Chapter 32: Stolen Futures My brain short-circuited. Marco’s last words echoed, “It was Miguel… He paid my cousin to get it back… He’s in the hospital.” I couldn't think straight. The air in the gym felt thick, suffocating. Miguel, that smug son of a bitch, had escalated everything to a level I couldn't have imagined. A kid in the hospital? All over a goddamn earring? The other kids were closing in, their faces a mix of confusion and protectiveness towards Marco. I needed to get him out of here, away from them, away from any potential danger connected to Miguel. “Marco, come with me,” I said, my voice urgent, grabbing his hand. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with fear. "Where are we going, Coach?" “Somewhere safe,” I replied, pulling him along. “Just trust me.” I didn't wait for him to respond. I tugged him towards the gym doors, ignoring the protests erupting behind us. “Hey, Coach Crazy, where you taking him?” “Leave him alone!” I didn’t answer. I just kept running, Marco stumbling to keep up. We burst out of the youth center and onto the bustling Bronx street. I didn’t have a plan, just a desperate need to protect this kid and figure out what the hell was going on. We ran for a few blocks, weaving through traffic and dodging pedestrians, until I finally stopped, breathless, in front of a small, unassuming bodega. “Wait here,” I told Marco, panting. “I need to make a call.” I stepped inside, the smell of stale coffee and cheap snacks hitting me like a wall. The owner, a middle-aged Dominican man with tired eyes, eyed me with suspicion. “Bathroom’s for customers only,” he grunted. “I need to use your phone,” I said, pulling out a crumpled twenty. “Emergency.” He hesitated, then nodded towards the payphone in the corner. “Five minutes.” I didn’t waste any time. I dialed Lenny’s number, my hands shaking. He picked up on the third ring. “Jim? What the hell is going on? Ms. Hanover’s been trying to reach you for hours.” His voice was laced with exhaustion and a hint of panic. “Did you violate your community service again? Is there something else I need to be aware of?” “Dad, listen,” I said, my voice strained. “It’s about Miguel. He’s involved in something… bad. Marco told me that Miguel paid his cousin to get the earring back from the bodega owner. There was a fight, and his cousin is in the hospital.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I could practically feel Lenny’s frustration radiating through the phone. “Hospital? What are you talking about, Jim? What have you gotten yourself into *this time*?” “I didn’t do anything, Dad! I swear. I just found out about it. Miguel’s out of control. He needs to be stopped.” “Okay, okay,” Lenny said, his voice softening slightly. “Just… stay where you are. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll call Ms. Hanover and we’ll figure this out.” “No, Dad. You don’t understand. Miguel’s gone. He’s disappeared. We need to find him.” “The police will find him, Jim. That’s their job. You need to stay out of it. You’re already in enough trouble.” “But what about Marco’s cousin? What if Miguel hurts someone else?” “Jim,” Lenny said firmly. “Let the authorities handle it. Please. For once in your life, just listen to me.” I knew he was right, logically. I couldn’t go after Miguel myself. I’d only make things worse. But the thought of that bastard roaming free, potentially hurting more people, gnawed at me. “Okay, Dad,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll stay put.” “Good,” Lenny sighed. “I’ll call you back as soon as I have more information. And Jim… please, try to stay out of trouble.” I hung up the phone, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. I needed to do something, anything, to help. But what? I stepped out of the bodega, and Marco was exactly where I left him. He was sitting on the curb, watching the street with a wary expression. "What's going to happen to Miguel?" Marco asked quietly. I sighed, sitting down next to him. "He'll be arrested, I hope. What he did was wrong." "He's my friend," Marco said, his voice barely a whisper. "He's all I have." I felt a pang of sympathy for the kid. He was caught in the middle of something he didn't understand, torn between loyalty and fear. "I know it's tough, Marco," I said gently. "But sometimes, friends do bad things. And when they do, they need to be held accountable." We sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the cars whiz by. I knew I couldn’t just stand by and wait for the police to act. I had to do everything I could to make sure Miguel was brought to justice. I pulled out Miguel’s diamond earring from Marco’s ear, the metal cold against my palm. It felt heavy, a symbol of the chaos and violence Miguel had unleashed. I held it out to Marco. "Here," I said. "Take it. He obviously liked it enough to start all this over it." Marco looked at the earring, then back at me. "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to tell the police everything," I said, standing up. "Everything you told me. Everything I know." Marco looked scared. “But… but what if they find out it was me who told you? Miguel will kill me.” “They won’t,” I reassured him, even though I wasn’t entirely sure that was true. “I won’t let them. I’ll protect you.” I knew I was making a huge decision, one that could have serious consequences for my future. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to stop Miguel. I walked back into the bodega and asked the owner to call the police. He looked at me like I was crazy, but he reluctantly agreed. While we waited, I thought about Demitra. Her voice, cut short on the phone. The regret, or maybe disappointment, I thought I heard in it. I’d fucked up again, royally. And I didn’t even know what she’d wanted to tell me before Miguel’s call interrupted everything. I also thought about my family. Lenny, Roxanne, Greg, Keithie, Becky. How would they react to this latest mess? Would they still support me? Or would they finally give up on me, convinced that I was a lost cause? And then there was Duke. My scholarship, my future, my dream. All hanging by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. But none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was stopping Miguel and making sure Marco and his cousin were safe. The police arrived a few minutes later, two uniformed officers with stern faces. I told them everything, starting with the stolen earring and ending with the bodega fight and Miguel’s disappearance. I emphasized Marco’s fear and the urgency of the situation. The officers listened patiently, taking notes and asking questions. When I was finished, one of them turned to me. “And what about your community service, Mr. Feder?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. “You know you’re not supposed to be outside the youth center without permission.” I sighed. I knew this was coming. “I know,” I said. “I violated my community service. I left the center to help Marco.” “And why should we believe you?” the other officer asked, his eyes narrowed. “You have a history of… shall we say, questionable behavior.” I didn’t argue. I knew they had every reason to be skeptical. But I also knew that I was telling the truth. “It’s up to you,” I said. “But Miguel is dangerous. You need to find him before he hurts someone else.” The officers exchanged a look. I could see the doubt in their eyes, but also a flicker of something else… maybe respect? “Alright, Mr. Feder,” one of them said. “We’ll take it from here. We’ll investigate your claims and do everything we can to locate Mr. Lopez.” “Thank you,” I said, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you violated your community service,” the officer continued. “You’re going to have to come with us.” I nodded, resigned. “I understand.” The officers handcuffed me, the cold metal biting into my wrists. I turned to Marco, who was watching us with wide, fearful eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Marco,” I said, trying to reassure him. “Just stay safe. And tell the truth, no matter what.” The officers led me out of the bodega and into the back of the police car. As we drove away, I looked back at Marco, standing alone on the sidewalk. I was going back to jail. My life was spiraling out of control. But somehow, in that moment, I felt a sense of peace. I had done the right thing. I had protected Marco. I had tried to stop Miguel. Even if it meant sacrificing my own future. The police car sped through the streets of the Bronx, heading back towards the precinct. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for what was to come. The judge, the lawyers, the media… it was going to be a shitshow. But I couldn’t regret my decision. I had acted on instinct, driven by a desire to protect someone and bring a dangerous man to justice. Maybe that was what being a hero was all about. Not scoring game-winning shots or signing million-dollar contracts, but doing what was right, even when it came at a cost. Even if it meant losing everything. The car turned onto a familiar street, and I knew we were close to the precinct. My heart pounded in my chest. This was it. The end of the line. Or maybe… just maybe… a new beginning. The car pulled up to the curb, and the officers opened the door. I stepped out, the harsh glare of the streetlights blinding me. As they led me towards the entrance, I couldn’t help but wonder what awaited me inside. More questions, more accusations, more disappointment. But I was ready. I was ready to face the consequences of my actions. I was ready to do whatever it took to make things right. Even if it meant losing everything. The officers escorted me through the front doors and into the familiar chaos of the precinct. The booking process, the paperwork, the mugshots… I knew the drill. As they led me towards the holding cell, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking into a trap. A trap of my own making. But I had no choice. I had to face the music. I had to pay the price for my mistakes. The officers opened the door to the holding cell, and I stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing in the small, confined space. I was alone. Trapped. Defeated. But not broken. I would survive this. I would find a way to rebuild my life. I would find a way to make amends for my past actions. Even if it took me the rest of my life. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I was in jail again, facing an uncertain future. But I was also at peace, knowing that I had done the right thing. I had tried to protect someone. I had tried to stop a dangerous man. And that was all that mattered. The familiar chill of the holding cell settled around me. The cold metal of the bars, the hard concrete floor, the stale smell of disinfectant… it was all too familiar. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the noise and the memories. But it was no use. They were all there, swirling around in my head, taunting me, mocking me. Valeria, Miguel, Demitra, Duke, my family… they were all victims of my anger, my impulsiveness, my inability to control myself. I had let them all down. And now, I was paying the price. I sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands. I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I had a long road ahead of me. A road filled with obstacles, challenges, and setbacks. But I was determined to walk that road. I was determined to overcome my demons. I was determined to become a better person. Even if it meant losing everything. I sat there in the darkness, alone with my thoughts, until the first rays of dawn peeked through the small window. The light was faint, but it was enough to give me hope. A new day. A new beginning. A new chance to make things right. I stood up, stretching my stiff muscles. I was tired, exhausted, and emotionally drained. But I was also ready. Ready to face whatever came my way. Ready to fight for my future. Ready to prove that I was more than just a troubled basketball player. I was Jim Feder. And I wasn’t going to give up. Not now. Not ever. I walked over to the bars and stared out into the hallway. The precinct was slowly coming to life, officers milling about, phones ringing, voices echoing. It was time to face the music. It was time to answer for my actions. It was time to start rebuilding my life. I took another deep breath and waited for the door to open. The door clicked open, and a female officer, with short brown hair. “Feder,” she said, her voice professional, but lacking any hostility. “Let’s go.” I followed her out of the holding cell and into the bustling precinct. As we walked, I noticed a familiar face in the crowd. Ms. Hanover, standing near the front desk, her expression unreadable. She saw me and nodded curtly. I knew she wasn’t happy, but I also knew she wouldn’t give up on me. She was there to help. To guide me through this latest mess. To try to salvage what was left of my future. I was grateful for her support, but I also knew that ultimately, it was up to me. I had to take responsibility for my actions. I had to prove that I was worthy of a second chance. The officer led me to a small interview room and told me to sit down. I obeyed, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew what was coming. More questions, more accusations, more judgment. But I was ready. I was ready to tell the truth. I was ready to accept the consequences. The officer sat down across from me, her eyes fixed on my face. She opened a file and began to read. “James Feder,” she said, her voice formal. “You are being charged with violating the terms of your community service, as well as…