The gym was buzzing with energy again. Yesterday was volleyball, but today, it was all about basketball. This was different—basketball wasn't just about teamwork; it was about individual skills. I was feeling more confident today. The team was ready, and we had Zach, whose competitive streak had been on fire lately.
We were matched against Jake's team in the first round. Alongside Jake were other second-years I'd come across before. But today, none of that mattered—on the court, we were rivals, not friends
As the whistle blew, we locked in. Zach and I had a plan—play fast, don't let their height advantage control the game, and keep the pressure up. Jake's defense was solid, but Zach was quick on his feet, feeding me perfect passes, and I was driving to the hoop hard.
Jake, being the calm guy he is, didn't lose his composure, but I could tell our speed was making it tough for them to keep up. I managed to break through their defense several times, racking up points with fast breaks. Zach nailed a few key shots from outside the arc, and others held strong in defense, blocking some tough shots.
By the end of the match, we had beaten Jake's team. It wasn't easy, but we pulled through.
Zach grinned at me as we walked off the court. "Told you we'd make it past them."
I smirked, wiping the sweat off my face. "One down. Let's see how far we can go."
I turned my attention to Ryan's game. His team was up against one of the third-year teams—giants compared to us. Ethan, Owen, Logan, and the rest of them were holding their own, but I could see it was going to be a tough fight from the start.
The third years played hard, using their size and experience to dominate. Ryan's team put up a good fight, but in the end, they lost their first-round match. It wasn't a surprise, but it stung to see them get knocked out so early.
But then, luck swung their way.
Ryan's team advanced to the semi-finals as a by team. It was a second chance, and I knew they'd take it seriously.
Our next match was against the same third-year team that had knocked out Ryan's squad. I could already feel something was off—even before the whistle. Maybe it was the way they stood, calm but sharp-eyed, or maybe it was just how heavy the gym air suddenly felt. They were bigger, faster, and moved like they'd done this a hundred times. Zach and I gave everything, tried every angle, but every shot felt a little harder, every pass a little more rushed. The cracks started showing early. We knew it—we just didn't want to admit it yet.
We lost in the semi-finals, but we didn't go down without a fight. Zach led with determination, and everyone on the team pushed themselves to the limit. We played our best defense yet, but the third years were just too strong
After the game, Zach shrugged, sweat pouring down his face. "We're still in it for third place," he said, trying to stay positive.
"Yeah," I nodded. "One more game."
Ryan's team advanced to the semi-finals with a bye. They faced off against another group of third years, and the game was just as intense. Ethan was playing like a beast, and Owen was giving it everything he had on defense, but the third years were just too strong.
Ryan's team lost, but they were still in it—for third place. That meant one thing: the final battle for third would be between us and them.
This was it—the match everyone had been waiting for. A battle between friends, but on the court, we weren't holding back.
They came out strong, like they had something to prove. Ethan and Adrian were making big plays right from the start, and Ryan was commanding the court like he always does—focused, composed, pulling the strings. Their rhythm was sharp, and their confidence made it clear: they weren't planning to settle for fourth.
But Zach and I weren't backing down. We matched their pace, blow for blow. Every time they scored, we came back just as hard. There was no room to breathe. My legs were already heavy, my chest burning, but somehow, we kept our defense locked and our rhythm steady with Zach's quick passes. It was messy, intense, and nothing like those casual matches we'd had in the past. This felt personal.
With only a few seconds left on the clock, the scoreboard was tied. My heart was pounding louder than the crowd. Zach passed me the ball, sharp and clean, and I saw it—that one opening. I didn't think. I drove to the basket, weaving past Owen's defense, pushing through whatever was left in me. The ball left my hands just before the buzzer.
And then it dropped.
We'd won. Third place was ours.
I dropped to the floor, catching my breath, the sweat stinging my eyes. The whole match felt like a blur now—a blur that somehow ended with us standing a little taller.
Ryan came over, shaking his head but smiling. "Good game," he said, clapping me on the back.
"Yeah," I laughed, still trying to catch my breath. "You guys didn't make it easy."
The finals were underway, and the whole school was buzzing. The third-year teams were still battling for the first, but for me, the real match was already over. I sat with my friends, watching the giants clash on the court.
As we watched, Zach leaned over to me. "We're still ahead of Ryan's team in points," he said, nodding toward the scoreboard. "Barely, but it counts."
I smirked. "Yeah, but we've still got soccer tomorrow. We can't let our guard down."
Zach grinned, his competitive fire reigniting. "We'll crush it."