Page 358 of Bad Prince

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Controlled.

Because if I don’t lock everything down?—

something’s going to slip.

And I already know what.

I step out onto the court.

The lights hit different tonight.

Brighter.

Hotter.

There’s more people than usual.

More cameras.

More noise.

This isn’t practice energy.

This is expectation.

“Starting lineup!”

Coach’s voice cuts through.

We line up.

My name gets called last.

“—Tristan Vale!”

I jog out. Game starts.

And immediately—I’m in it. Not thinking. Not hesitating.

Just moving. First possession—I steal it clean. Take it coast to coast.

Finish hard.

Rim rattles.

Crowd pops.

Good.

That’s what they came for.

Next play—I don’t score. I assist. Sharp pass. Wide open three.

Bucket. Then defense. Lockdown. Force a turnover.

Again.

Again.

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