It includes the automated receipt from your tournament office. My desktop is loading the archived mailbox now.” “We need it as soon as you can verify it,” Ward said. “Tell Imani I remember her. The girl who came to enrollment with basketball shoes tied to her backpack because she’d been running between buses.

I signed her form myself.” Imani turned her face away so no one could see the tears arriving without permission. She remembered that day, too. Her mother had taken a half shift off work, and the two of them had spent hours carrying documents through offices. Imani had apologized for the trouble as though moving homes were a personal failure.

Mrs. Okafor had offered her a chair and said that taking care with records was part of the job, not a favor. The game went on. With Mina running point, South Dock cut the margin to six. Zora drew a charge and found herself with three fouls. Ward sat her for a short rest. Orchard took advantage, scoring inside twice.

By the time Zora returned, South Dock trailed by nine again. Imani looked at the scoreboard and then at the North office window. She couldn’t see Grant’s desk from here, only its reflection on the glass. She tried to imagine a packet traveling from a school computer to a tournament inbox. One piece of routine paperwork crossing the distance between her and the floor.

It seemed impossibly fragile, that invisible path. Yet, she had trusted ordinary passes all tournament. A ball didn’t become real only when she held it. Tasha slid onto the bench behind her. “Mr. Flores agreed to talk to Director Grant,” she said.

“He didn’t promise what he’d say, just what he remembers.” “That’s enough.” “And I kept the original clip private.” “Thank you.” Tasha hesitated.

“I wanted to show Lily the file, let her know she didn’t get away with it.” “What stopped you?” “You.” “Saying the important people should see the whole thing.” “I thought maybe she doesn’t deserve to know what we have yet.”

Imani shook her head. “It isn’t about making her scared. It’s about making the report true.” Tasha looked down at the phone. “You’re better at that than I am.”

“No,” Imani said. “I’m just the one sitting here with a reason to practice.” At halftime, the score was 34 to 25. Ward gathered the players without waiting for any news from the office. She drew out a plan for the third quarter, beginning with shorter possessions and tighter rebounding positions.