Intro: This is my first fanfic in at least a year, so go easy on me. And the beginning may seem a tad dry, but trust me, it gets better. ;) Anyways, hope you like. My artwork regarding the story and other fan art can be found on my DeviantART page under the same screenname, if anyone's interested. If you find any errors in grammar or spelling, let me know so I can fix them. Also, I write short chapters, it's just easier for me to keep track of events in the story.

Rated PG for slight violence and racist views. Views expressed do not necessarily reflect my personal opinions.

Anyways, enjoy.

Prologue

Once upon a time, most likely a long time ago, a child wished desperately for a friend. That child may have been sad, lonely, afraid or neglected....Whatever the reason, the child thought one up himself, and as if by magic, the friend conjured itself beside him and he was lonely no more.

For years to come, lonely children found comfort in these "imaginary friends", big or small, cute or scary. Yet as they grew older, they became increasingly independent, and many found that they no longer desired their imaginary friend. Thus these children gave them up to move on in their lives.

Jim was a lonely child.

Chapter One

Jim loved basketball. He loved playing it, he loved watching the games, he loved just thinking about it; especially his favorite player, Wilt Chamberlain. As he pedaled his brand new bike down the sidewalk (his parents had just bought it for him after the move to replace his old red tricycle) he neared the park and paused, glancing longingly toward the basketball court. It wasn't anything fancy; in fact, it was rather worn and run-down, located behind a tall wire fence and nestled against a building that sported some indecipherable lettering on the side. There were only two hoops and three boys were playing both sides of the court with a partially deflated ball. Jim sighed and lifted his foot back to the pedal again, starting off towards home. He remembered what had happened last time. Why had his mom made them move to this white neighborhood? It just wasn't fair...he missed their old apartment complex, even if it was cramped and chaotic. At least the boys at the old basketball court would let him play. Here they just stuck their noses in the air and jeered. They called him names he hadn't heard, yet he knew they must be bad...but his mom continued to tell him not to fret. "They just haven't had the chance to get to know you yet," she had told him time and again. "Things will look up – just takes time, honey." But Jim doubted her words, he doubted them very much.

Jim hadn't had any luck outside his neighborhood either. His new school was much bigger and newer than his old one, but the students treated him the same as his neighbors did. Even his teachers seemed to be staring as if he might commit some atrocious crime in their classroom, and their constant observance made him feel terribly uncomfortable. So Jim would look down at his desk to avoid their burning eyes and think about basketball, and the way things used to be.

After a particularly bad day, Jim dragged himself home and up to his room. He tossed his knapsack to the side and flopped down on the floor beside his bed angrily, staring around at the four empty walls and the boxes he had still left unpacked. He sighed and opened his bag, taking out his notebook from history class. He flipped through the pages and sprawled out on his stomach, propping his chin up on one hand, until he came across the drawing he'd made earlier that day. He looked down at it glumly, and the strange creature looked back from the pages. It was very tall and appeared furry, with a big grin and a "1" on its chest. Its eyes were mounted on eyestalks and it had long, slender legs and arms. The only things it wore were large black basketball shoes, tall gym socks, and a wristband on each wrist. The name "Wilt" had been scrawled beneath it in messy elementary handwriting. Jim shuffled through his bag until he found his box of crayons. He picked up the red one and started to color the image. When he finished he held the notebook out in front of himself to scrutinize it, and then laid it back down on the floor. He sighed again and rolled onto his back, staring up at the white ceiling. He wished he had a real friend, one who didn't care where he came from or what he looked like, one that would be like his old friends, who would let him play basketball at the park. He wished he had someone to help him and his mother out around the house. It was so hard without Dad around anymore. Jim glanced back at the drawing with a frown and closed his eyes. I wish he was real.

A bright flash of light burst into the room and Jim shot upright in surprise. Before him stood his creation, a bit bent over after clumsily hitting his head on the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. He was rubbing the back of his head a bit dizzily. Looking down at Jim, he smiled warmly. "Hey Jim."

Jim had scooted back against the wall instinctively and was now staring up in awe, speechless. Wilt cocked his head to the side and tried again. "Hey Jim, it's me, Wilt. You created me, remember? You don't have to be scared."

Jim wasn't scared, he was just unable to speak. He had heard about these "imaginary friends" before, but he'd never seen one for himself, let alone created one from his own imagination. As Jim tried to pull himself together, Wilt looked around at his new surroundings and then back to his creator. "Is it okay if I sit down?"

Jim nodded, obviously still dazed. Wilt attempted to seat himself on the floor near Jim, but he accidentally bumped the nightstand, grabbing a picture frame just as it fell, preventing it from shattering on the floor. He glanced back at Jim apprehensively. "Oops, sorry about that!" Jim managed to smile.

"So...you like basketball?" Wilt asked, attempting to start a conversation with his quiet companion. Jim nodded and grinned. "Yeah, I used to play all the time back home. There's a court down at the park but – "

"Jim!" called a feminine voice from down the stairs. Jim winced and looked at Wilt uneasily. "Jim, it's time for dinner! Is all your homework done? And what's all that noise up there?"

Jim winced again. He'd forgotten all about his homework, and now he had to hide his new friend. "That's my mom! Wilt, we can't let her see you!" he whispered anxiously.

Wilt was now standing in the doorway, curiously peering down the stairway with a smile. Jim scurried out of the room through Wilt's tall legs and started to push his nosey friend back inside. "Why not?" Wilt questioned, giving in to Jim's shoves by walking back into the room. He continued to smile down at Jim, who was in a fit of worry.

"Hide now, questions later," Jim replied bluntly as he shoveled out a spot in his closet and pushed Wilt into it. He slid the closet door shut with a slam and tossed his notebook under the bed, then scrambled to his feet to find his mother standing in the doorway, her hands placed firmly on her hips. She was a fairly short woman and a little plump, with frizzy black hair that made her head look larger than it was. "Jiminy Higgins, what in the world is going on up here?"

"Erm, nothing?" Jim tried, but as soon as the words escaped his mouth, he knew his mother would be prying him for a real answer.

"Well nothing sure sounded like something to me," she said sternly, looking about the room tentatively. "I thought I heard an elephant herd go through here a second ago." Jim forced a smile and faked a muffled laugh, attempting to appear innocent. It obviously wasn't working.

In the closet Wilt was struggling to stay quiet while standing on a heaping pile of gym clothes, and he wasn't succeeding. Trying to catch his balance, he knocked his head against the ceiling again with a thump. Jim winced once more, and his mother turned to the closet. "Jim, you didn't bring home another pet again, did you? You remember what happened the last time when that squirrel got loose...."

Recalling that incident made it difficult for Jim to keep a straight face but as his mom started towards the closet door he became very nervous again, trying to distract her with something, anything. "Wait, mom, don't open that – "

It was too late. Wilt leaned against the door, rubbing his aching head and hoping he hadn't roused any attention, when the door slid open and he fell over backwards and landed at their feet. "Eheh...hello, Mrs. Higgins."

Jim's mother looked at her son with a frown. "Jim, what is this?" Jim looked at the floor uncomfortably, trying to avoid her eyes. What would she do now? He didn't want to lose the only friend he'd been able to make....

"You created an imaginary friend and you weren't even going to invite him to dinner?" she asked. Jim looked up at her in surprise. Wilt just grinned.