Noah

The lunchroom was its usual madhouse — the kind of place where trays clattered, conversations bounced off the walls, and the smell of overcooked pizza and fries hung thick in the air.

I sat at our usual table with Jackson, Daniel, and a couple of the other guys from the team. Jackson was in full story mode, animatedly telling us about Friday night’s game plan, while Daniel sat there looking like he’d been chewing on nails all day. His jaw kept working, tight and angry, and he ...