“We need to go.”
Miguel stepped closer.
“Wait.”
She looked at him.
“Ma’am.”
“I know this is a strange question.”
“But who coaches him?”
Renee’s face changed.
Jamal saw.
There.
The family subject.
“His father did.”
Past tense.
Not dead.
Worse in a different way.
Miguel waited.
Renee continued.
“Now Coach Bennett at Freedom Park.”
Miguel frowned.
“Derrick Bennett?”
“Yes.”
Recognition.
Miguel looked at Jamal.
“Derrick Bennett coaches you?”
Jamal nodded.
Miguel whistled softly.
That name meant something in Charlotte tennis.
Derrick Bennett had played Division I at North Carolina Central, spent several years on lower-level professional circuits, then returned home and built a community tennis program that produced college players out of public courts most private clubs barely knew existed.
Harrison knew the name too.
“Bennett Tennis Project?”
Renee nodded.
“Three nights a week.”
“Plus weekends.”
Jamal added.
His mother looked at him.
“You are not helping.”
“Sorry.”
Miguel looked toward Harrison.
“No wonder.”
Harrison stared at Jamal.
“How good are you?”
Jamal looked uncomfortable.
Renee answered.
“He is twelve.”
Harrison looked toward her.
“That is not what I asked.”
“That is what I answered.”
Miguel smiled.
Renee continued.
“He wins some.”
“Loses some.”
“Works.”
“Goes to school.”
“Argues about homework.”
“Normal child.”
Jamal muttered:
“I don’t argue that much.”
Renee looked at him.
“Today is not your day.”
He became quiet.
Harrison watched.
Something inside him recalibrated.
He had expected the reveal to be satisfying.
Hidden prodigy.
Surprise talent.
Maybe a scholarship story.
But Renee seemed actively resistant to turning her son into spectacle.
That confused him.
“Does he compete?”
Harrison asked.
“Yes.”
“USTA?”
“Yes.”
“Ranking?”
Renee’s face tightened.
Jamal answered before she could.
“Number nineteen in the state for twelve-and-under.”
Miguel’s eyebrows rose.
Harrison stared.
“Nineteen?”
Jamal nodded.
“And you said sometimes?”
Jamal shrugged.
“Sometimes I’m good.”
Miguel laughed.
Renee did not.
“Jamal.”
“What?”
“Bag.”
He walked toward the bench.
Harrison watched.
Then asked:
“Why is he here carrying balls instead of playing the Founders’ junior event?”
Renee looked at him.
“Because we are not members.”
Simple.
Harrison frowned.
“The junior event has invited players.”
“From partner clubs.”
“We are not a partner club.”
“Bennett Project isn’t invited?”
“No.”
Miguel looked surprised.
“I thought community programs got two wild cards.”
Renee shook her head.
“Not ours.”
Harrison looked toward Preston.
Preston had served on the tournament committee.
“Why?”
Preston shifted.
“Applications closed.”
Renee’s expression changed.
“Applications?”
Preston nodded.