The semifinal gym was louder than any gym Leo had ever been in.
Not the cathedral from the state tournament. This was a high school gym, smaller, more intimate, with bleachers that shook when the crowd stomped. The opposing team's fans were packed on one side, their faces painted, their voices hoarse. Westbrook's fans were on the other side, outnumbered but louder.
Their opponent was the second seed—a team from the south that had knocked off the third seed in a five-set thriller. They were fast. Physical. Experienced. Their setter was a senior who'd already signed with a Division One program. Their opposite hitter was six-six and left-handed. Their libero was the fastest Leo had ever seen.
And they had a full roster. No injuries. No suspensions. No excuses.
Leo stood at the edge of the
