Russell's voice crackled through the phone, furious, panicked.
"Duke! Did you hear? That bastard Collison, he sold you out!"
Snoopy froze. "What happened?"
"Everything!" Russell practically shouted. "He told Sports Illustrated all your weaknesses! That you can't dribble, that your shot's broken, that your coordination sucks, everything! He just dumped your entire scouting report in public! What a snake!"
For a moment, Snoopy's pulse spiked, anger, panic, a rush of cold sweat. Darren Collison's confession meant Memphis University now had the blueprint to crush him.
His mystery was gone. His tiny edge, gone. Tuesday's game would be a war, and every advantage had just vanished.
"Coach Holland's furious," Russell continued. "They're already talking lineup changes. Nolan says most of our wins came because no one really knew how to guard you. Now that your weaknesses are out, they might start Luc Mbah a Moute instead!"
But by now, Snoopy had already steadied his breathing.
"Alright. I get it. I'll be back in an hour. We'll talk then."
He hung up. His expression calm, almost unnervingly so. No one at the dinner table realized this was the biggest crisis of his basketball life.
If Memphis tore him apart on national TV, his NBA dream was done. And without the NBA, his plan to earn money for his father would crumble too.
Across the table, Miley Cyrus was still gushing to Selena Gomez.
"He's amazing! Athletic, creative, funny… and he wrote the whole song!"
Snoopy wanted to melt into his chair. Her enthusiasm sounded less like praise and more like a desperate sales pitch for a product nobody wanted.
So he stood up and smiled politely.
"Miley, sorry, I've got something urgent. I should go."
Her smile froze. The whole table felt the awkward tension, everyone knew Miley had brought this boy to provoke someone, and now her plan was collapsing mid-scene.
"Uh… I'll walk you out," she blurted. Then to the group:
"Snoopy's playing in the NCAA Final Four next week! We should all go cheer for him!"
She hurried after him, trying to look like the perfect, supportive friend.
Kevin Jonas watched them leave and sighed.
"This is getting ridiculous. Nick, man, what's your deal? Miley still likes you, and you've been ghosting her since the tour ended."
Nick Jonas clenched his teeth, then suddenly stood and followed them out. Selena followed soon after.
Joe spread his hands. "A four-way Disney love tangle. Classic."
...
"Listen, Miley!" Nick's voice echoed across Hollywood Boulevard.
"You win! I can't stand watching you with another guy! You're doing this on purpose, to make me jealous! I know you still love me. Let's start over!"
He stretched his arms wide. He looked perfect, like a scripted scene from a teen romance drama.
But the next moment shattered that fantasy. Miley didn't run into his arms. She walked up, eyes cold.
"Nick, you're overthinking it. I'm not mad at you. I'm done with you."
Her tone was sharp, shaking slightly. "Being with you made me feel like I was losing my mind. You're so soft, Nick, I swear I might start liking girls if I stayed with you any longer."
She turned to leave, but then paused, twisted back, and threw a grenade.
"By the way, enjoy your dates with Selena. I know all about them."
Then, spotting Snoopy watching nearby, she called out:
"Snoopy! Do you have a girlfriend?"
Snoopy blinked. "…Yeah."
The crowd fell silent.
But Miley wasn't backing down. She lifted her chin, eyes bright with reckless pride.
"Well, now you have two."
Before Snoopy could react, muah!
Her lips brushed his.
The world froze. Cameras clicked. Gasps.
Snoopy just stood there, stunned.
Miley turned to Selena, triumphant tears in her eyes.
"Selena, you're my best friend. But you only get to steal one of my boyfriends. Not two."
Then she hooked her arm through Snoopy's and walked away. Her steps were proud. Her tears weren't.
At the corner, Snoopy watched her climb into a black van, crying harder now.
He rubbed his lips awkwardly.
"So… that's what they call a white kiss, huh?"
He chuckled softly. "Guess I'll just treat it as a good deed. The wind never blew, I was never here, and she never kissed me."
He had no idea that dozens of paparazzi lenses had caught every second of that "good deed."
Hollywood would be feasting on this scandal by morning.
...
Back in his dorm, Snoopy finally read the full Sports Illustrated article.
Russell was pacing. "He even said you grew eighteen centimeters in one month! Everyone thinks your coordination's shot!"
"Memphis will eat that up," he growled. "Collison just handed them your head on a silver platter!"
Snoopy looked up from the magazine, smiling now.
"No, Russell. He just helped us."
"Huh?"
"He made me sound like a clunky steel robot who can't move. If Memphis believes that…"
Snoopy's grin sharpened.
"…they'll leave the inside wide open."
Russell blinked. Then slowly, a dangerous smile spread across his face too.
Maybe, just maybe, the next game wouldn't be a funeral.
It would be an ambush.