The first serve of the match hit Javier square in the chest, and the gym went silent.
He stumbled back, the ball rolling to the floor, his teammates staring. The opposing team's server—a senior with a shaved head and a sneer—was already walking back to his position, his job done. He'd aimed at Javier. Deliberately. Maliciously. And Javier had frozen.
Leo stood up from the bench, his knee screaming, his heart pounding. He looked at the referee. No call. The serve was legal. The ball had crossed the net cleanly. Javier just hadn't moved.
“Timeout,” Leo called.
The team gathered around him. Javier stood apart, his face pale, his hands shaking.
“Javier,” Leo said.
“I couldn't move, Coach. I saw the ball coming and I couldn't move.”
Leo knelt down. “Look at me.”
Javier looked up.
“That
