Emily ran...
Blazer flapping behind her like a cape on a discount superhero who'd forgotten the dignity upgrade, hair escaping its ponytail in wild strands. Zero composure preserved. Zero fucks given. She tore through the corridors toward the coaches' offices like her life depended on it—because in her mind, it kind of did.
The kit.
She needed to get Phei's kit.
Coach Reyes was waiting for her—the female basketball coach, a compact woman with eyes that had seen too many seasons, too many spoiled brats, too many Legacy tantrums to be impressed by much of anything anymore.
She was one of the few people on the entire athletics staff openly supporting Phei.
The head coach had washed his hands of the situation faster than a politician caught in a scandal. The assistant coaches had sided with Marcus like it was a blood oath. Even the equipment managers had made their loyalties clear by "accidentally" misplacing half of Phei's gear.
