A lanky boy with close-cropped hair nodded, jogging back to position. Beside him, a taller, darker-skinned kid rolled his eyes, catching the ball with one hand.

Near the bleachers, a girl in a practice jersey sat tying her shoelaces, watching the exchange with a knowing smirk.

She nodded toward the far end of the gym, where a man in slacks and a button-down stood reviewing a clipboard—Phil Marksby, arms crossed, eyes scanning the court like he was calculating something.

He walked toward the entrance, where a girl stood—suitcase at her side, looking uncertain in the doorway.