Chapter 41

"Come on boys! Hustle!" The assistant basketball coach yells from his position against the fence separating the bleachers from the track. He's standing in the only patch of shade for a hundred yards, sharing it with the track coach, both of them looking like kings surveying their sweaty, sunburned kingdom. The rest of us? We're out here baking in the early-afternoon sun, sweat dripping down our faces, shirts clinging to our backs, and not a cloud in sight.

I politely ignore what he's saying and focus on finishing my last lap. There's only one guy ahead of me, and honestly, if I was actually trying, he wouldn't be there either. But I'm playing the long game—no need to show all my cards just yet. Besides, I doubt the coach's lackluster motivation is aimed at me. He's probably just trying to keep the stragglers from passing out.

We're a few days into our first week of practice, and I'm still feeling out the skill levels of everyone around me, judging the competition, and letting my restless brain wander. I think about the new skill I got when Flappy Bird hit 10 million downloads—Keyboard Warrior. It's wild: I can use MP to boost my hand speed to nearly supernatural levels. When I activate it, it's almost like bullet time from the video games but I could move normally during that period. But it only works near computers and it has to be related to it. I tried activating it during basketball practice, but nothing happened. I also tried running in my room activating that skill but nothing happened. Guess, the gamer doesn't want me breaking the sound barrier with a basketball.

Still, it's a game-changer for FPS games. I tried it out on Call of Duty and absolutely annihilated people—so much so that I got banned for "suspicious activity." I could easily be the number one player in any game if I grinded a few skills like aiming and game sense, and then maybe I could even start streaming. But after thinking it through, I decided against it. I realized that whenever I achieve some milestone in a particular field, I get a skill related to that. So I wanted to focus on mastering something physical which might help me unlock something supernatural. Physical skills are my priority now—if I can get supernatural powers from sports, like game changer then why not?.

One more development happened is that I just got this month's Play Store payout, and even after paying all our employees, it's a lot. I decided to save most of it to buy a house for my parents, but not before ordering a ton of studio-level equipment from Danny's Music Shop for recording my songs. Now I was confident enough of my skills to actually start recording my music and I have plans for that.

I'm still running, letting my mind drift, observing the guys around me. I'm trying to figure out where I want to stand in comparison. I've decided that being a stamina freak is my best route physically. I'll show off some quickness here and there, but mostly, I want to be the guy who never gets tired, who keeps going when everyone else is ready to drop.

Like right now, for example, we're doing laps on the track, and I'm keeping a steady pace—consistent, reliable, never slowing down. The guy in front of me has bursts of speed followed by slowdowns, his pace all over the place. Mine? Flat line. I could keep this up for ages. Same thing in the weight room yesterday. I watched what the other guys were lifting and made sure my max was just a bit below theirs, but I did an extra set or two. I'm doing this because, unlike regular people who get a bit better every day, I'm tied to my stats. I need to show gradual progress, not sudden leaps. My physical stats are close to leveling up, and when they do, I'll be faster and stronger than any high schooler out there. I'll adjust my performance as my stats improve—my run times will get better, my max reps and sets will go up. For now, I'm showing "natural" growth, but when the scouts start showing up, I won't hold back.

I do worry a bit about how this might affect my stat gains, but just like how people get gains from training muscular endurance over strength, I should see results. It's all training in the end.

As for actually playing basketball, I'm formulating my game plan as I go. There are so many factors to consider. I need to learn more about the team—who's reliable, who's flashy but inconsistent, who's got potential. I want to figure out where I can make the biggest impact. That'll raise my reputation with the team and the spectators. More playing time, more recognition, more looks from college scouts. I know being a good player is obvious, but scouts look for more than that—raw athleticism, untapped potential, leadership. I have to stand out, but not too much. My Game Changer skill can already help me shoot from anywhere on the court with ridiculous accuracy, but I can't let on just how good I am. Not yet.

Got a busy senior year ahead of me.

I cross the finish line and slow to a walk, catching my breath. Funny thing—I used to think people who said they loved running were nuts. They'd go on about how it's healthy, how it helps them think. I never believed them. But now, with a few extra points in END, I get it. Running is actually nice for thinking, as long as your legs aren't screaming and your lungs aren't on fire. The difference a few stat points make is unreal.

"Nice run," I say to Andrew, the guy I let finish first. He takes a second to stop inhaling from his water bottle and nods in acknowledgment. We fist bump, and I settle down to wait for the rest of the guys to finish.

My eyes wander over the field, taking in the other groups. The football guys are in the weight room, so it's just us and the track and field people. They outnumber us, since they've got both boys and girls. Speaking of the girls, I can't help but check them out in their activewear. Some are bundled up in baggy layers, but others are rocking sports bras and tight running shorts, which I wholeheartedly approve of. I mean, who doesn't appreciate a fit girl? I'm not cheating on Alex if it's just looking. Right?

"Dude, you're gonna get whiplash if you keep staring like that," Andrew teases, nudging me with his elbow as he catches me glancing over.

I smirk, stretching my arms overhead. "Can you blame me? They look like they actually enjoy running. That's a rare breed."

Jackson, the returner and our unofficial team captain, grunts. "Just don't let Coach catch you. Last time he saw me checking out the track girls, he made us run suicides until I nearly puked."

I laugh. "So that's why you always look so serious during practice. You're traumatized."

Jackson rolls his eyes. "Nah, I just value my legs. And my lunch."

Andrew chimes in, shaking his head. "If Coach adds any more laps, I'm faking an injury. You guys are on your own."

I grin, glancing back at the girls. "Worth it, honestly. I could run a few extra miles for that view."

Jackson sighs, already exhausted. "You say that now. Wait until your calves are on fire and you're seeing stars."

Andrew groans dramatically. "Please, no. I barely survived today as it is."

I shrug, still grinning. "Endurance is a mindset, gentlemen. Plus, it's good motivation."

Jackson gives me a sideways look. "You keep talking like that, you'll end up on the track team instead."

"Not a chance," I say, laughing. "I like basketball too much. Plus, I'd miss dunking on you guys."

Andrew snorts. "You wish."

Jackson shakes his head, then Andrew looks at Jackson and asks. "So, you guys think we'll get some scouts out here this season? It's my last shot, you know."

I perk up, giving Jackson my full attention. "Yeah, man, what's the deal with that? You've been on varsity forever. You gotta have some insight."

Jackson shrugs, but there's a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Maybe. If we play well, win a few big games, you never know who might show up."

Andrew leans in, suddenly interested. "Guess we better step up, then."

I nod, and grinned. "Let's make it a season worth remembering."

I know that I will have to trust these guys with my back on the court and they don't seem that bad, anyways.

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