The gym was buzzing.
Not packed, but louder than usual for a preseason scrimmage. Students filled half the bleachers, phones out. Michael noticed it right away.
"People came just to watch?" he asked quietly.
One of the seniors, a lanky forward named Devon, nodded. "Word got out about you. People are curious."
Michael stretched his shoulders slowly. "Then let's give 'em something to talk about."
Coach Alvarez blew his whistle and gathered the team at midcourt.
"We're splitting into Blue and White. Game runs like the season—four 8-minute quarters. Referees, subs, fouls. Treat it like the real thing. Let's see who shows up."
Michael was on Team White. Jamal, of course, was on Blue.
From the jump, the tension was thick.
First play, Jamal called for an iso. Blew past his man, hit a smooth floater.
Michael didn't flinch.
Next possession, he caught the ball on the wing. Triple threat. One hard dribble left, then a snatch back into a fadeaway.
Net.
A few "oohs" rippled through the crowd.
Coach shouted, "Run it back!"
Blue pushed tempo. Michael sprinted back, cut off a fast break, and tipped the pass into Devon's hands. Turnover.
[Progress: 2.41%]
By the end of the first quarter, he had 6 points, 3 rebounds, 1 steal.
But he wasn't forcing it. He was reading.
Second quarter, they started throwing doubles.
He welcomed it.
Kick-outs. Give-and-go cuts. Flash screens. Every time the defense overplayed, he punished them with surgical precision.
The crowd started chanting.
"White team! White team!"
Jamal looked irritated. He forced a deep three that bricked hard.
Michael secured the rebound, pushed the break himself, and went coast-to-coast with a eurostep finish over two defenders.
The gym erupted.
[Progress: 2.66%][Skill Notification: Fast Break Decision-Making +1]
At halftime, Team White was up 34–25.
Coach pulled them into the locker room.
"You're moving the ball. Playing unselfish. But Schmidt—talk to me."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
"You're reading the court like a vet. That just instinct?"
Michael smiled. "Let's call it that."
Coach chuckled and shook his head. "Whatever it is, don't stop."
Second half, Jamal came out aggressive. Hit back-to-back jumpers. Started barking.
"You ain't the only one who can hoop, big man!"
Michael responded the only way he knew how.
Next possession: spin, pump fake, up-and-under. And-one.
He walked right past Jamal on his way to the line.
"You're right," Michael said calmly. "You can hoop. Just not like me."
The crowd lost it.
[Progress: 2.93%]
Final score: White 72, Blue 61.
Michael's stat line: 24 points, 9 rebounds, 4 assists, 2 steals.
The locker room buzzed. Coach handed out quick praise but didn't overdo it. "This ain't the championship. Keep working."
Michael sat back on the bench, towel around his neck, grinning.
He wasn't aiming for praise.
He was chasing progress.
And tonight proved he was just getting started.