Crossover and the Gymbrats: The Crystal Baller

By D. Calip

ROSSOVER and THE GYMBRATS takes readers on a fun and magical adventure with eleven-yr-old Crystal Baller, Devaryl P. Carroll aka “CROSSOVER” – a dreamer and a gifted kid with an amazingly fast cross over dribble on the basketball court and the power to make his dreams become reality. With the help of a red mysterious crystal with the number 9 inscribed in it, Crossover begins to explore new worlds and endless possibilities.

Taking his talents from the streets of Los Angeles to New York, Crossover attends Longfellow Middle School for the Highly Gifted, where he meets a mentor along with a crew of other gifted tweens with their own special gifts, called The Gymbrats, who help Crossover recognize his hidden gifts. But everyone isn’t so happy to see the new kid on the block, as he learns the streets of New York can rival any of the tougher streets across the country, and currently belong to Flint a ruthless tweenager.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jan 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483442693

Book preview

CROSSOVER

and

THE GYMBRATS

THE CRYSTAL BALLER

D. CALIP

Copyright © 2015 Demetrius A. Calip.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means---whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic---without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-4268-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-4269-3 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 4/1/2016

Contents

Chapter 1 The Dreamer

Chapter 2 Crossover Moves to NYC

Chapter 3 Midburbia

Chapter 4 Orientation

Chapter 5 The Gymbrats and their Gifts

Chapter Making Disciples

Chapter 7 Eyes on the Crystal

Chapter 8 Flint Revisits Longfellow

Chapter 9 Training Begins

Chapter 10 The Crystal Courts

Chapter 11 Tween of New York

Chapter 12 It is Finished

CHAPTER 1

The Dreamer

I never knew what being highly gifted meant, nor did I care. I only cared about my dreams. I dreamed a lot, but I didn't think that made me different, I always thought myself to be just a regular kid, except of course, I had skillz! For me, every morning was always the same. The early-morning sunlight would pry its way through my bedroom window, forcing me to pillow my head, reminding me of school. With sleepy eyes, I awoke, reluctantly sat on the side of my Ferrari bed, grabbed my ever-present basketball, and glanced over to my dresser. On it sat a shiny, tiny crystal ball that would always catch my eye. I always felt it staring at me. My mom once told me, Son, when you were born, a distinguished gentleman gave it to us. He said it was a dream crystal that enhanced special gifts of the gifted!

There it sat between my two trophies. The one on the left read, No. 1 Ranked 11-Year-Old Basketball Player in the Country, and the one on the right read, MVP of 11U AAU Basketball Championship. The crystal's red color shone brightly, highlighting the number nine in its middle. It made such and impression on me as a kid, that nine and red became my favorites. My dad even bought me a red basketball jersey with the number 9 on it and headband to match. I would stare at that crystal and dream.

Besides my parents, no one knew about the crystal. Everyone had secrets; this was mine.

Devaryl P. Carroll! Stop staring at that thang, and stop daydreaming! My mom's boisterous voice snapped me out of my trance as she barged into my room. Hurry up, boy, and get dressed so you can make up your bed and eat breakfast before school! On her way out, she turned back and caught me staring at the crystal again. Suddenly, I felt both of her hands on each side of my face and her eyes staring deep into mine. Your dad and I know you have a special gift, and we know there are other kids like you in this world---and we will find them. You just need to know that it's okay to dream, but you must learn to control your dreaming. She walked out.

Where I grew up, in South Central, Los Angeles, most kids didn't have dreams. Many dropped out of school and got caught up in gangs or drugs. Every day my classroom mysteriously shrank. Thirty-five of us started the fifth grade, but now there were only twenty-three of us. South Central streets claimed a lot of its youth, but I was determined to be its most elusive target.

My dream was to be a basketball star and make it out of the hood one day. I wanted to be the best basketball player on the planet, and at eleven, I was pretty good.

Devaryl P. Carroll's my name, but everyone calls me Crossover because of my wizardly skillz with the rock---especially the way I crossed fools over on the court.

My mom and dad thought that my daydreaming was a gift, but I didn't have some far-fetched belief in magic or anything like that. I put in work to make my dreams come true, and to me basketball was my only gift.

If there was anything I believed, it was that I was put on this earth to play basketball. I certainly didn't think dreaming was a gift, and neither did my fifth-grade teachers, who made sure to let my mom know.

To them, my daydreaming was becoming uncontrollable, especially in class. Those long soliloquies that my teachers called lectures were the worst. During them, I would drift off so deeply that I would feel as if I was physically transported into my daydream. The experience would be imbued with total sensory stimulation. I could see it, smell it, and hear it. I wouldn't know how long I would be out for. Some even told me my eyes would change colors when I drifted into a daydream. This angered my teachers to no end, and they told my mom that the only way to get my attention was yelling at me two or three times---this was the only thing that would bring me back. When I arrived home and walked through the door with my basketball, Mom's voice would greet me.

Devaryl P. Carroll, your teachers called, saying you were daydreaming in class again! I'm going to take that basketball away if you don't get it together!

Yes, ma'am, I would say, quickly dropping off my book bag and running back out the door with my ball.

Down the street from my house was King Park Gym. I spent most of my time there practicing. Often I would see a lot of my former classmates hanging with gangs or selling drugs. But they all knew me and knew I was only interested in playing ball. I would practice and daydream about the NBA, knowing it would take me away from all that I saw on the streets.

The best ball players come from New York, I would hear on TV. I didn't like hearing that at all, and I wanted to show the world that I could be the best baller on the planet---and I was from LA.

I didn't have many friends because I was alone most of the time, working on my game and dreaming. I didn't only dream about the NBA. In my dreams I could go to different worlds or dimensions, even battle aliens on different planets. I dreamed that my family and I lived like kings and lived in a palace with a chauffeured limousine. I could be anywhere, anyone, or anything, but mostly I dreamed about being in the NBA. My basketball, Swish, was my best friend, and everywhere I went, I took him with me, including my dreams.

The other thing about my ability to dream---or whatever was going on in my head---was that in school, I never had to study much because I remembered everything I ever read. My doctor said I had an eidetic memory, whatever that was.

All I know is that without it, I don't know how I would've ever made it out of the fifth grade---but I did.

Now that the torture of fifth grade had ended and it was summer time, I didn't have to wait till after school anymore; I could stay at the gym all day working on my game. I wanted to be prepared for middle school after the summer. The Internet was already buzzing, and people were already ranking me to be the best baller in middle school.

When I was nine years old, everyone made fun of my red headband and red number 9 jersey. But now that my game was tight, it became part of my identity, my trademark per se. Back then, I played on the small court with others my age, while the big kids played on the big court. When the big kids didn't have a ball to play with, J-Bo, the neighborhood nemesis, would come over and take our ball and make us watch them play. No one ever messed with J-Bo, so we usually gave him the ball. But not that day!

J-Bo came over to our court. Give up the ball, you little pipsqueaks! That's when I grabbed the ball, stepped up, and looked up at J-Bo.

No, this is our ball, and we ain't giving it up! At that moment I felt every eye in the gym on me, and everything moved in slow-motion. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the other kids my age with mouths and eyes wide open. I didn't really know what I was doing. Something just came over me. I screamed at him, We came here to play, not watch! I stood there, boldly staring at the grimace on J-Bo's face. My heart sank, and my palms began to sweat. I closed my eyes and dreamed that there was another ball in the gym, and when I opened my eyes, I heard voices saying, Look at his eyes, they just turned a glowing grey! I didn't know that the color of my eyes had changed, but I glared and grimaced right back at J-Bo. I told