ADRIAN School ended, and I headed toward the gym for practice. Backpack slung over one shoulder, steps steady. Semi-finals were coming, but right now, it was all about drills, teamwork, and staying sharp. The gym was alive—the squeak of sneakers on hardwood, balls bouncing, teammates calling instructions, the faint smell of sweat and polish on the court. I dropped my backpack, pulled off my hoodie, and folded it neatly. Then I jogged to join the warm-ups. Stretching, light jogging, passing. Everyone was moving, talking, adjusting positions. The energy was contagious, each player feeding off the other, correcting mistakes, laughing quietly when someone stumbled. Coach spotted me immediately. “You’re late, Adrian.” “I had things to do,” I said evenly. He ran a hand over his face. “Fine… I hope it was something about your history grades. Because boy, I will have to bench you if you keep failing.” “I’m working on it,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Good. You’re the best we’
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