The first match had begun. The ball slammed against the polished wooden court, each bounce echoing through the gym like a drum. Sneakers squeaked, the crowd cheered, and the players moved like lightning across the floor.
From the benches, Mario's eyes nearly popped out.
"U re μαλακά," he muttered in disbelief. "They ran like horses."
"What did you expect, man?" Lazagna laughed, folding his arms. "Most of these guys already train in academies. This is just foreplay for them."
Mario groaned. "I see…" He leaned toward George, lowering his voice. "Dude, I think we messed up."
George turned to him, face dead serious. "You think? So you're not sure?"
Mario whispered urgently, "Listen. If the last team we face is trash, we can surprise the teachers. Easy."
Marcus, sitting a few seats down, cut in flatly. "The team we're facing is literally the five best in the school."
"WHAT!?!" Mario half-shouted, catching some dirty looks from the bench in front of them. "Da fuck you mean? Where did you see that?"
"Mr. Vallas pinned the matchups on the office wall," Marcus said casually, like it was nothing.
Mario slapped his forehead. "Damn! We're unlucky, man. This is a conspiracy from the other schools, I swear."
The others stared at him blankly.
"Conspiracy?" Lazagna raised a brow.
"Yes!" Mario announced, pounding his chest. "They know I'm the best here. They also know if I play for our school, we win the whole tournament."
"You ain't him, broski," George said without even looking away from the game.
Mario shot him a glare. "Just wait. If I play for the team, I'll turn into prime La Bron Jamie."
George snorted. "On a sport where you only need one hand, maybe. In basketball? Nah."
"You're just jealous, man. Admit it."
George side-eyed him. "Only because you're Black doesn't mean you're good at basket."
Mario's head whipped around. "DUDE, WHAT?! I'm literally whiter than you!"
"You wish—" George started, but Lazagna raised his hands.
"Guys, forget it. We need to focus on tactics. Otherwise, forget the dream of winning. We won't even make the team."
"You're right," Marcus agreed.
"Ok then. Who votes me as manager? Raise your hands." Mario raised his own hand and waited.
Nobody else did.
"I think the best choice is Lazagna," Marcus said diplomatically. "He actually knows tactics."
George nodded. "Yeah, agreed."
"I am honored, my brothers," Lazagna said with a bow.
"Hall nah," Mario muttered, crossing his arms.
The match ended soon after, Team 1 beating Team 2, 53–39. The crowd cheered and clapped, the energy in the gym bouncing higher than the ball itself.
Mr. Rose strolled over to the boys' bench. "Just so you know," he said, "I'll be playing with you in the last game."
"Amazing," Mario sighed in relief. "Now our chances of winning increased."
"Realistically speaking, whichever teacher joined would increase our chances," Lazagna pointed out.
"True, but you know what I mean." Mario stood up. "Anyways, I gotta hit the restroom."
"Good call. I'll come too," Lazagna said, following him.
Mario gave him a side-eye. "…Dude."
"What?" Lazagna asked innocently, patting him on the back.
"IT'S GAAYY!" Mario hissed.
"Hmmm. That's just propaganda so men don't show affection to each other," Lazagna replied without missing a beat.
"Enjoy your ride," Marcus teased.
"We sure will," Lazagna shot back, laughing as they left.
Mario shook his head. "Hell nah."
Now it was just Marcus and George left on the bench. The game roared on in front of them—squeaking shoes, shouts echoing, the crowd clapping in rhythm after every basket.
"We've got some strong players this year," Marcus said. "We might actually win the championship."
George shrugged. "I guess. Not that it matters to me."
Marcus frowned. "Come on, man. Why aren't you hyped? It's like you don't even wanna play."
George stared at the court in silence. A ball slammed into the backboard with a loud BANG, filling the pause.
"It's not that…" he said finally. "I just know I won't be on the final team."
"With that attitude? Definitely not," Marcus said. "You used to love basketball. What happened?"
George's lips curved into a humorless smile. "People get bored, man. Happens with sports, games, pets… even people. You do something long enough and the spark dies."
The crowd erupted as someone sank a three-pointer.
Marcus turned to him. "That last part… aimed at someone?"
George smirked faintly. "Even if it was, would that change anything?"
"…Guess not," Marcus admitted.
"Then don't sweat it," George said, eyes glued to the scoreboard. "I'm not mad. Stuff changes. We move with it."
Marcus leaned back, sighing. "Such a shame, though. You were good back then."
George shook his head. "I was average. Everyone else was just worse, so I looked good."
Marcus chuckled. "Nah, you were as good as me. Mario was right behind. I'm just surprised both of you gave up."
George shrugged. "Like I said—people change."
For a moment, the only sounds were the bouncing ball and the roar of the crowd.
Then Lazagna and Mario returned, laughing about something.
"Sup guys, missed us?" Lazagna grinned.
"No," Mario answered instantly.
George smirked. "Love how you answered the question for us."
"What took you so long?" Marcus teased. "Too much work in the bathroom?"
All three laughed.
Mario, however, kept a straight face. "Hell nah."
"Did you come up with tactics while you were… busy?" George asked slyly.
"Yep," Lazagna said proudly. "Gather around, boys."
"Why?" George asked, suspicious.
"Because if we huddle, our aura increases."
Mario nodded seriously. "He's got a point."
They gathered in a small circle.
"Ok, listen up. I'll be point guard. Mario, small forward. George, power forward. Marcus, shooting guard. Mr. Rose will be center—obvious reasons."
They nodded.
"We'll mark whoever plays our same position. Simple, but effective. Might not guarantee a win, but we'll give them a fight. Thoughts?"
George shrugged. "Yeah, it's solid."
"Very well, gentlemen," Lazagna said. "We're ready for the win."
The second match wrapped up: Team 4 beat Team 3 in a nail-biter, 66–65. The crowd was electric, cheering louder than before.
Mr. Vallas stepped into the center of the court, raising his arms.
"Alright boys, gather up! It's time for the final game!"
The gym buzzed with excitement. Their turn had come.