Chapter 2 - THE LOCKER HALLWAY
The second tryout ended badly.
Not on the court.
In the hallway.
Noah had played well enough that even Tyler stopped laughing.
He hit three jumpers.
Stole a pass.
Took a charge from a kid twice his width.
Blake looked irritated.
That was the strange part.
A coach should want a player to improve.
Blake acted like Noah was ruining an argument.
After practice, Noah changed quickly.
Tyler blocked the locker-room exit.
“Where you going?”
“Home.”
Tyler shoved Noah’s gym bag with one foot.
It slid across the floor.
Noah walked around him.
Tyler shoved his shoulder.
Not hard enough to knock him down.
Enough.
Noah pushed back.
Blake appeared.
“What is this?”
Tyler instantly stepped away.
“Noah started it.”
Noah stared.
Blake grabbed the front of Noah’s jersey.
Fast.
Too fast.
Then slammed him back against the lockers.
Metal rattled.
Noah gasped.
Blake snarled:
“You’re too small. Too soft. Quit.”
Noah froze.
Blake leaned inches from his face.
“Complain, and you’ll never play here.”
Tyler laughed.
Noah’s eyes filled with angry tears.
Then a voice came from the hallway.
“Take your hands off my son.”
Blake released Noah.
Ethan stood twenty feet away.
Brown work jacket.
Jeans.
Face completely controlled.
That scared Blake more than shouting would have.
For one second, recognition flashed between them.
Then Blake covered it.
“You shouldn’t be in the athletic corridor.”
Ethan walked closer.
“My son texted me to pick him up.”
“He got emotional.”
Noah stared at Blake.
Ethan put Noah behind him.
“What did you do?”
Blake laughed.
“Your kid’s a loser.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
Tyler went silent.
Noah whispered:
“Dad.”
Ethan did not touch Blake.
Did not threaten him.
He said:
“Say it again.”
Blake smiled.
“Your son doesn’t belong on my team.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“Go home, Ethan.”
There.
First name.
Noah looked between them.
“You know each other?”
Neither answered immediately.
Then Blake said:
“Your father used to be exactly like you.”
Ethan’s face changed.
Noah felt cold.
Blake continued:
“Small. Sensitive. Always complaining.”
Ethan took one step forward.
“No.”
Blake smiled.
“You remember.”
Ethan said quietly:
“I remember everything.”
Then he turned to Noah.
“Get your bag.”
Tyler had kicked it farther down the hall.
Noah picked it up.
As they left, Blake called:
“Tryouts end tomorrow.”
Ethan stopped.
Blake added:
“Don’t waste your time.”
In the car, Noah said nothing for five minutes.
Then:
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“We played together.”
“Was he like this?”
Ethan stared through the windshield.
“Worse.”
Noah waited.
Then Ethan finally said:
“When I was fourteen, Blake was fifteen and already treated people like rankings.”
“What happened?”
Ethan shook his head.
“Not tonight.”
Noah looked away.
Then:
“I’m still going tomorrow.”
Ethan turned.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Blake had expected fear to do the cutting for him.
Noah would not give him that.
Before sunrise the next morning, Noah trained.
Stairs at the school stadium.
Form shooting at the outdoor court.
Sprint.
Miss.
Fall.
Get up.
Ethan watched silently.
Noah bent over, breathing hard.
“I’m not quitting.”
Ethan nodded.
“Good.”
Then, after a pause:
“But tomorrow isn’t just about making the team anymore.”
Noah looked at him.
May you like
Ethan held up his phone.
“I recorded part of what happened in that hallway.”
