Monday came too soon.
The alarm buzzed at 6:45, but Connor was already awake, staring at the ceiling, the sound of the final whistle from yesterday echoing somewhere in the back of his head. Three points.That was all it had taken. Three points between silver and gold.
Downstairs, the smell of coffee and pancakes drifted through the kitchen. His mom was at the stove, still in her work scrubs. Sophie sat at the table, with a colour book. His dad rustled the morning paper like it was still 1995.
When Connor walked in, all three heads turned toward him.
"Morning, champ," his dad said with a grin. "Or should I say runner-up?"
Connor winced, but his mom gave him a playful nudge. "Don't listen to him. You played amazing, honey. Everyone at work was talking about how Ridgefield made it to the finals."
"Yeah," Daniel added, flipping his phone around. "You're basically famous. An article went up last night."
He blinked. "Already?"
The screen showed a clean layout on the Ridgefield High Gazette site.'Wolves Rise to Finals in Stunning Run' Beneath the headline was a photo, Connor mid-set, hair flying, eyes locked on the ball. It didn't even look like him, not the him who'd been nervous before every serve.
"It was taken during the Cascade match," Sophie said. "You should read it, it's actually really good. Mom read to me. "
Connor sat down, pushing his fork through his pancakes. "Yeah… maybe later."
His mom glanced at him carefully. "Still thinking about the game?"
He hesitated, then sighed. "A little. I just… I wanted to be on the court at the end."
His dad folded the paper, leaning forward. "You'll get your shot, Connor. The coach sees what you can do. You're only a freshman."
His Mom nudged his arm gently. "You'll have more chances. And hey, you looked cool out there."
Connor smiled faintly. "Thanks, Mom."
⸻
By the time he got to school, everyone seemed to know. Students stopped him in the halls to congratulate him; even teachers mentioned the Wolves' run before class started. Noah and Dylan were already by his locker, trading snacks and complaints about homework.
"Dude," Noah said, grinning, "did you see the article headline? I'm basically famous by association."
Dylan rolled his eyes. "You didn't even play in the final."
"Details, details." Noah waved a hand. "But you guys did, though. Lucas says the team looked sharp. He's proud of us."
Connor blinked. "He said that?"
"Yeah," Noah said, his grin softening. "He said we looked like an actual varsity squad this time. Said he could tell the freshmen were the difference."
Connor couldn't help the small warmth that stirred in his chest. That meant something, especially coming from someone like Lucas.
A voice called from down the hall. "Hey! Wolves!"
Harper jogged up, her press badge bouncing against her notebook. "Perfect timing. I was hoping to see you guys." Sam just behind her.
She beamed, holding up her camera. "So, thoughts on the article? Honest reviews?"
"You made us look way cooler than we are," Sam said. "That's gotta be worth extra credit."
Harper laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Connor nodded toward her notebook. "Working on the next story already?"
"Always." She flipped a page, pen tapping against the margin. "Coach Reynolds gave me permission to follow the team through winter training. Maybe even a feature on how you're preparing for next season."
Noah gasped dramatically. "Does that mean we get interviews?"
"Only if you can behave for more than thirty seconds," Harper teased.
"That's gonna be tough," Dylan said.
Connor smiled quietly, the weight of the weekend finally starting to loosen.But somewhere beneath the laughter, the ache of the loss still lingered.
⸻
The gym was quieter than usual, just the echo of sneakers and the faint squeak of the ball during warm-ups. The players moved slower than normal, but there was a calmness to it, too.
Coach Reynolds stood at the sideline, clipboard in hand. "Alright, everyone in," he called.
They circled around, some stretching, others leaning on their knees.
"I won't keep you long," he said. "I know you're tired, and most of you have classes to catch up on. But before we move forward, I want to take a second to look back."
His voice carried evenly through the gym."When this season started, I told you I didn't care about predictions. What I cared about was heart. Effort. Growth." He paused, scanning their faces. "You gave me all three."
He nodded toward the seniors: Elias, Mason, Jordan. Then to the younger players. "Every one of you contributed to what we did this weekend. You played fearless volleyball. You pushed through nerves, exhaustion, and tougher rosters. You earned every point."
His tone softened. "We didn't win the trophy. But we won something more important, a foundation. The Wolves are back, and people know it."
A few players smiled. Even Sam cracked a grin.
Then the coach looked directly at the freshmen."Connor, Dylan, Sam, Noah, you four proved that this team's future is bright. You've got potential, but you've also got composure, and that's rare."
Connor felt his chest tighten again but this time, it wasn't guilt. It was pride.
Reynolds continued, "Lucas wanted me to tell you all he's proud of what you did. He's getting tests done this week to see how his shoulder's healing, but he said he'll be back in the gym soon, even if it's just warm ups."
Noah grinned. "He already texted me that. Said he'd make me do extra drills."
Reynolds chuckled. "That sounds like Lucas."
The team laughed quietly, and the tension finally broke.
"Alright," the coach said, clapping his hands once. "We'll take it easy this week. Stretching, recovery, a few light sets. After that, winter training starts. Be ready."
He smiled faintly. "We're not done yet."
⸻
The gym emptied slowly. The older players left in groups, still chatting about missed plays and close saves. Connor lingered by the bleachers, untying his shoes. The system flickered softly in the corner of his vision.
[End-of-Tournament Analysis Complete]
Ratings
• Setting Accuracy — B+
• Court Vision — A-
• Serve Receive — B
• Defense — C-
• Stamina — B
Overall Rating in Tournament:72
[System Note: Player trending upward. Mental recovery recommended.]
[New Function Unlocked: "Match Analysis — Level 1"]
[New Mission: Prepare for Winter Camp — Raise Team Sync to 90% before break.]
He closed the window, slipping his shoes into his bag. The sound of sneakers squeaking drew his attention — Harper was standing near the gym doors, her notebook under her arm.
"You okay?" she asked.
He hesitated. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
"About the tournament?"
"Yeah. About everything."
Harper smiled softly. "You'll get another shot. You can feel it when you watch you play."
He looked up at her, genuinely surprised. "You really think so?"
"I don't write lies," she said simply. Then, with a grin, "And I have a good sense for stories with happy endings."
He laughed under his breath. "Guess we'll see."
⸻
At dinner, the house was livelier again. Sophie was talking about her upcoming art projects; their mom was recounting hospital stories; their dad was trying (and failing) to fix the TV remote.For the first time since the weekend, it felt normal.
Afterward, Connor sat by his window, the Ridgefield lights glowing faintly beyond the trees.He opened the system again.
[Sub-Missions Available: Teamwork, Stamina, Set Precision, Mental Fortitude.]
[Optional: Analyze Recorded Matches for Tactical Growth.]
He tapped the new function , Match Analysis.The familiar image of the court appeared, the plays from the Cascade match replaying from an overhead view.He watched every movement. Elias's quick tosses, Mason's timing at the net, his own hesitation before switching tempo.
For the first time, he didn't see the loss, he saw possibility.
[Note: Growth trajectory steady. Emotional resilience improving.]
He smiled faintly, closing the interface.
Outside, the November wind rustled through the trees, whispering against the window.He didn't know what the next weeks would bring , midterms, winter camp, maybe more but for now, that was okay.
Since joining Ridgefield Central, Connor Blake felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.