Chapter 04

Chapter 04

Whispers on Campus

The next morning, Kobby woke up feeling like he had been hit by a moving truck. Every muscle in his body screamed. His calves hammered, his shoulders felt like bricks, and even his fingers were sore.

He groaned as he sat up on his bed. “Ei… The Phantom wants to kill me.”

But beneath the pain was something new—something warm and electric.

Hope.
Pride.
Purpose.

For the first time since arriving on campus, Kobby didn’t dread the day ahead.

He showered quickly, dressed, and limped off to class. But he hadn’t even crossed the hall courtyard before the whispers began.

“Is that the guy who tried to join the basketball team?”
“The fat one?”
“Yeah, chale! Coach embarrassed him kraa.”
“I heard he almost cried.”

Kobby clenched his jaw but kept walking.

A group of boys from his economics lecture passed by, laughing loudly. One of them—a tall guy with a pointed chin—nudged his friend and called out:

“Boss, the court is that way ooo! But don’t go and break it again!”

The group burst into laughter.

Kobby forced a smile he didn’t feel and continued walking. He could handle the jokes. He’d been handling them all his life. But now, something inside him felt different—like a lion pacing behind the bars of his ribs, waiting for the moment to roar.

During lecture, he struggled to focus again. His mind kept drifting to the court. The energy. The gift. The Phantom’s voice telling him he could become something greater.

After classes, he headed to the cafeteria for the first time since the humiliating tryout. He grabbed a plate of jollof and chicken, trying to ignore the curious stares.

But trouble found him anyway.

Kwame “Stone” Asare—the muscular player who mocked him on the court days ago—appeared behind him with a tray and a smirk.

“Ei, look who’s eating again,” Stone said loudly, sitting at the next table with his teammates. “No wonder the coach couldn’t even let you try out.”

Kobby exhaled slowly. For the first time, he felt like saying something to the guy. “Stone, I’m not in the mood.”

Stone grinned. “Why? We’re all friends here. But real talk—why do big guys like you always think you can play? You have to be realistic sometimes.”

His tablemates nodded, snickering— laughing undertone.

Kobby’s fork tightened in his hand… but he said nothing.

“Anyway,” Stone continued, leaning back, “we’ll be having open scrimmage on Friday. But don’t come, okay? We don’t want the court collapsing on us.”

More laughter.

Kobby felt heat crawl up his neck, but he forced himself to take a slow breath. He remembered the Phantom’s voice.

The world wants you to break. Don’t give it the satisfaction.

He stood, picked up his tray, and walked away.

From behind, he heard Stone whisper mockingly, “You see? He knows.”

But Kobby didn’t turn.

He didn’t need to.

Because he knew the truth: everything was about to change.

That evening, the abandoned court looked different to him now—like a secret sanctuary no one else in the world knew existed. The Phantom stood waiting, bouncing a ball lazily.

“You look angry,” the Phantom observed.

Kobby dropped his bag at the edge of the court. “People on campus… they talk too much.”

The Phantom nodded. “Good. Use it.”

Kobby blinked. “Use it?”

“Pain is fuel. Doubt is fuel. Mockery is fuel. Every insult they give you is gasoline for your fire.” He pointed a finger sharply. “But never let it poison you. Rage burns, but bitterness corrodes.”

Kobby breathed deeply. “I’ll try.”

“No,” the Phantom corrected. “You will do.”

Then training began.

Tonight was different. Much harder. Much faster.

The Phantom introduced new drills:

Lightning-speed defensive slides

Complex dribble combinations

Ball-control patterns so quick Kobby’s arms blurred

Shooting drills from impossible angles

Layup sequences done under strict time limits

And footwork exercises that made his legs shake like jelly

Every time Kobby thought he hit his limit, the Phantom pushed him past it.

“Again!”
“Keep your head up!”
“Stay low!”
“Your body is stronger than your mind believes!”
“Don’t give up!”

Kobby slipped. Fell. Gashed his knee. Missed shots. Got dizzy. Felt like collapsing.

But every time he dropped, he got back up.

By the end of the session, he was drenched in sweat, barely able to stand.

The Phantom tossed him a bottle of water. “Good.”

Kobby drank greedily. “Coach Selorm will never take me seriously,” he muttered.

The Phantom paused. Then smirked. “Oh, he will. Sooner than you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Word travels fast on a campus. When a player suddenly appears with talent far above what they knew… the world starts watching.”

Kobby blinked. “But I haven’t shown anything yet.”

“You will,” the Phantom said. “Friday. The scrimmage.”

Kobby’s heart jumped. “But Stone said I shouldn’t come—”

“And that is precisely why you must go.”

The Phantom’s eyes glowed with a fierce challenge.

“On Friday, Kobby Mensah, you walk onto that court. And when the game starts, you will show them exactly who you are.”

Kobby felt a shiver of nervous excitement run through him.

“But remember,” the Phantom warned, voice low and intense, “the gift will respond to your confidence—but it will also expose your fear.”

Kobby nodded slowly.

Friday suddenly felt like judgment day.

The Phantom stepped back into the shadows. “Rest,” he said. “Because in three days, the campus will witness the rise of the Big Black Baller.”

And then he vanished once again.

Kobby stayed on the court for a long while, staring at the rim, feeling the energy humming beneath his skin.

Friday would change everything.

For better…

…or for worse.