Kyle stared at the screen, watching highlights from the showcase. Not his. KJ's.
The older brother looked unreal—making defenders fall, scoring calmly, showing bursts of speed and vision that had Twitter buzzing again. One tweet had gone viral:
"This kid KJ is the truth. First team material within 2 years. Book it."
Kyle clicked off the video. His chest was tight.
He wasn't jealous—at least, he told himself he wasn't. KJ was killing it with the U19s. He deserved the attention.
But Kyle? He was playing up with the U16s, still adjusting to the faster pace. No flashy goals. No viral clips. Just grinding.
He felt invisible.
⸻
At training the next morning, Kyle didn't smile. Didn't talk. He destroyed every 1v1 in the warmups. Nutmegged one defender so badly the coaches had to hide their laughs.
But when he scored in the small-sided game, he didn't celebrate. Just turned and walked back.
One of the older players bumped into him.
"You good, baller?"
Kyle nodded, barely.
The coach noticed. Pulled him aside.
"You're pressing, Kyle."
"I'm just playing," he muttered.
"You're trying to make a statement."
Kyle didn't answer. Because it was true.
⸻
Later that night, he sat in the shared room he had with Kareem. Kareem was scribbling in a notebook, probably drawing out tactics or future plans or whatever weird stuff his little brother always did.
Kyle broke the silence.
"You ever feel… like you're not seen?"
Kareem looked up.
"I see you."
"That's not what I meant."
Kareem put down the notebook.
"You mean KJ. And the attention."
Kyle nodded, staring at the ceiling.
"I don't wanna be 'KJ's brother' forever."
Kareem didn't laugh. He nodded.
"I won't be just 'Kyle's brother' either. But you know what'll change it?"
"What?"
"When we make them say our names."
Kyle sat with that for a second.
"And what if they never do?"
Kareem smirked. "Then we make 'em regret it."