"Some dreams begin with trophies. Others begin with a child who simply refuses to give up."
The rest of the day passed as though Mama's phone call had never happened.
She smiled through lunch, laughed at Papa's corny jokes, and even scolded Zero for leaving tiny toy car wheels scattered across the living room floor. Anyone looking from the outside would have believed everything was perfectly normal.
But every now and then, I'd catch her staring out the kitchen window, her smile fading for only a second before she noticed someone watching.
I tried convincing myself I was imagining it.
Maybe she really had received a work call.
Maybe I was simply overthinking things.
Still...
That quiet whisper lingered in the back of my mind.
"Please... let him have one normal birthday."
The next morning arrived with the unmistakable sound of bouncing rubber outside our gate.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Zero burst through the front door, already dressed in a faded basketball jersey that looked one size too big for him. His sneakers were untied, a basketball was tucked beneath one arm, and his hair was still damp from his rushed shower.
"Ate!" he called. "We're leaving in ten minutes!"
I looked up from my sketchbook. "Who's 'we'?"
"Me."
"You said 'we.'"
"I was hoping you'd volunteer."
"I didn't."
He sighed dramatically before dropping into the chair beside me.
"You never support my basketball career."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Basketball career?"
"Yes."
"The same career where you scored one point last week?"
"It was a very important point."
"You accidentally scored for the other team."
"Details."
I laughed as he snatched one of my pencils and began spinning it between his fingers.
"You know," I said, "I remember someone telling me he wanted to become a mechanic."
"I do."
"So why basketball?"
Zero shrugged.
"I like playing."
"And cars?"
"I love cars."
There wasn't even a moment's hesitation.
The answer came so naturally that it made me smile.
Basketball was fun.
Cars were his dream.
By eight o'clock, the small community court was already buzzing with children warming up for the weekend league.
Parents occupied the concrete bleachers beneath colorful umbrellas while younger siblings chased one another around the sidelines. A vendor pushed a cart filled with ice cream and cold drinks, ringing a tiny bell that echoed through the court.
Papa balanced a paper cup of coffee in one hand while carrying a folding chair in the other.
"I told you we'd be late," Mama teased.
"We're exactly on time."
"The game starts in fifteen minutes."
"See?" Papa smiled proudly. "Exactly."
Mama simply shook her head, unable to hide her amusement.
I sat beside her while Zero joined his teammates near the center of the court.
Despite all his excitement at home, he suddenly looked nervous.
He bounced the basketball twice before glancing toward the bleachers.
The moment he saw us waving, his shoulders relaxed.
"There he is," Papa said proudly. "Future NBA player."
"Future mechanic," Mama corrected.
Papa laughed.
"Right. Future mechanic who occasionally embarrasses himself playing basketball."
"I heard that!" Zero shouted from across the court.
"I wanted you to!"
The referee blew his whistle.
The game began.
For the first few minutes, Zero barely touched the ball.
He stayed near the wing, running back and forth while calling for passes that never came. Every time the ball bounced toward him, someone else grabbed it first.
I could see the frustration growing on his face.
Papa noticed it too.
"Come on, buddy," he whispered under his breath.
Halfway through the quarter, one of Zero's teammates stumbled while dribbling.
The basketball rolled free.
Without thinking, Zero sprinted after it.
He caught the ball just before it crossed the sideline, spun around instinctively, and drove toward the basket.
One defender.
Then another.
His movements weren't graceful.
They were messy.
Fast.
Determined.
He jumped.
The ball bounced against the backboard...
Circled the rim...
And dropped through the net.
The crowd erupted into applause.
"That's my boy!" Papa shouted, jumping to his feet so quickly that his coffee nearly spilled onto the man sitting beside him.
Zero landed awkwardly before looking toward us.
The grin on his face stretched from ear to ear.
Not because he'd scored.
Because he'd found us in the crowd.
He raised both fists in celebration.
Papa answered with an exaggerated thumbs-up.
Mama clapped harder than anyone.
I stood and cupped my hands around my mouth.
"Good job, Zero!"
His smile somehow grew even bigger.
Our team eventually lost by six points.
Normally, Zero would've spent the entire walk home replaying every missed shot.
Instead, he bounced the basketball casually against the sidewalk before catching it under one arm.
"I scored six."
"You did," Papa agreed.
"And I only tripped once."
"I counted twice," I teased.
"One and a half." He corrected
"There isn't a half." i chucked and rolled my eyes teasingly
"There is if you recover before falling." Papa laughed.
"I'll allow it."
As they continued debating the technical definition of falling, we passed a small automotive repair shop.
A bright red sports car sat parked outside with its hood raised.
Zero stopped walking.
Completely.
His eyes locked onto the engine.
The basketball slipped from beneath his arm and rolled gently across the pavement.
Papa noticed immediately.
"What caught your attention?"
Zero slowly approached the car, careful not to cross onto the property.
"I've only seen one like this online," he whispered.
An elderly mechanic looked up from beneath the hood and smiled. "You like cars, kid?"
Zero nodded eagerly. "Very much."
The mechanic stepped aside. "Come take a look."
Zero glanced at Papa for permission.
Papa smiled. "Go ahead."
For the next several minutes, the old mechanic explained different engine parts while Zero listened with complete focus, asking question after question.
"What's that?" "Why is this pipe bigger?" "Does every sports car sound different?"
I had never seen him this fascinated. Not even during basketball.
The mechanic chuckled. "You've got curious hands."
Zero smiled sheepishly. "I want to fix cars someday."
"I think you'll do just fine."
As we continued walking home afterward, Zero barely noticed the basketball tucked beneath his arm.
He spent the entire trip talking about engines, transmissions, race cars, and the sports car he'd just seen.
Papa listened carefully before placing an arm around his shoulders.
"You know," he said, "dreams don't have to stay dreams."
Zero looked up. "They don't?"
"No." Papa smiled warmly.
"They just need someone willing to work for them." Zero nodded slowly.
"I will."
"I know you will."
I watched the two of them walk a few steps ahead of us.
Mama slipped her hand into mine. "They grow up so fast," she murmured.
I squeezed her hand gently.
"He'll always be our little Zero."
She smiled. "I hope so."
There was something about the way she said it that made me glance at her.
It wasn't sadness.
It was longing.
As though she wished she could freeze time exactly where it was.
For just a little longer.
❦ End of Chapter Six ❦
— IamPrecious —