### Drew's PoV
I glanced back at Wilt, who was deep in conversation with Loxus and Natasha. He would never reach his full potential. His ankle and his inability to see beyond the team held him back.
He was so focused on supporting others that he couldn't see the bigger picture—this was a competition, and only the strongest would rise to the top.
"You haven't moved past what happened in middle school, have you, Drew?" a voice called out.
I turned and glanced at Jensen, who leaned against a wall, dribbling his basketball in a steady rhythm.
I didn't say anything, knowing where this conversation was headed.
He sighed and caught his ball, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. "You really irk me. Not just because of your disregard for the group, but at the personal insult it represents."
I turned away, trying to shake off his words. "Take it as one then. Also, congrats on the win earlier."
Jensen sighed, frustration etched on his face. "That didn't feel like one, though. It got halted; plus, you had a relative newbie for half of the game. Had Wilt stayed in or had the game lasted as long as it should've, Loxus and I would've probably lost."
I frowned at his assessment. "You think Wilt would have made that much of a difference? He's still figuring things out."
"Maybe, but he has potential," Jensen said, his voice rising slightly. "You just don't see it because all you care about is winning. If you actually took the time to help him instead of pushing him aside, you might find that he could be a valuable asset."
"Is that so?" I shot back, crossing my arms. "I'm not here to coddle anyone. If they want to keep up, they need to toughen up. This isn't middle school anymore. We're not here to play nice."
"Look, I get that you want to prove yourself, but you're making it your problem if you want to win. You can't be the star of the show if you keep alienating the people around you," Jensen replied, his tone now serious. "You think Wilt's weak? He's got heart, and that counts for something. You should be using that to your advantage, not throwing it away."
I felt a spark of irritation at his words. "You think I don't see his potential? I do! But it's not my job to babysit him. He has to step up on his own."
"Great players lift their teammates, Drew. If you keep treating everyone like extras in your story, you'll find yourself alone when it counts," Jensen said, shaking his head. "You're missing a golden opportunity to build a solid team."
"Easy for you to say," I shot back, my frustration bubbling over. "You're not the one who has to carry the weight of everyone's expectations."
"Maybe you should learn to share that weight instead," Jensen replied, his voice calm but firm. "You can't keep acting like this and expect results. Wilt might have his issues, but he's working hard. You could learn a thing or two from him about perseverance and teamwork."
"Whatever," I muttered, turning my back to him again. I didn't want to hear any more about Wilt or Sylvester. All I cared about was winning and making sure I came out on top.
As I walked away, I could feel Jensen's eyes still on me, but I didn't look back. I wasn't going to let anyone dictate how I played or how I viewed this team. I'd prove my worth on my own terms.
Jensen sighed and ran after me. He patted my back. "You need to forget what happened in middle school, Drew. Those kids were only looking out for themselves. Don't become like them."
I lowered my head, his words stirring something deep inside me. The memories flooded back, uninvited yet persistent.
---
[Years ago- Middle School Gymnasium]
The gym was alive with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor and the cheers of our classmates echoing off the walls. Our middle school team was doing well, riding a wave of momentum that seemed unstoppable. I felt invincible, surrounded by my teammates, all of us fueled by the thrill of the game.
I could remember the moment clearly—just seconds left on the clock, and we were down by a point. I had the ball, and I saw an opening. My teammate, Tyler, was wide open near the basket.
"Tyler! I'm passing!" I shouted, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I made the pass, and the ball zipped across the court. But instead of taking the shot, Tyler faked a drive, dribbling the ball a few times before attempting a flashy layup, trying to impress the crowd.
"Come on, pass it back!" I yelled, frustration creeping into my voice.
Tyler ignored me, too caught up in his moment of glory. The seconds ticked down, and I could feel the pit in my stomach growing deeper—this was our chance, and he was throwing it away.
He took a shot, but it bounced off the rim, the sound echoing like a death knell in my ears. The buzzer rang, signaling the end of the game, and our hopes of winning evaporated into thin air.
The silence that followed was deafening. I felt the weight of disappointment crash over me like a pile of falling bricks.
Jensen and the rest of my teammates stared at the basket in disbelief. We had done so well this season, only to lose because of a missed shot... One that I might've been able to make, had I been given the ball.
"What were you thinking, man?" I confronted Tyler as we walked off the court, the sting of defeat still fresh. "We had a chance, and you just—"
"Chill out, Drew," he snapped, brushing me off. "It was just a game. I wanted to show everyone I could score. Maybe if you passed more often, you'd get the credit you deserve."
The words hit me harder than the loss itself. In that moment, I realized that Tyler didn't care about the team or our chances of winning; he was only looking out for himself. I had passed the ball, but he had taken our moment and turned it into his own.
---
**Back to Present**
I shook my head, trying to dispel the memory as I walked briskly down the hallway, Jensen's words still lingering in the air. I could feel the weight of that moment pressing down on me, a reminder of how easily trust could be broken on the court.
"Drew!" Jensen called after me, pulling me back to the present. "You can't let that define you. You have to be better than that."
I stopped and turned, my frustration boiling over. "What do you want from me, Jensen? You think I don't know how to play? I'm not trying to be like those guys in middle school. I just don't want to end up disappointed again. I can't rely on anyone but myself."
"Then you'll never reach your full potential," Jensen replied, his voice steady. "You can't win games alone. You need your teammates. You need to trust us!"
I looked at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Maybe I had been too hard on Wilt, Sylvester, and the others. But trusting people again felt like risking another failure, another moment where I could be let down. I hated being let down.
Jensen took a step closer, his expression earnest. "You have the talent, Drew. But if you keep pushing everyone away, you'll find yourself standing alone on that court, and it won't be as easy as you think."
I felt a mixture of anger and confusion. Did I want to be like Tyler, chasing personal glory at the expense of the team? Or was there a way to balance my drive with the need for connection?
"Just think about it," Jensen said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
I pulled his arm off. "Let's just focus on training."
He grinned and raised the ball in his other hand. "Sure, Drewy!"