The graveyard was quiet except for the sound of my footsteps on the gravel path. I'd been walking these same steps every week since I got out of Cook County Juvenile two days ago, but it still felt weird talking to a headstone.
"Aye, Tay," I said, sitting down in front of the simple granite marker that read Tayshawn Mitchell - Beloved Son and Father. "I'm out, bro. Did my two months."
I pulled out the ultrasound picture that Maya had given me at the funeral. She was seven months now, belly getting big. Little girl was gonna be here soon.
"Your baby girl's gonna be here next month, man. Maya's doing good. Still can't believe you made me the godfather though. You know I don't know shit about babies."
I laughed, but it came out hollow.
"She's gonna have your eyes, bro. I can already tell from these ultrasound pictures."
The wind picked up, rustling the fake flowers someone had left on a nearby grave. I'd brought real ones today - daisies, 'cause Tayshawn always said they reminded him of Maya's smile.
"Those North Side punks got what they deserved," I said, my voice getting harder. "Me, Dre, and Marcus made sure of that. They thought 'cause you went straight, got that job at the warehouse, that you were soft. Thought they could run up on you outside Maya's place and test you."
I clenched my fists, remembering how they'd rolled up on him three deep just because he wouldn't bang with them anymore. How they'd shot him right there on the sidewalk while he was carrying groceries up to his girl. How he died before the ambulance even got there.
"I kept my promise though. Every single one of them got theirs. And I'd do that shit again if I had to, even knowing I'd get caught."
I stood up and brushed the grass off my jeans.
"But check this out - some crazy shit's happening. Remember my mom's parents? Grandma Janet and Grandpa William? The ones with all the money who never came around 'cause they didn't like my pops?"
I looked down at the headstone like Tayshawn might actually answer.
"Yeah, them. Well, after Mom collapsed and ended up in the hospital, and with Dad locked up upstate, they came to get me. They got this big-ass house in Hyde Park, bro. Like, stupid money. Grandpa William been running some investment firm for like thirty years."
The irony wasn't lost on me. My dad had been in the streets trying to get money to take care of us, and my mom had worked herself into a hospital bed, but my grandparents had been sitting on millions the whole time.
They'd cut my mom off when she chose to stay with Dad after his first arrest, said she was "throwing her life away." Took Mom damn near dying for them to reach out.
"They talking about sending me to some boarding school in California. Not just any boarding school - this place called Malibu Prep Academy. It's like where all the rich kids go, but their football team been struggling. Haven't won shit in years even though they got all the best facilities and coaching."
I pulled out my phone and showed the headstone a picture like Tayshawn could see it.
"Look at this place, man. It's right on the beach. Their practice field probably cost more than our whole neighborhood."
A car drove by on the street behind me, music thumping. Reminded me of all the times me and Tayshawn would ride around the neighborhood, talking about getting out, making something of ourselves.
He'd always said I was the one with the real talent. Said I was gonna make it out for both of us.
"You should see the numbers I put up this year before I got locked up," I said, settling back down by his grave. "Bro, I was going crazy out there. 104 catches for 1,423 yards and 14 touchdowns. That's like 13.7 yards per catch. I took two kickoffs to the house too - had 561 return yards total."
I could almost hear Tayshawn laughing about my stats. He used to joke that I was gonna break my arm patting myself on the back.
"But that ain't even the crazy part. When they needed me on defense, I had three picks and eight pass breakups. Coach Williams had me playing free safety sometimes 'cause I could read quarterbacks like a book. And when they needed me to run the ball? Shit, I averaged 6.8 yards per carry on 104 rushing yards."
I shook my head, thinking about how much I dominated.
"Basketball season was just as crazy. I averaged 14.5 points, 5.3 rebounds, and 3 assists. Would've been higher but Coach Johnson wanted me to get everyone involved. Track season I went 23-1 in the long jump and would've gone to state if I hadn't gotten locked up."
But even as I said it, I knew the truth that Tayshawn would've called me out on.
"Real talk though, bro - that was against South Side competition. Half them dudes at Lincoln Park barely knew how to run routes. Our weight room was three rusty benches and some dumbbells that been there since the 90s. These California kids probably been training with personal coaches since middle school."
I stood up and placed the daisies by his headstone.
"Your baby girl's gonna know who her daddy was," I promised. "I'm gonna tell her stories about you. About how you tried to change your life. About how you worked your ass off at that warehouse even though it paid minimum wage. About how much you loved her even before she was born."
I knelt down one more time.
"And I'm gonna make sure she's straight. Whatever this California thing leads to - college, NFL, whatever - I'm gonna take care of her. That's my word, bro."
The house in Hyde Park still felt like a museum to me. Everything was too clean, too expensive, too perfect.
Grandma Janet had tried to make me feel comfortable - bought me new clothes, set up a gaming system in what used to be their guest room, stocked the fridge with all my favorite foods. But it was still weird as hell.
Grandpa William was in his office on a conference call when I got back. Grandma Janet was in the kitchen, and from the smell of it, she was actually cooking instead of ordering takeout like I expected rich people to do.
"How was your visit?" she asked without turning around from the stove.
"It was good. Tay would've gotten a kick out of all this." I gestured around the kitchen that was bigger than our whole apartment on the South Side.
Grandma Janet turned around, and I could see she was trying not to cry. She did that a lot lately - got emotional whenever I talked about my old life.
I think she felt guilty about not being there before.
"Jakari, I want you to know that your grandfather and I are proud of you. For staying loyal to your friend. For taking care of your responsibilities even when it cost you."
"Even though I got arrested?"
"Especially because you got arrested. You stood up for someone you loved who couldn't stand up for himself. That takes character." She wiped her hands on a dish towel. "Your mother raised you right, even with everything she was dealing with."
I sat down at the kitchen island.
"How is she? For real this time, not the 'she's getting better' stuff y'all been telling me."
Grandma Janet's face got serious.
"She's stable. The doctors say her body just... gave out. Too much stress, too many double shifts, not enough sleep or proper food. She's gonna need months of rest and therapy."
"Because Dad wasn't there to help."
"Because life is hard, and your mother did what she thought she had to do." Grandma Janet sat down across from me. "I know you probably think your grandfather and I should've helped sooner. And you're right. I was angry at your mother for choosing your father, and I let that anger keep me from being there for you. That's on me."
I didn't know what to say to that. In the hood, people didn't really apologize like that. They just moved on and acted like nothing happened.
Grandpa William walked into the kitchen, phone call finished. He was a tall, distinguished-looking dude who still looked like he could handle himself despite being in his sixties.
"We need to talk about your future, son," he said, sitting down at the table. "About getting you out of Chicago as soon as possible."
"What you mean?"
Grandma Janet and Grandpa William looked at each other like they'd already discussed this.
"We don't want you here another day longer than necessary," Grandma Janet said. "Every day you stay in this city is another day something could go wrong. Another friend could get hurt. Another situation could pull you back into that life."
"But I got Maya to think about. The baby's due next month. I'm supposed to be the godfather."
"And you will be," Grandpa William said firmly. "But from California. We've already talked to Maya, and she understands. We're going to make sure she and the baby are taken care of financially."
He pulled out a folder and spread some papers on the table.
"Malibu Prep Academy. It's one of the most expensive private schools in the country. Their football program competes against the best teams in California - teams that send multiple players to Division I colleges every year."
I looked at the pictures. The campus looked like something from a movie. Ocean views, perfect grass fields, buildings that looked like they belonged at a college.
"But here's the thing," Grandpa William continued. "They haven't been successful lately. Haven't won a championship in five years. Good coaching, great facilities, but they need players with that extra something. Players who know how to fight."
"You think I can compete out there?"
"Son, I looked up your stats. You put up video game numbers against Chicago competition. But more than that, you've got something these rich kids don't have - you've had to earn everything. You know what it feels like to be hungry."
Grandma Janet leaned forward.
"We want you to leave next week."
"Next week? But school don't end for another month."
"Exactly. That gives you time to get settled, meet the team, start training with them before the season starts. Get a head start on the academics too."
I thought about everything I'd be leaving behind. Maya and the baby. Tayshawn's grave. The only neighborhood I'd ever known.
"What if I can't cut it? What if I get out there and find out I ain't as good as I think I am?"
Grandpa William smiled.
"Then you'll work harder until you are. But Jakari, you're more talented than you realize. I've been watching your game film. You don't just catch passes - you attack the ball. You don't just run routes - you set up defenders. That's instinct. That can't be taught."
"And the competition is gonna make you better," Grandma Janet added. "You've been the best player on every team you've ever been on. Time to see what happens when you're challenged."
After dinner, I went up to my room and called Maya to check on her.
"How you feeling?" I asked.
"Big as a house," she laughed. "Doctor says she's gonna be here any day now."
"Maya, my grandparents want me to leave for California next week."
The line got quiet for a second.
"I know," she said finally. "Your grandma came by yesterday. Explained everything. She also left me a check that's gonna take care of me and the baby for years."
"You mad at me for leaving?"
"Jakari, you know Tayshawn would want you to go. He always said you were gonna make it out for both of y'all. Now you got the chance."
"But what about being the godfather? What about—"
"You can be her godfather from California just like you can from Chicago. Maybe better, 'cause you'll be setting an example for her. Showing her what's possible."
After we hung up, I lay in bed thinking about everything that was about to change. In one week, I'd be living on the other side of the country, going to school with kids who probably never even seen the hood, playing football against competition I'd only dreamed about.
The weight of it all was heavy. My mom in the hospital. My dad in prison. Tayshawn in the ground. Maya about to have a baby.
And me, about to walk into a world where I'd probably be the only kid who'd ever been arrested, ever been hungry, ever had to choose between loyalty and survival.
But maybe that was exactly what I needed. Maybe I'd been playing on easy mode my whole life, dominating against kids who didn't have the same hunger, the same need to succeed.
I closed my eyes and thought about my promise to Tayshawn. About the promise I'd made to my mom before she collapsed. About the promise I was making to myself right now.
I'm gonna show these California kids what Chicago football looks like, I thought. Whatever it takes, however hard it gets, I'm gonna prove I belong. For all of them.
As soon as I made that promise to myself, something weird happened. It felt like electricity running through my whole body, starting in my chest and spreading out to my hands and feet.
My eyes snapped open and I sat up, but the feeling was already fading.
Then I heard it. Not with my ears, but inside my head, clear as day:
JERRY RICE 2004 SEASON LOADED
I looked around the room, expecting to see a TV or phone or something that could've made that sound. But there was nothing.
"What the fuck?" I shouted