The other students watched as a tall, dark-skinned boy—around 6'4"—strode down from the bleachers to confront Tyler and his friend. He took off his jacket, revealing a lean, muscular frame, his toned abs visible beneath the shirt. Eight well-defined packets carved across his stomach, evidence of hard work and discipline.
From across the gym, some girls cheered softly, but the boys didn't flinch. They stopped playing, forgetting the ongoing game, their focus locked on the newcomer.
Everyone waited, breath held, to see if the new kid could really go toe-to-toe with the Spartans.
"I can give you guys a minute to rest," Aiden said, his voice calm but confident. "'Cause this won't take long."
Tyler scoffed, "Yeah, you won't get past me. I'm too fast, buddy."
Aiden nodded, stepping to the top of the key. He started dribbling, moving the ball slowly to the half-court line, baiting them to get ready. They exchanged determined looks, sizing him up.
"So, we play one-on-one or two-on-two?" Aiden asked, trying to figure out the rules.
"One-on-one," Mike said.
"Full court or half?" Aiden pressed.
"Half," Ben answered.
"First to five or ten?" Aiden asked.
"Like you said, this'll be short. Five," Tyler said, the overconfidence practically radiating off him.
"Okay, I got the ball. You ready?" Aiden asked, waiting for their nods.
They all agreed. Aiden smirked, spinning the ball in his hands, then looked up at them, all standing close to the basket.
"What you smiling at, punk?" Ben barked.
Annoyed but still smiling, Aiden shot back, "You punks left me way too much room."
Without hesitation, he jumped and launched a shot from almost half-court. The ball sailed in a perfect arc, swishing cleanly through the net.
Two points.
The gym fell silent. Everyone stared, stunned. Even Mike, Tyler, and Ben exchanged looks of disbelief.
"That's two. Halfway there," Aiden said, sliding into defense.
Ben's teammate passed him the ball, and the game resumed.
Ben passed to Mike on the left side. Mike looked like he was about to shoot but switched to a layup instead.
The ball hit the backboard, almost dropping in, but a dark blur dashed in—Aiden—smacking it away to the three-point line. Ben lunged after it but missed.
Aiden grabbed the loose ball as Ben recovered quickly and moved to defend.
Aiden stood at the top of the key, ball in hand, eyes scanning the court as the three boys spread out before him like predators sizing up prey. Tyler planted his feet firmly in a defensive stance, knees bent, ready to spring. Mike positioned himself slightly to the left, hands hovering low, eyes locked on Aiden's dribble. Ben hovered closer to the basket, arms out, prepared to block any drive.
Aiden's dribble was smooth and controlled, the ball bouncing rhythmically off the polished hardwood. He shuffled slightly left, then right, testing their reactions. Tyler's eyes narrowed, shifting his weight forward as if preparing to pounce.
With a sudden burst, Aiden faked a drive to the right—his left foot pushed off hard, and his body leaned into the movement. Tyler lunged forward, attempting to cut him off, but Aiden pulled the ball back between his legs with a sharp flick of his wrists, changing direction.
Mike seized the moment to slide in for a steal, stepping quickly with precise footwork, toes skimming the floor. Aiden anticipated this, spinning low to his left, his right hand guiding the ball behind his back. The ball slipped through Mike's outstretched fingers as Aiden accelerated past him.
Ben tried to recover, pivoting on his left foot, arms raised to block Aiden's path to the hoop. Aiden, barely breaking stride, exploded forward, his legs pumping powerfully as he closed the gap.
At the basket, Aiden jumped—muscles coiling like a spring. The ball left his right hand, arcing toward the backboard with a practiced flick. As the ball bounced off, Aiden reached up, grabbing it mid-air. His body twisted, ball moving behind his back and through his legs in a fluid motion. With a final burst of strength, he slammed the ball through the hoop with one hand.
The gym held its breath.
Tyler and Mike stumbled slightly, caught off-guard by Aiden's speed and skill. Ben's jaw clenched as he watched the move unfold, respect mixed with frustration.
The coach blew his whistle, signaling the gym to quiet down.
"Alright, class is over! Everyone, hit the showers!" he commanded, pointing toward the locker rooms.
The students began filing out, heading for their next class.
"Hey, game ain't over 'til next time," Tyler called out as he ran off, Ben and Mike close behind.
The coach walked over to Aiden, studying him carefully.
"Well, that was impressive, kid. How'd you like to join the Forks Spartans?" he asked, scouting him.
Aiden wiped sweat from his brow and shook his head.
"Thanks, Sir, but no. I've already got a team... and I gave that up a long time ago."
Without another word, he headed out the gym door toward his next class.