Seeker

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The alarm jolts me awake, and I slap it off with more force than I mean to. I lie there for a second, staring up at the ceiling, letting my mind catch up to being awake. Morning light slips through the blinds, throwing stripes across my wall and lighting up my posters-the usual lineup of basketball legends staring down at me.

I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, and there it is: my basketball, right by my sneakers where I left it last night. Just seeing it reminds me of practice later today, of the sound the ball makes hitting the court, of that rush when I sink a shot. I already feel the itch to get out there, to put in a few shots before school if I have time.

Grabbing my phone, I scroll through a couple of messages. Mark's already hyped about practice, and I can't help but grin a little. Today might just be another day, but the court is waiting, and that's enough for me.

After a quick shower, I threw on my usual hoodie and jeans, grabbed my basketball, and headed downstairs. The house was eerily quiet-probably because everyone else was either still asleep or already gone for the day.

In the kitchen, I rummaged through the cabinets and grabbed a granola bar, barely paying attention to what I was doing. I shoved the granola bar into my pocket and slipped out the front door.

The cool morning air hit me the moment I stepped outside, and for a second, I just stood there, letting it wake me up properly. The city was already alive with the sounds of traffic, the distant hum of cars and buses reminding me that I wasn't the only one dragging myself through the day. I started walking, taking the familiar route toward Willow Creek University.

As I dodged the occasional cluster of students and early morning commuters, my thoughts drifted back to my art. What would I sketch today? There was that unfinished painting I needed to get back to... maybe I'd figure out how to fix the shading if I spent some time on it later.

By the time I reached campus, the familiar buzz of activity surrounded me. Groups of students were scattered across the lawn, some heading to class, others laughing with friends. It was always like this at this time of day-noisy but strangely comforting, like the world was waking up with me.

I spot Mark leaning against his car in the parking lot, scrolling through his phone. As I approach, he looks up, grins, and raises a hand.

"Yo, Jake!" he calls out. "Ready to dominate on the court today?"

I chuckle, shrugging my backpack higher on my shoulder. "You know it. Been working on my jump shot. You might not be able to keep up this time."

Mark laughs, shaking his head. "Big talk for a guy who missed three shots in a row last time."

"Hey, that was just an off day," I say, rolling my eyes. "Today's different."

He pushes off the car, joining me as we head toward the entrance. "So, you're saying I should be scared?"

"Only if you don't wanna get schooled." I give him a playful shove.

Mark raises an eyebrow, pretending to look serious. "Alright, we'll see. Just don't be mad when I'm the one sinking threes and making you look bad."

"Dream on, man," I say, laughing. "You'll be lucky if you even get the ball."

Mark and I are heading down the hall, talking about the game last night, when I notice someone weaving through the crowd, headed right for us. It's Michelle, looking focused-until she spots us and breaks into a smile.

"There you two are," she says, reaching us. "Mark, you forgot your notes in the library. Again."

Mark rubs the back of his neck, giving her a sheepish smile. "You're a lifesaver, Michelle. Seriously, I don't know what I'd do without you."

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