Walking through the halls of Lincoln Heights Academy on the first day felt strange in a way Darius couldn't quite articulate. The building itself was newer than what he remembered from his time as Che, cleaner, with better lighting and wider corridors. But it wasn't just the physical space that felt different. It was the rhythm of it all.
Malik had tried to prep him during the drive to school that morning. "Yo, high school is different from what we used to do at the community center, man. Everyone here is serious about their sport. Like, really serious. And socially? You got your theater kids, your band kids, your athletes, the academics. Everyone's got their clique."
"Same as before," Darius had said.
"Nah, it's different. Before, everyone kind of mixed. Here, the separation is real. You're not going to see the debate team hanging with the basketball players unless they're dating or something."
Darius had absorbed this information, but knowing something intellectually and experiencing it were two entirely different things. Standing in the hallway between first and second period, watching the flow of students move around him in their established groups, he understood what Malik meant.
He didn't have anyone. Malik had disappeared almost immediately after dropping him at his locker, heading off to be with his crew of friends from his sophomore year. Darius had his schedule, his textbooks, and a growing sense of isolation despite being surrounded by hundreds of people.
Then someone grabbed his shoulder from behind.
"Darius?"
He turned around and found himself looking up at someone he recognized immediately. Khalil. But not the Khalil from that game against the Titans six months ago. This Khalil was different. Taller, definitely. Maybe six-foot-three, six-foot-four now. His frame had filled out, muscle packed onto muscle. His presence had grown too, if that was even possible. There was a gravitational pull to him that made people near him look twice.
And judging by the way several girls near them suddenly became very aware of his location, that gravitational pull extended far beyond just basketball.
"Khalil," Darius said, a slight smile appearing. "Yeah, it's me."
"Man, I knew that was you!" Khalil's grin was genuine, his voice carrying that same confident ease it always had. "Saw those cornrows in the hallway and thought 'that looks like somebody who takes this seriously.' Then I saw your face and boom, it clicked."
They shook hands, and Darius noticed immediately that Khalil's grip was different too. Stronger. More confident. Everything about him suggested someone who'd spent the last year just getting better at everything.
"You still play ball?" Khalil asked, though the question seemed more like a formality. Like he already knew the answer.
"Definitely," Darius said. "That's literally all I've been doing since last summer."
"Yeah?" Khalil's eyes lit up. "Good. Because we need you."
"We?"
"The team. Lincoln Heights basketball team. We got a tryout this week, and honestly, we could use some depth at guard. The talent pool at this school is insane, but so is the competition. We're one of the Elite Eight, you know?"
Darius nodded. He'd heard about it from Malik. The Elite Eight. Eight high schools in their district that dominated everything. Sports. Academics. Had the best facilities, the best coaching, the most resources. Being part of one of the Elite Eight schools meant being part of something bigger than just a high school. It meant the culture of excellence was built into the foundation of the place.
"How competitive we talking?" Darius asked.
"We're talking state-level competitive," Khalil said, and his tone had shifted into something more serious. "Last year we made it to the regional playoffs. Year before that, we went all the way to the state tournament. This year, Coach is saying he wants to win it all. Like, actually win it all."
He glanced around at the other students moving through the hallway, then back at Darius.
"Making the first team here is different than what we used to do in the community rec leagues. This is serious. The tryouts are brutal. Coach cuts like half the guys who show up. And the guys who make the team? They're playing college-level basketball. Some of these dudes are getting recruited already."
Darius took that in. He'd known high school ball would be different, but hearing it confirmed by someone like Khalil made it feel more real. More immediate.
"I'm ready," Darius said.
Khalil studied him for a moment, then smiled. "I believe you. You've got that look. That look people get when they've been working for something real. I know it because I've had it too."
The warning bell rang, signaling five minutes until second period.
"Look, we got tryouts Thursday after school in the gym," Khalil said. "Show up ready to work. And hey, it's good to see a familiar face here. Makes the whole Elite Eight thing feel less overwhelming, you know?"
"Yeah, I get that."
Khalil gave him one more solid handshake before heading off down the hallway, already greeting other people as he walked, people who clearly knew him, clearly respected him. Girls watched him go. Guys nodded at him. He moved through the hallway like someone who belonged there completely.
Darius headed to his next class, but his mind wasn't really on academics. It was on Thursday. On tryouts. On what Khalil had said about this being different. About the Elite Eight being a different level entirely.
He'd spent six months training. Six months pushing himself to level twenty-five on the Hustle System. Six months preparing to be unstoppable.
Now it was time to find out if all that work actually meant something in this new arena.