Percy West stood at the edge of the North Central University turf, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his helmet tucked under his arm like a borrowed prayer. He hadn’t been offered a scholarship. He hadn’t been recruited. He’d sent in a highlight tape recorded on his phone—his mother holding it shaky in the bleachers, wind drowning out the announcer.
August. Heat shimmered off the practice field like a lie.
The coach removed his sunglasses. Behind them, tired eyes that had seen a thousand rookies come and go.
“You lost, kid?” A voice behind him.
Percy turned. A man in a sweaty polo shirt, clipboard tucked under his arm, sunglasses hiding his eyes. The whistle around his neck said coach . The scowl said get lost .
“That all you got to say?”
Percy nodded and jogged onto the field.
