The Overnight Prodigy

Chapter 19: Tryouts

Tryout day arrived with a specific kind of dread that Ethan hadn't felt since the days before his transformation, when tests had loomed over him with the same low, persistent hum of certain failure. This felt different in shape but familiar in intensity six weeks of training standing between him and a room full of people who'd trained for years, all of it about to be tested in a single afternoon.

Coach Nguyen ran the tryouts with a format that felt almost clinically fair: a series of standardized drills scored for technique, followed by a round-robin of sparring matches against a rotating set of opponents, the results tallied on a clipboard that Coach Nguyen guarded with the seriousness of a man protecting state secrets.

Ethan's drill scores came back solid but unspectacular his stances had improved dramatically since day one, but six weeks wasn't enough to fully erase the small technical gaps that separated him from kids who'd been doing this since childhood. He watched Marcus run through the same drills with an effortless precision that made Ethan's own performance look, by direct comparison, like a rough draft of something Marcus had already perfected years ago.

The sparring rounds told a different story.

His first match was against Anthony again, and this time Ethan won clearly the accumulated repetitions of six weeks finally outpacing the sophomore's slightly-more-experienced-but-not-especially-gifted technique, the hip throw landing clean twice, a redirect he'd been practicing since the loss to Isabella finding its mark for the first time under real pressure.

His second match was harder a junior named Wesley who fought with an aggressive, unpredictable style that kept Ethan off balance for most of the exchange, ending in a narrow loss that still drew a nod of approval from Coach Nguyen watching from the sideline.

His third match was against Priya, who fought a careful, technical game that Ethan found himself genuinely enjoying trying to solve, the two of them trading exchanges for a full three minutes before Ethan managed to close it out with a throw he was fairly sure Priya let him have out of mutual respect rather than any lapse on her part.

By the time the round-robin wrapped up, Ethan had gone three wins, two losses, a record that put him solidly in the middle of the pack rather than at the top, but nowhere near the bottom either a real, earned result rather than the fluke everyone had initially assumed his gym-class throw represented.

Marcus, unsurprisingly, went undefeated, dispatching every opponent with the same clean efficiency Ethan had watched him bring to the match against Diego weeks earlier.

They ended up matched against each other in the final round, an unplanned pairing that Coach Nguyen seemed to arrange deliberately, watching with clipboard in hand as Ethan and Marcus faced off for the first time since Marcus's flat dismissal on day one.

"Let's see what six weeks bought you," Marcus said, settling into his stance, not unkindly, more like a genuine question he was curious to have answered.

Ethan didn't have a good comeback, so he just nodded and set his own stance, heart going harder than it had for any of his previous matches that day.

Marcus opened with a combination that Ethan recognized, in the abstract, from having watched him spar for six weeks the same setup he'd used against Diego, the same subtle shift of weight that preceded the redirect. Understanding the shape of it in advance bought Ethan exactly enough time to avoid the worst of it, sidestepping instead of meeting it head-on, though Marcus adjusted mid-technique with a fluidity that made clear he'd anticipated Ethan's read and had a second option already loaded.

The exchange that followed was the longest, most technical few seconds of Ethan's short sparring career Marcus pressing an advantage, Ethan defending and looking for an opening, both of them moving faster than either had against any other opponent that day. It ended with Marcus landing a clean strike that would have counted decisively in a real match, Ethan's counter a half-second too late to change the outcome.

"Good enough," Coach Nguyen called, ending the match. "Nice work, both of you."

Marcus offered a hand up, the same courtesy Ethan had watched him extend to Diego weeks earlier, and something in the gesture felt different from the flat dismissal of their first conversation not warmth exactly, but a recalibration, an acknowledgment that the six weeks had bought Ethan something real.

"You've gotten better," Marcus said. "Faster than you should have, honestly. I don't know what you're doing, but keep doing it."

"Thanks," Ethan said, and meant it more than the brief exchange probably called for, something loosening in his chest that had been tight since Marcus's first assessment weeks ago.

Coach Nguyen posted the final team list the next morning, six names for the main roster and two for alternates, a piece of paper that half the club had apparently been checking the corkboard for every twenty minutes since dawn according to the crowd already gathered by the time Ethan arrived.

He pushed through the group, scanned the list twice to make sure he wasn't imagining it, and found his own name sitting fifth on the roster, below Marcus and three others, above Priya, who'd made the alternate list with a resigned but genuinely pleased expression when Ethan found her a moment later.

"Fifth," she said, reading over his shoulder. "Not bad for a guy who signed up six weeks ago because his best friend dared him to."

"He didn't dare me, exactly."

"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night." She grinned, clapping him on the shoulder, genuine warmth in it despite her own disappointment about the alternate spot. "Congratulations, wildcard. Go win us the Cup."

He found Jason waiting outside the gym doors, having apparently skipped the first ten minutes of his own homeroom just to hear the result in person, and the sheer, unguarded joy on his best friend's face when Ethan told him made the whole nervous morning feel worth it in a way the roster spot alone hadn't quite managed.

"Fifth!" Jason practically shouted, loud enough that a passing group of freshmen turned to look. "You made fifth! Do you understand what this means? I get to watch you compete in an actual tournament. I'm buying a poster board tonight. I don't care if they confiscate the air horn, I'm bringing a backup air horn."

"You don't need to do any of that."

"I absolutely need to do all of that. This is the single coolest thing that has ever happened to anyone I know personally, and I include myself in that category, and I once won a hot dog eating contest at the county fair." Jason threw an arm around his shoulder, steering them both toward homeroom at a pace considerably more triumphant than the tardy bell really called for. "Six weeks, Chen. Let's see what you've got."

Ethan let himself enjoy it, walking into homeroom late and getting a look from Mr. Harris that he waved off with a mumbled excuse, the tournament roster spot sitting in his chest like something solid now instead of just an abstract hope. Whatever came next Big Marcus's resentment, the six weeks of training still ahead of him, the growing list of people quietly circling the truth he still hadn't told anyone none of it felt quite as heavy as it might have, not on a morning like this one.