Dante’s POV
By the time I reach the locker room, my head’s already pounding.
The air smells like sweat, turf, and the faint trace of detergent that never really covers it. A few of the guys are still half-dressed from morning drills. Most of them go quiet when I walk in.
“Yo, Moretti,” one of the freshmen says with a forced laugh. “You trending, man. Should probably sign my glove before the price goes up.”
A few others laugh too, uneasy. I manage a half-smile. “I’ll start charging tomorrow.”
Coach isn’t in yet, but his clipboard’s on the bench. Everyone’s pretending to stretch, to get ready, but I can feel the stares — curiosity mixed with fear.
Eli tosses me a ball from across the room. “You good?”
“Define good.”
“Not throwing up or breaking stuff.”
“Then yeah. I’m good.”
He nod
