Walker Scobell sat slouched on the metal bleachers of a loud high school gym, arms crossed, hood halfway over his head. His older sister, Leena, sat beside him—on the edge of her seat, shouting support every time her friend, number thirteen made a play. The gym was packed, the buzz of whistles, sneakers squeaking, and constant yelling bouncing off every wall.

Leena elbowed him. “Watch this. She’s about to wreck that serve.”

Walker didn’t respond. He was already zoning out, watching the scoreboard more than the game. But then it happened fast—a missed block sent the ball sailing high and wide, heading out of bounds toward their side of the bleachers.

Number thirteen sprinted full speed after it.

Walker barely had time to blink before she lunged forward, hit the ball mid-air—and kept going.

“Wait, what—”

THUD.

She crashed directly into him, half falling into his lap and half onto the bench beside him. Walker’s back hit the metal with a thud, his breath catching from the unexpected impact.

He looked down to find her sprawled awkwardly across his legs, trying to catch her balance with one hand on the bench and the other pressed against his shoulder.

“…Sorry!” she said quickly, scrambling off him with the kind of speed only pure embarrassment could fuel.

Walker sat up, adjusting his hoodie, blinking like he was still processing what happened.

Leena burst out laughing beside him. “Yo, you just got tackled.”

“Yeah, thanks, I noticed,” Walker muttered, brushing himself off.

“You good?” Leena asked, still grinning.

He shot her a look. “Physically? Probably. Mentally? I need a second.”

They both turned back to the court. Number thirteen was already in position like nothing happened.

Walker shook his head. “Tell your friend she owes me a helmet.”

Leena snorted. “Please. You’re lucky. She usually wipes out two people minimum.”

After the game, Walker hung back near the doors while Leena ran over to congratulate her friend. He kept his hands in his pockets, trying not to draw attention, but it didn’t work.