Imagi Mark

Sterlin Jones sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes as the first rays of morning light slipped through his curtains. It wasn't the nervousness that had kept him awake the night before; it was the excitement—the anxious anticipation of what today meant. His last middle school game, the championship, was hours away. After this, it was off to high school, where the stakes would be higher, the players stronger, and the future uncertain.

He leaned back against his headboard, staring at the ceiling fan above him. It was the kind of fan you had to pull twice just to get it spinning, but right now, even its slow rotation felt calming. Sterlin tried to force himself to relax, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop thinking about the game, the months of work that had gotten his team to the Middle School Finals. His hands were steady, his breathing even, but there was a buzz of energy under his skin, one he couldn't shake.

His door creaked open, and a familiar voice broke the silence. "You know that thing's older than you, right?"

Sterlin smirked as he turned his head. "Malcolm," he said, recognizing his older brother instantly. "It was here when we moved in. I'm sure it's been here since the dinosaurs."

Malcolm chuckled as he stepped into the room and leaned against the dresser. "Still, you gotta admit, it adds a little character. Who needs a high-tech fan when you've got a relic like that?

"Sterlin shook his head, laughing softly. "I see you can't sleep either.""Nah, kid. You know me. I'm just here to check on you." Malcolm walked over and plopped into the chair beside Sterlin's bed, the one slightly too small for his tall frame. "So, what's keeping you up? It's not the game, is it?

"Sterlin hesitated. "Maybe it is." he admitted, looking down at his hands resting on the blanket. "We've worked so hard to get here, and now it's all riding on today. What if I mess it up? What if I'm the reason we lose?"

Malcolm snorted. "Sterlin, you're the best player in the state. Hell, you're better than I was at your age. I know you've got this."

Sterlin grinned, his competitive streak sparking to life. "I could take you now, old man. That college ball made you all fundamentals."

Malcolm pouted exaggeratedly."This is how you treat me when I'm trying to cheer you up? Unbelievable."He paused, his expression softening. "But seriously, I know it's not the game that's bothering you. So, what is it?"

Sterlin hesitated again, the grin fading from his face. "I don't know." he said finally. "Maybe it's... everything else. Like, I've been hanging with the same two guys since preschool. What if high school's different? What if I can't make any friends, or—" He stopped himself, cheeks flushing slightly.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Or what? You're worried about girls, aren't you?"

Sterlin groaned, flopping back against his pillow. "I knew you were gonna say that."

"Kid, you've been so focused on basketball, you haven't even noticed the way those middle school girls look at you during games. You think they're there for the free pizza?"

Sterlin chuckled despite himself. "You're not helping."

"Alright, fine." Malcolm leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Look, you're gonna be fine. High school's just the next step, like this game is the next step. Focus on what's in front of you, and everything else will fall into place."

Sterlin nodded, but the knot in his chest didn't quite loosen. He was about to respond when Malcolm stood up and stretched. "Alright, I'm out. Get some sleep, ST. You've got a big day ahead."

Sterlin watched him go, his thoughts still racing. But he did feel a little better. He closed his eyes, letting himself drift off.

The next morning, Sterlin woke up feeling sore and stiff, his body protesting the awkward position he'd slept in. He stretched and looked over at the chair where Malcolm had been sitting the night before, only to find it empty.

"That's strange." he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He'd been so sure Malcolm had fallen asleep there too.

As he got dressed, pulling on a red hoodie with a yellow shooting star stitched onto the front, he heard a knock at his door.His dad, Malcolm Sr, stood in the doorway, already dressed in his running clothes.

"Come on, let's go for a run." his dad said, his tone brisk.

Sterlin frowned, still groggy. "Where's Malcolm? He promised he'd be here for the game."

His dad hesitated for a moment before replying, "He left."

Sterlin's stomach dropped. "What do you mean he left? He has to be here. I need him for this.

"Malcolm Sr. crossed his arms. "Sterlin, your brother has responsibilities. And so do you. Now, let's go.

"Sterlin swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking back tears. He wanted to argue, but the look in his dad's eyes left no room for negotiation. He grabbed his shoes and followed him outside.

As they ran along the track that wound through their backyard, past the garden and basketball court, Sterlin tried to push his frustration aside. His dad's steady pace forced him to focus on his breathing, on the rhythm of his steps.

"Your brother understands his responsibilities." Malcolm Sr. said, breaking the silence. "And so do you."

"I know." Sterlin replied, his voice tight. "But it's not the same without him."

His dad sped up slightly, forcing Sterlin to do the same. "Life isn't always going to feel the way you want it to, son. But you have to show up anyway. No one else can handle your responsibilities for you, and you only go to your corner when the bell rings."

Sterlin nodded, even though his legs burned and his chest felt heavy. He thought about what Malcolm had said the night before, about focusing on what was in front of him. His dad's words echoed in his mind as they ran.

Sterlin didn't know what high school would bring or what that would mean for his future. But for now, he had a game to win. One step at a time. One day at a time. Until the bell rang.