The conference final was being played in the same gym where Leo had won his first state championship as a player. The lights were the same. The floor was the same. The banners on the walls were different—newer, more of them—but the ghost of his seventeen-year-old self still lingered in the corners.
Leo stood at the edge of the court, his arms crossed, his knee throbbing, his heart pounding. Westbrook versus Central Catholic. The same private school that had been their rival for decades. The same blue and white jerseys. The same entitled swagger.
Derek was warming up on the court, his face set, his shoulders square. He wasn't bouncing anymore. He wasn't nervous. He was ready.
Kai was setting to the hitters, his rhythm smooth, his eyes sharp. Marcus was in the back row, digging everything
