The locker room meeting was calm, professional — no drama, no tension. Just measuring tapes, matching tracksuits, and the usual coach jokes about socks being sacred and not to be shared.
Ami kept to herself, tried to focus on the upcoming tournament and not the awkward weight of recent memories.
Still, when she got home that evening with her travel kit slung over her shoulder and a giant smile on her face, Sandra knew something good had happened.
"Coach picked me," Ami said, barely able to contain the excitement. "I'm repping the school."
Sandra screamed, clapped, and tackled her in a hug that knocked the air out of both of them.
They celebrated with late-night fried yam and a little praise dance in the kitchen, joy bubbling in quiet, silly ways. Ami packed her bag with Sandra sitting nearby, giving unsolicited advice about sweaters and snacks.
The next morning, Sandra walked Ami to the bus park like a proud mom dropping her kid off at university.
Before Ami boarded, Sandra pulled her into a long, motherly hug and kissed her forehead. "Stay safe, my gem," she whispered. "You are not your thoughts. You are your choices."
Ami felt her eyes sting.
But the moment was short-lived. As she climbed onto the coach bus, she realized she was late — almost every seat was taken.
Except one.
The one beside Samira, Vee, and Luna.
With a deep breath, she walked over and sat down, placing her bag squarely between them like a shield.
The bus began to move.
They started talking a few minutes later — casual, teasing comments about Sandra. One of them said, "Yo, Ami's stepmom is kinda... wow."
Another giggled. "Like, seriously. She gives fine-and-fluent energy."
Ami stiffened.
"Excuse me?"
The mood shifted instantly. Samira looked at her, sensing the tone. "We meant no disrespect," she said, and gently moved the bag away to give Ami more space. "She's clearly someone who raised a star."
That cracked the tension. A little.
They talked more — about the tournament, about past games, about stupid things like the best bus snack combo. Slowly, the energy mellowed into something... bearable.
The ride stretched on into the night. Most of the girls fell asleep, curtains drawn, the bus dark except for the faint orange glow from the dashboard.
Around 2 AM, Ami woke up, heart pounding from a dream she couldn't remember. She turned on her phone flashlight for comfort — and paused.
A curtain had been drawn between her row and the girls beside her. Odd. It wasn't like that earlier.
Then she heard something — quiet, rhythmic, breathy.
She froze.
Voices. Whispers. A soft giggle. Something that made her heartbeat quicken for all the wrong reasons.
She tried not to look. But curiosity — and the weight of her recent struggles — made her peek. She saw shadows, shapes, nothing graphic... but enough to know.
They weren't just sleeping.
The bus was... active.
Confused and overwhelmed, Ami rushed toward the tiny restroom in the back of the coach bus. As she opened the door, she nearly walked in on two more girls, startled and red-faced, scrambling to look "normal."
No adults on the ride. Just teenage hormones and closed curtains.
Walking back to her seat, she noticed a lump under one of the blankets. It moved. Two heads. Four legs. She didn't stay to confirm.
She sat, earbuds in, phone on, worship music playing loud enough to drown out everything.
The tension gripped her chest like vines. But she refused to let it control her.
And just as she was about to give up on sleep, she noticed a girl from the younger team — soft-eyed, hoodie-wearing, quietly scrolling her phone.
Their eyes met.
"You too?" the girl whispered, pointing at her earbuds.
Ami smiled faintly. "Yeah. Couldn't sleep."
They started to talk. About food. About Coach's weird rules. About stress.
Nothing deep, but enough.
They laughed quietly, found comfort in each other's calm, and at some point — without even realizing — they both drifted off, leaning gently against the window.
Ami woke up to the sound of cheering — loud, excited, adrenaline-filled.
Rosario had arrived.
And the games were about to begin.