A Helicopter Skyline

Dribbling up to the three-point line, I launch the basketball from my chest, complete the shot with a follow through with my right arm, and watch the ball soar through the air, swishing right through the net. Then I proceed to collecting my ball, which was one of a kind because it had been signed by all of my teammates, my best friends. And just to make it extraordinarily special, right smack in the middle of the ball was my coach, Kobe Bryant’s signature. Since I had randomly showed up at Hoopoholics (which was now called Mamba Sports Academy) tryouts, I realized that Gianna Bryant played for them, and made the team. I consider myself one of the luckiest girls alive. I’d never really known how good I was at basketball until Kobe and Gigi showed up in my life. The three of us train for hours in the Mamba’s gym, and I learn how much I’m able to do. I always push myself to my limit and there’s not a day that I don’t work as hard as Gigi, yet she can always out do me. I’m fine with that. Gigi is my best friend, and she’s our point guard, and captain of the team. She and I dream of attending the University of Connecticut, the nation’s top women’s basketball team. 

I spin the ball around in my hands and touch her signature, reminding myself that I have a lot of work to do today to prepare myself for the tournament our team is entering tomorrow in Los Angeles. The chilly January air makes me sink lower in my sweatshirt like a turtle sinking back into her shell. The grass that lines the driveway is moist from a day’s worth of rain and grey clouds hover above my grandma’s house. My family visits my mom’s mom who lives in Portland, Oregon, once a month. This visit I am only a tad bit disappointed. Gigi had invited a couple of our teammates and me to ride in her dad’s helicopter on their way to the tournament to avoid the LA traffic. I had to say no because being that I’d only be leaving Grandma’s house when they took off. I tell myself I’ll see them when I get there as I move on to practicing my ball-handling.  

— 

After getting a good night’s rest, gobbling down Grandma’s delicious blueberry muffins, and putting on my black Mamba Academy jersey, we’re off. Dad drives me while Mom stays at Grandma’s with my younger sister. In the car, Dad gives me a motivational talk and we listen to upbeat music. Even though the weather man predicted a clear sunny day, the sun is nowhere in sight and the sky is the exact opposite of clear. The gloom that surrounds us has no way of entering the car and changing my attitude, though. I cheerfully lip-sing along with the country music that plays and Dad taps his finger on the steering wheel to the beat while we sit in traffic the whole way to Champions Basketball Facility. Dad’s car teeters and bumps as we drive on the gravel parking lot and pull into an empty, paint-marked spot.

When I get out of the car, I suck in the fresh Los Angeles air and realize that I don’t see my team huddling outside of the building like we always do before games and the parking lot seems strangely still. Dad and I proceed to the side door and push open the huge, heavy double doors. When we slip inside, we emerge into a room with high ceilings and three basketball courts lining each other. Except, instead of seeing girls warming up and parents piling into the stands, I see the tournament participants standing in a huge group of a couples hundred people on the third court. I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Dad rushes me over to them, and I spot a few girls from my team clinging to their parents like babies being forced to sit on Santa Claus’s lap. I glance around the court frantically. Kobe, Gigi, and half my team are nowhere in sight.  

Maybe their helicopter hasn’t arrived yet, I figure in my head. 

Desperately wanting to know what was going on and why no one was getting ready for the games, I approach Ava, one of my teammates, who is standing underneath the basketball hoop with her hands buried in her pockets and her hood over her head. Ava is always super spunky and happy, so I tighten up and my stomach spins around inside of me like a laundry machine at the sight of her eyes welling up with tears. 

“What’s wrong?” I question.  

A mixture of emotions appear on her face in one expression like a thousand cans of different, bright colored paints had spilled over and combined into one ugly brown color.  

“Oh C- Carmen! Kobe and Gigi- their helicopter… they d- died,” she sputtered between sobs.  

At first, I don’t process what she’d said but when I do, I don’t want to believe her. I don’t want to believe my ears. I really want to shake Ava and demand her to take her words back and tell me something different- something I want to hear. I am dying to watch everyone around the room break into laughter and tell me that this is all a prank and that my teammates and coach are just hiding in the back room.  

“No,” is all I can manage to say. My mouth dries up, my breathing pace increases, and I can hear my heart beating in my ears. Deciding I need to sit down somewhere or else I’ll faint, I stumble over to any empty spot on the bleachers, my chin trembling. The lump in my throat causes tears to form in my eyes and fall down my face. I fix my eyes on the floor beneath me, and I don’t even look up when Dad comes to sit next to me.  

“Do you want to go home?” he asks me, his voice cracking.  

“No,” I utter, because I truly don’t, but I stand up anyways and Dad follows me out the double doors.  

On the ride home, I stretch out on the back seat of Dad’s car, needing some time to myself to think. I hadn’t really understood what had happened to Kobe and Gigi and the rest of the team when Ava had told me, but one thing was clear; they were dead.  

— 

From the time Dad and I arrived home to now, (two days later) I have been isolating myself in bed “sick”. I have been skipping school, claiming to have a stomach virus. My parents tell me that Kobe’s death is all over the news, and I only had to watch a minute to know that their helicopter blew up after hitting a mountain due to fog and a difficult time navigating the air. No one had survived.  

I think a lot while I lay flat on my back, staring at the empty, white ceiling. I make up my mind about one thing; I will never be able to play basketball again, knowing that my best friend and mentor, not to mention half of my team, are dead. The thought kills me because basketball is my life and I have some huge goals for myself, but I won’t do it without Gigi and Kobe by my side.  

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I pull out my cellphone and text Gigi’s phone, knowing that she won’t be able to see it anyways. I type; Oh Gigi, I miss you so much! What should I do? Give me a sign that you’re still with me and that I should keep playing basketball.  

I know that my text means absolutely nothing and likely no one will see it, but I send it anyways. After about two minutes, my dog Charlie ambles into my room with his chewed-up tennis ball and sets it down on my bed.  

“Not right now Charlie, we’ll play later,” I mumble.  

In response, Charlie follows up with a series of barking and yapping. Even when I try to shush him, he won’t be quiet. I huff out all the air that I’m holding in and lead him outside, my eyes glued to my feet. The air is crisp around me and the grass has a layer of frost on it. When I finally decide to look up, I gasp at the sight of something wondrous. In the sky where the sun is setting purplish- blue and yellow (Lakers colors) and a tint of rose gold (Gigi’s favorite color), I catch sight of a helicopter flying across the horizon. My eyes widen and my jaw drops. Charlie is silent in his place next to me. My text has been answered! This is Gigi and Kobe’s sign to me that they are still with me and want me to continue doing what I love- basketball. Sour tears form in my eyes, but the funny thing is, I’m feeling a tint of sweetness in my heart now that I know that Kobe and Gigi are still with me. I drop Charlie’s tennis ball and dart over to my basketball hoop. While I shoot around, I decide something; whatever happens to me in my basketball journey, it will all be dedicated to Kobe and Gigi.