Some days felt so ordinary that I forgot my life could change with a single conversation.
The Tuesday afternoon buzz inside the campus dining hall was typical—loud, chaotic, and entirely overwhelming. The air smelled of greasy fries, industrial dish soap, and the damp wool of hundreds of rain-soaked student jackets. I stared down at my plastic tray, shifting a salad around with my fork, while the lively chatter of the Maplewood athletic circle swirled completely over my head.
"I'm telling you, the defensive line metrics are completely skewed," Liam argued, gesturing aggressively with a slice of pizza. He was sitting directly across from me, his varsity jacket thrown over the back of the chair. "If the scouts from the Bruins are tracking our zone exits, we need to tighten the gap. Right,
