The gym went silent, the sound of the impact still ringing in everyone’s ears.
Betty froze, her hands flying to her mouth. Stacey, however, was already moving, vaulting over the railing and sprinting onto the court.
"Brent, oh my God!" she cried, dropping to her knees beside him.
The paramedics rushed onto the court, their movements swift and precise as they assessed his injuries. Brent groaned through gritted teeth, his face contorted in agony as he clutched his knee, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts as the pain overwhelmed him. Blood seeped from a jagged gash where his leg had scraped against the floor, and his right leg bent at an angle that wasn’t natural.
Stacey brushed his damp hair from his forehead, her hands trembling. "You’re okay," she whispered, tears streamed down her face. "You’re going to be okay. Just breathe!"
Betty remained frozen in the bleachers, her stomach twisting painfully as the scene unfolded. She barely noticed Marcus stepping forward until his voice broke through the murmurs of the stunned crowd.
"Coach! What’s the plan?"
Coach Thompson hesitated, his eyes darting between Brent, the stunned players, and the scoreboard. Finally, he looked at Marcus, something resolute settling in his expression.
"You’re captain now," he said firmly. "Take them home."
Marcus nodded, his jaw tightening as he turned to the rest of the team.
Betty’s breath caught as she watched Marcus take charge, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by a calm determination. She glanced back at Stacey, who was still kneeling beside Brent, her tearful gaze locked on him as the paramedics carefully lifted him onto a stretcher.
The gym, once roaring with energy, was now eerily quiet, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on everyone.
Marcus clapped his hands together, his voice ringing out across the court. "Listen up! We’ve got five minutes. Let’s finish this."