that, Tyrone – the only one from Los Angeles, Compton – decided to spend his final day at home with family. He also wanted to give part of his stipend to his mom so she could repair her car. He didn't want her riding the bus anymore. A simple ten-minute trip by car could easily turn into an hour-long adventure on L.A.'s public transport system. His little siblings needed at least their mother around, especially since Dad had passed away.
His home looked like most homes in Compton – clearly worn down, but not falling apart. His father, back when he was alive, had always taken care of it. Plumbing fixed on time, roof patched before the rain came, new window frames when the old ones gave out. He was one of those guys who could build or repair anything with his hands. Sometimes Tyrone used to joke that folks around thought his dad was a Mexican with how naturally he handled a hammer. But the truth was simpler – his dad had grown up on a farm.
Yeah, Tyrone's grandparents had been farmers once. His grandfather handled the fieldwork, while his grandmother, a college-educated accountant, ran the business side of things. They lived comfortably until Tyrone's grandmother passed away when his father was just eight. It was some new medication – supposedly harmless, approved by the FDA, until it wasn't. "Fuck FDA," his father used to say, "it's always safe until proven otherwise with them." She'd only had a mild cold, but passed away after the backlash from the medication shut down a couple of her organs. A wave of sudden deaths followed, and the drug quietly disappeared from the shelves.
After that, everything started falling apart. The farm struggled – too much work, too little help, and no one left to handle the books. Tyrone's father started working young, but it wasn't enough. He dreamed of studying agriculture, learning how to turn the family land around. But when he turned sixteen, the bank seized the farm after missed payment after missed payment.
They moved to the city looking for work. That's how his father ended up in Compton. It was one of the few places they could afford. He finished high school there and met Tyrone's mother soon after. He always said it was hard at first – that he was one of only two white kids in his class – but he adjusted. He always did.
Tyrone's grandfather died shortly after Tyrone was born. Overwork and stress finally caught up with him. Tyrone barely remembered him – just flashes of a tired man who told bedtime stories and smelled faintly of sawdust. All that was left of him now was the house they lived in.
His dad used to tell him that one day they'd have a farm of their own again. Maybe, Tyrone thought, when he makes it big, instead of buying a mansion, he'll buy a farm. Somewhere quiet, where the air smells like grass and nature stretches into the horizon.
He smiled at the thought. Yeah… that would be awesome.
~~~~~
He entered the house and was greeted by the familiar chaos of five younger siblings. The twin boys, Tyrell and Tyrese, both twelve, were arguing about who'd get to play Call of Duty next. Six-year-old Tristan sat at the kitchen table, drawing something unrecognizable and singing a tune from Despicable Me at the top of his lungs.
His fourteen-year-old sister, Sienna, was helping Mom in the kitchen, while the youngest, four-year-old baby Seobhan, was napping on the couch clutching a stuffed bunny. Their mother had taken the day off – a rare thing – because they wouldn't be seeing Tyrone again for a long time.
She was still a beautiful woman despite the exhaustion she carried. Tall and slim – though that slimness came less from beauty standards and more from tiredness, stress, and skipping meals. Her long, curly black hair was tied back, and her warm hazel eyes softened every time she looked at her children.
When she saw Tyrone, she wiped her hands and came out to hug him. It felt strange being so much taller and broader than his mother. She always teased him about it, saying she still couldn't believe he came out of her.
"Food's almost ready," she said.
Before she could let go, Tyrone handed her a roll of cash. "I took a few hundred for myself. The rest is yours – twenty hundred. Should be enough to fix the car."
At first she refused, shaking her head. She couldn't take money from her underage son. But Tyrone insisted – the kids needed her, and she needed the car if she was going to get them anywhere. He half-joked that he didn't want to become an orphan if some lunatic on a bus decided to make trouble.
She sighed, eyes wet but smiling, and finally took the money.
Soon they gathered around the dinner table. The food smelled like home – fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and cornbread. The twins started teasing Sienna about having a boyfriend.
Tyrone's heart stopped for a second. Boyfriend?
He looked at her – Sienna, the one he was closest to. She looked like a lighter-skinned version of their mother, with their father's green eyes. Tall for her age, already looking sixteen. If any guy tried anything with her, Tyrone swore he'd bury him right under this kitchen floor.
Thankfully, Sienna rolled her eyes and said it wasn't true. Tyrone relaxed, but the thought lingered – she was growing up. He'd need to stay in touch, call them every day, check on all of them.
They ate, talked about Japan, about the program, the coaches, the teammates. The mood was light until his mother asked, "Why don't you invite your teammates today? We've got enough food to feed the whole team."
"Nah, no need," Tyrone said.
"But why not? Back in middle school you used to bring your teammates over all the time. It was fun."
Tyrone thought about it. She was right – it would be rude not to invite them, especially since he was the only local. So he pulled out his phone and called Ector. Ector picked up right away and agreed to round up the guys. Then Tyrone called Coach Daniel, since nobody was close enough to Coach K to call him personally.
They all agreed to come – by charter bus.
All that was left was to wait for them to arrive.
Tyrone glanced around at the table – his mother, his siblings, the familiar clutter of home – and hoped the guys wouldn't cause too much trouble once they got there.