Logan watched from the basketball section.
His captain title had recently been restored under strict conditions.
He should have been relieved.
Instead, he looked at the jacket.
Two days later, Bryce tapped the red letter while Camryn passed him in Athletic Leadership.
“How many sports do you need before you stop reporting ours?”
Camryn slapped his hand away from the fabric.
“Don’t touch my jacket.”
Bryce raised both hands.
“Relax.”
Logan laughed from behind him.
The jacket became the new joke.
The boys would point at the letter when Camryn corrected something during class. They called it her “deputy badge” and asked whether the red S stood for snitch. Usually they did it loudly enough for friends to hear and quietly enough that teachers missed the setup.
Camryn documented that too.
She stopped wearing the jacket to Athletic Leadership for nearly two weeks.
Then she became angry at herself.
The jacket represented state tournaments, dawn practices, bruised shoulders, track meets in freezing rain, and hundreds of hours her mother had spent driving to competitions. Logan had contributed exactly nothing to earning it.
She put it back on.
February was the hardest month.
The girls’ wrestling state tournament came first.
Camryn finished fourth.
Not champion.
Not even podium top three.
Still the best result any female wrestler from Summit Ridge had ever achieved.
Coach Ramirez hugged her.
Coach Dalton congratulated her.
Even Noah sent a message.
Fourth in the whole state is insane.
Camryn replied:
Insane would’ve been first.
Noah sent back:
Athletes are exhausting.
She laughed.
Logan did not congratulate her.
Instead, he told Bryce that Summit Ridge celebrated “every participation trophy now.”
A student standing nearby repeated the comment to Camryn.
She did nothing.
That silence was becoming more difficult.
Then Logan lost his captain title permanently.
The reason had nothing to do with Camryn.
During an away basketball game, Logan cursed at an assistant coach after being benched for a technical foul. Coach Dalton had warned him repeatedly that captains would be held to a higher standard.
The next morning, the title went to another senior.
Logan told friends the school had been waiting for an excuse.
By lunch, Camryn’s name entered the story.
“She’s been trying to get me kicked off everything all year.”
Bryce believed him.
Tyler mostly stayed quiet.
Noah heard the rumor and told Camryn.
She closed her eyes.
“I wasn’t even at the game.”
“I know.”
“Was I secretly controlling Coach Dalton by satellite?”
Noah smiled.
“Probably.”
At least somebody could laugh.
March arrived.
Graduation was less than three months away.
Camryn had been accepted into a kinesiology program at the University of Cincinnati and planned to wrestle with a club team while deciding whether she wanted physical therapy or athletic training. She wanted senior year to become ordinary.
For nearly two weeks, it did.
Then Athletic Leadership began its final unit.
Students were responsible for organizing a middle-school sports clinic in Summit Ridge’s gym. Camryn managed first-aid stations, Logan handled basketball drills, and other seniors ran volleyball, wrestling, soccer, and track activities.
They needed to work in the same room.
Coach Ramirez warned both students.
“Professional.”
Camryn nodded.
Logan nodded.
The middle-school clinic itself went well.
The confrontation happened the next day.
Students were cleaning equipment during seventh period.