He gasped.
The ice pack dropped.
Nia released Eli immediately and grabbed Cameron around the waist.
“Cameron.”
“I’m good.”
“No, you're not.”
“I said I'm good.”
His face had gone pale.
Nia lowered him onto the bench.
Fear transformed into anger again.
She looked toward Eli.
“Did this happen when you two were fighting?”
Eli stared at her.
“We weren't fighting.”
“Then why are both of you hurt?”
“Because—”
“Mrs. Reynolds!”
A man’s voice cut through the gym.
Nia turned.
Coach Marcus Green was running toward them from the scorer’s table.
At forty-four, Marcus was built like the college forward he had once been, though age had thickened his shoulders and added gray to his beard. He wore a navy polo with the youth program’s logo stitched over one side and carried the permanent expression of a man supervising twelve boys who believed water breaks were optional.
He reached the bench slightly out of breath.
“Nia.”
“What happened?”
He looked from her to Eli.
Then down at Eli’s wrist.
“Why are you holding his arm?”
“I’m not.”
“Were you?”
“I was checking his wrist.”
Eli said quietly:
“She grabbed me.”
Nia stared at him.
“I did not grab you.”
“You held my wrist when I said no.”
The sentence landed.
Not because Nia thought she had hurt him.
Because he was right about the boundary.
She opened her mouth.
Marcus raised one hand.
“Everybody stop.”
He crouched in front of the boys.
“Cam.”
Cameron looked down.
“Tell your mom.”
The boy’s jaw tightened.
Marcus waited.
“Tell her.”
Nia looked between them.
“What?”
Cameron said nothing.
Marcus turned toward Eli.
“You too.”
Eli looked angry now.
Not frightened.
Not guilty.
Angry.
“Tell her what?”
Marcus’s voice softened.
“Exactly what happened.”
Eli looked at Nia.
“I didn't hurt Cameron.”
Nia exhaled.
“Then—”
Marcus raised one finger.
“Let him finish.”
Nia stopped.
Eli turned toward Cameron.
“You want me to say it?”
Cameron stared at the floor.
“No.”
“Then you say it.”
Silence.
The game continued behind them.
A whistle blew.
Parents cheered.
Somewhere a ball struck the rim.
At the bench, the world had narrowed to four people.
Nia looked at her son.
“Cameron.”
His eyes filled.
That scared her more than the ice.
“What happened?”
He whispered:
“My knee was already hurting.”
Nia stopped.
“What?”
Cameron rubbed his face.
“It started before today.”
“How long?”
No answer.
Marcus looked down.
Nia’s voice changed.
“How long?”
“Three weeks.”