“No.”
Cameron looked down.
Nia saw.
“Cameron?”
Devin said:
“Cam, you don't need to—”
Marcus stepped between them slightly.
“Let him answer.”
Devin stared.
“This is family.”
Marcus looked back.
“This is also my player.”
No one spoke.
Cameron wiped his face.
“Dad said you would shut basketball down.”
Nia froze.
Devin exhaled.
“That is not what I said.”
Cameron looked at him.
“You said if Mom knows, she’ll pull me until a doctor says I'm perfect.”
“I said she gets cautious.”
“You said I'd miss the tournament.”
“Because you probably would.”
Nia looked toward Devin.
“Did you tell him to keep playing?”
“I told him soreness happens.”
“Did you tell him to keep playing?”
Devin’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
There.
Marcus closed his eyes.
Nia looked toward her son.
“You thought you had to hide pain from me to keep playing.”
Cameron did not answer.
Eli did.
“He did.”
Everyone turned.
Eli looked immediately uncomfortable.
But he continued.
“He said if his mom saw him limping, she'd end his season.”
Cameron’s face reddened.
“Eli.”
“What?”
“You said it.”
“I didn't mean tell her.”
“Well, she’s here.”
Nia looked at her son.
That hurt.
Not because the fear was entirely unfair.
Because she recognized herself inside it.
Two years earlier Cameron sprained his ankle during soccer season.
Nia kept him out an extra week after the pediatrician cleared him because she thought he still favored it.
Devin argued.
Cameron remembered.
Another time Cameron complained of headaches after a hard practice.
Nia took him to urgent care and removed him from sports for four days.
Everything was fine.
Devin called it overreaction.
Nia called it parenting.
Maybe Cameron had learned both stories.
Dad pushes.
Mom stops.
So hide the middle.
Nia sat beside him.
“I need to see your knee.”
Marcus shook his head gently.
“Let's have the trainer evaluate first.”
Nia almost said she could assess it herself.
Stopped.
Good.
“Okay.”
Marcus looked toward Eli.
“And your wrist.”
Eli nodded reluctantly.
Nia asked:
“Where is the athletic trainer?”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“Not here.”
“What?”
“The host school’s trainer left after the varsity event.”
Nia stared.
“This is a youth tournament.”
“I know.”
“Then why is nobody covering?”
“The league only requires on-site medical coverage for championship rounds.”
Nia looked toward Cameron.
Then Eli.
Her anger found a new direction.
Marcus raised one hand.
“I already called the tournament director.”
“Good.”
“We'll deal with that.”
“Now we get the boys checked.”
The game ended without any of them noticing the score.
Their team lost by six.