The national tournament gym was the same cathedral it had always been—sixty-foot ceilings, blinding lights, the smell of floor wax and pressure. But to Leo, it felt different this time. Smaller. More intimate. Like the walls were closing in.
He sat on the bus, staring out the window at the stream of players and coaches streaming through the entrance. Crestmont was the fourth seed this year. Not the favorite. Not the underdog. Somewhere in the middle, where expectations were dangerous and upsets were possible.
Kai was asleep in the seat next to him, his head against the window, his mouth slightly open. Park was in the row behind, scrolling through his phone. Marcus was in the back, telling stories to the freshmen.
Leo's knee ached. The compression sleeve helped, but the four-hour bus rid
