Write down what you see. Imani opened a little graph paper notebook. Across the top, she wrote Voss, hips before hands. She marked three possessions, shoulder dip, two dribbles, layup. Then a counter example, shoulder dip, step back shot.

It would have been comforting if all four had proved her right. The exception was more useful. It reminded her she was observing a player, not solving an equation that would make a player disappear. Mariner won convincingly. Brielle took a final bow when the buzzer sounded, laughing at a group of supporters waving her photograph.

No rule prohibited enjoying a victory. Imani thought of the way North Pierce captain had shaken her hand the day before. The difference stayed with her as she followed Ward toward the practice court. There, the team worked through screens while the next game was being set up. Zora stood with her hands lifted like a defender.

Imani attacked left, then planted, and took a quick right-handed banker from the middle of the lane. It hit the back rim. Again, Zora said. I’m trying. You’re throwing your shoulder through it.

Coach told you that yesterday. I heard her. You heard the part where she said not to aim at the glass like it owes you money. Imani laughed despite herself. She took a slower approach, brought the ball up with her right hand, and placed it softly against the upper corner of the square.

It fell through. “That’s one.” Zora said. “You need 10 before we go.” “You enjoy this too much.”

“Somebody has to.” Six of the next 10 went in. It was not a miracle. It was a number they could improve. Ward logged the misses along with the makes.

When Brielle glanced into the gym on her way to the interview area, she saw Imani practicing with the hand she had used so awkwardly the day before. Brielle watched long enough to make Imani self-conscious, then kept walking. During a short break, Brielle reappeared with Harper near the water fountain. She dismissed Harper with a nod and approached Imani alone. In the relative quiet of the hallway, she looked less like a poster and more like an exhausted teenager who was expected to remain impressive from morning until evening.

“Look,” Brielle said, “that thing on the first day got stupid.” Imani waited. “Harper gets carried away. Lily makes everything into content. If you let it go, it’ll blow over.”