Bigger Than The Program

[The JZA]

[Agent]

Looks like a pretty even matchup ahead

[The JZA]

[The JZA]

Looks like a pretty even matchup ahead

Twas anything but even. O-Line ate in that game, made some lanes but I don't think if we got that safety we'd be looking at the same results.

The dynamic weather is cool. Used it to our advantage. Ran in the rain, passed when it stopped. Jukes is nasty in the weather. My RB juked their LB and slipped, got hit and fumbled, was lucky to recovered that lol

[The JZA]

All The Things She Said
(SZN 1 , EPI 13)

Sunday afternoon laid itself across the Bronx like an it was taking a load off it's feet. The sun remained high enough to warm exposed skin, but the wind had teeth now. Nothing vicious. Nothing that demanded winter coats or gloves dug from the backs of closets. Just a clean, cool breeze moving through the neighborhood, reminding everybody that summer had finally lost the argument. Across the street from Bethel Global Methodist Church, Cooney Grauer Field sat between faith and traffic. The park was not large enough to feel important. A baseball diamond occupied one end, its dirt worn pale around the bases. Two basketball courts filled the other, enclosed behind chain-link fencing that had been bent, patched, and bent again over years of bodies crashing into it. One rim leaned slightly lower than the other, creating arguments whenever a shot rattled differently than expected.

Beyond the field, the Major Deegan Expressway dragged northbound traffic through the afternoon. Brake lights stretched along the lanes as a collision farther up had reduced movement to a crawl, because there was no other reasonable explanation for the Deegan to be backed up on a Sunday. Drivers leaned on horns that accomplished nothing.

Church service had not yet ended. The steps across the street remained mostly empty, but music occasionally escaped whenever the front doors opened. Organ notes. Tambourines. A choir reaching the end of something powerful before the doors shut and returned the block to traffic, bouncing basketballs, and distant sirens.

The courts were full or empty depending on how generously someone defined basketball. On one end, several children launched shots with both hands from their chests, the ball rarely reaching the rim. On the other, teenagers argued over fouls . A man in sweatpants practiced dribble combinations along the sideline without ever attempting to score.

Kareem had claimed a basket near the far fence. Basketball season was approaching quickly enough to sharpen every repetition. The schedule had finally been released and Kennedy would open against the DeWitt Clinton Governors.

The name alone had changed Kareem’s energy.

Clinton had embarrassed the Knights the previous season. Not merely defeated them. Embarrassed them, 86-45. The kind of loss that opposing players referenced whenever they crossed paths during summer tournaments. Kareem understood exactly what Cortez had felt preparing for Tottenville.

Different court. Same scar.

He moved through shots without wasting motion.

One dribble left. Pull-up. Net.

Catch near the wing. Pivot. Release. Net again.

His size made every movement look slower than it actually was. At six-foot-five and carrying enough strength to punish guards in the post, Kareem could have relied on his body. Instead, he worked on balance, foot placement, and release points as if somebody had told him size would disappear the moment college scouts entered the gym.

Cortez gathered rebounds, passing the ball back. His body remained on the court. His mind had wandered somewhere beyond the fence.

Kareem noticed after the third pass arrived too low. Then after Cortez stared past him while the ball bounced toward the sideline, Kareem caught another pass and rose from the elbow. The jumper fell cleanly. He retrieved the ball and looked toward his best friend.

Cortez’s eyes had settled on no specific object. Somewhere between the expressway and the church, his attention had disconnected from everything directly in front of him.

“What's up money?” Kareem’s voice cut through the ambient noise. A basketball struck the neighboring backboard. A child shouted for a foul no one acknowledged. “You lost in the sauce? What's going on with you?”

Cortez blinked and redirected his eyes. “Hm? Nothing.”

He ran one hand over his face, dragging himself back into the afternoon. “Just got some shit on my mind I'm trying to process.”

Despair lived inside the admission despite the attempt to make it sound casual. Kareem took another shot. Cortez gathered the made shot and sent it back with a bounce pass.

Kareem caught the ball against his hip before deciding to break his rhythm.

“Nah. Try again.” He walked toward the sideline and retrieved his water bottle. Cortez remained beneath the basket while Kareem drank, allowing the silence to become uncomfortable enough to demand honesty.

“You been quiet for a minute. And you definitely been acting weird lately. So what's really going on, bro? And don't give me that 'nothing' bullshit, Lauri already clued me in.”

Cortez’s hands slipped halfway into his pockets. The directness eliminated several excuses before he had the chance to use them.

Kareem had known him too long. Lauri had already reached out and there was no version of the conversation where Cortez escaped cleanly.

“Man, I'm just going through some shit, that's all. School, Jennessa, college recruits, you know how it is.”

Half the truth. Enough real details arranged together to resemble an answer.

School tests were starting to pop up left and right, Jennessa remained a problem while recruiters had transformed every performance into a public examination. Cortez hoped the collection might satisfy Kareem.

But It didn't.

Kareem placed the basketball between his shoes and lowered himself onto it, balancing his weight as though the ball had become a small stool. He fixed Cortez with the patient stare he normally reserved for teammates lying badly.

“Bro. We've been tight since the fifth grade. You really think I can't tell when you're giving me the half version?” No accusation entered his voice.

That made the question harder to avoid. “School and recruits? That's regular season stress. This is something else. You've been in your head all week even before you left for Boston, and Lauri's been worried about you. So let's cut the bull. What happened?”

Cortez’s jaw tightened. “Yo, it's nothing, aight?”

The snap lacked heat. His frustration was not aimed at Kareem. That did not prevent Kareem from receiving it.

“I don't need you getting dragged up in my mess. It's just some family shit.”

Kareem’s expression changed. Not wounded exactly, but offended.

“Oh, so I'm not family anymore?” The question crossed the space faster than any pass Cortez had thrown all season.

“You're the one who said that blood couldn't make us anymore brothers than we are... But apparently you do have a line you draw...”

Cortez had no rebuttal. He remembered saying it. They had been younger, though not young enough for the words to mean less. Somebody had made a comment about Kareem practically living at Antonio’s house. Cortez had answered before thinking. Blood could not make them more like brothers than they already were. The sentence became one of those things both carried without needing to mention again. Kareem had proven it repeatedly. When he first developed feelings for Jennessa and realized she preferred Cortez, Kareem had stepped back without allowing jealousy to poison the friendship. He did not gossip. Did not sabotage. Did not wait for cracks inside their relationship so he could enter through one.

He respected the choice, even more he respected Cortez.

Whenever football broke Cortez down, Kareem helped rebuild him. When Kareem’s recruiting pressure became too heavy, Cortez returned the favor. They competed in Antonio’s gym, argued over sports, insulted each other’s clothes, and defended one another with the kind of instinct that required no discussion. Kareem had never stole on Cortez. He never lied where loyalty mattered, nor never treated the word brother like decoration. He was just the same to him and Lauri as Lauri was to them both. At least Cortez had believed that until the photograph.

He released a long breath and moved toward the fence. The chain links pressed coldly against his back as he leaned against them. Beyond the courts, church service ended. The large doors opened and people began spilling onto the steps in polished shoes, bright dresses, dark suits, and hats wide enough to create their own weather.

Cortez stared across the afternoon. “I think Jennessa and Lauri may have had a thing behind my back...”

Kareem’s eyebrows rose. For the first time since the conversation began, his controlled expression disappeared.

The news struck him squarely in the chest. “Hold up... run that back? Lauri and Jennessa?”

He stood so quickly that the basketball rolled away from beneath him. “Nah, bro, that's... that's wild. You sure? Like, you got proof or you just piecing stuff together?”

“Jenn been nipping at my heels since our break-up. But...” Cortez paused. The confession had traveled far enough that retrieving it was no longer possible. Still, part of him wanted to stop before the photograph entered someone else’s eyes.

“Last week, when my Moms came over to try and "reconcile", she send me a photo...”

He removed his phone. The image had been stored inside his gallery where he could reach it too easily. Cortez opened it without searching, proof of how often he had returned during the week. He handed the phone to Kareem with no explanation following.

None was necessary.

Kareem examined the picture, seeing the same as Cortez. Jennessa holding the drink, smiling. Lauri’s body pressed close. Her face inside the curve of Jennessa’s neck.

Curiosity drained from Kareem’s face with something colder to replace it. He remained silent for several seconds, studying the screen as though another detail might appear if he stared long enough.

“Man... Lauri? For real?” Kareem handed the phone back. The disbelief remained visible.

“That don't even sound like her. She's always been ride or die for you. You sure this ain't some photoshop shit? Jennessa's been known to move shady.”

“I know, fam. But I don't think Jenn would stoop this low. Lauri looked at her like a sister... So I thought.” The statement sounded weak even to Cortez.

He had accused Jennessa of enough during the breakup: lying. Manipulating. Rewriting events to protect herself.

Yet some line inside him still resisted believing she would fabricate a photograph involving Lauri. Jennessa might twist context, she might hide pieces, but creating the image from nothing felt different. Then again, betrayal often survived by depending on what people believed someone would never do.

Kareem rubbed the back of his neck. The situation challenged everything he knew about their circle. Lauri had always been solid. Aggressive when necessary and loud even when unnecessary. But she was loyal. The idea that she might sneak behind his back with Jennessa felt incompatible with the person Kareem knew.

But the photograph remained.

“Look, I ain't tryna defend nobody without knowing the full story,” Kareem chose each word carefully. “But people do stupid things when feelings get involved. You know that better than most.”

His eyes remained on Cortez. “Question is — what you gonna do about it? You gonna confront her? Sit on it? Because walking around with this weight ain't gonna help your season, and it definitely won't help things between you and Lauri, bro.”

“You think I don't know that?” Cortez looked at him.

“You think I don't think about it? It crosses my mind ten thousand times a day. I see her face everyday and night. Every time I think about a solution to resolve the awkwardness, I always come to the line I don't want to cross. I don't want to validate that Lauri would do me dirty like that...”

He pushed himself away from the fence. “I just don't know what to believe right now.”

Kareem watched him. He did not rush to fill the silence as he had allowed the moment to breathe.

“Aight, look. You got two choices, bro. You either let this eat you alive from the inside. You gonna show up to practice distracted, throw you off your game, and let Jennessa win. Or...”

He forced Cortez to meet his eyes. “You go straight to the source. You sit Lauri down, you show her the same photo you showed me, and you let her explain. No accusing. No assuming. You give her the chance to tell her side before you convict her.”

Cortez knew. He had delivered the same argument to himself. Whether he faced Jennessa or Lauri, the result would involve something becoming real. There was no clean version. No conversation capable of returning everyone to the positions they occupied before the party. Once Cortez showed Lauri the image, the silence between them would gain a name. If she admitted wrongdoing, something permanent would break. If she denied it, he would still have to decide whether to believe her over what his eyes appeared to show.

“Why can't none this shit be simple?”



———————————————



Evening settled over Kingsbridge Terrace by the time Cortez and Kareem separated. They had walked back together from the park, speaking about basketball, football, college visits, and anything else capable of filling the distance without returning to the photograph. Near Kareem’s crib, they exchanged a dap. There were no dramatic encouragement, no final instruction. Kareem’s eyes said enough: handle it.

Cortez continued toward Antonio’s house down the block. His uncle’s car was not parked along the street or anywhere in the vicinity. Antonio might have been at the gym since his day job Mavis was already closed after hours or somewhere doing his own thing.

Either way, the absence created an opportunity. No extra ears, no adult voice attempting to mediate before either sibling finished speaking.

Cortez stopped near the sidewalk and looked toward the second floor where Lauri’s bedroom window glowed. She was home. The decision had already been made on the basketball court. His body still resisted carrying it through the door though.

When Cortez entered, the house was silent. Not a peaceful silent. The silence had changed inside the rooms since Evelyn’s dinner. Her apology, Jennessa’s message, and the image that followed had left something behind. The living room felt colder despite the heating system. The dining table seemed larger than it had before everyone sat around it attempting to repair the family. The house had always represented safety and welcoming. Now, it just felt off, a different evil was lurking about.

Cortez removed his shoes and crossed the living room. At the bottom of the stairs, he raised his voice. “Lauri! Let me talk to you in the kitchen.”

After a few moments, movement came from above. Cortez entered the kitchen while she made her way downstairs. He opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of Sparkling Ice. The condensation chilled his palm as he pop the tab and sat at the table.

Lauri appeared at the kitchen entrance. Gray sweatpants hung loosely from her hips. A cropped black hoodie exposed a narrow strip of skin above the waistband. Her twin braids had lost their usual precision, several sections slightly frayed from hours spent lying in bed.

Her expression remained guarded. Unreadable by anyone who had not spent a lifetime learning it.

Cortez could read enough. She was irritated. Hurt. And most likely prepared for whatever explanation had taken him an entire week to offer.

“You called?” No warmth entered the question as she leaned against the frame and folded her arms.

Cortez registered every defensive angle without reacting.

“Sit with me. I want to talk.”

Lauri remained where she was. Her weight shifted toward one hip while she studied his face like text printed too faintly to understand.

“Talk.” The word carried accusation. “Now you wanna talk. After a whole week of nothing.”

She pushed away from the frame. Her feet dragged toward the table. The chair scraped hard against the floor before she dropped into it, slouching with both arms still folded.

“What is it?”

Cortez paused, letting a sip of his drink quench his thirst to clear his throat, though nothing could clear the pressure behind the words.

“First off, I want to say that I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable lately. I've been... beside myself for the past week, just trying to process shit...”

He searched for the right entrance, but there was none.

“You still remember all the details that happened at that party you went to with Jennessa, right?”

The name changed Lauri instantly. Her eyes narrowed. Both hands moved from her folded position and pressed against the tabletop.

“Jennessa.” The name left her mouth like a curse. “That's what this is about? You been icing me out for a WEEK over her?”

A humorless laugh escaped as she leaned back. “Yeah, I remember every detail. I already told you what happened. She was all over some dude at that party, right in front of my face, knowing damn well you two had history. I got heated because she was being disrespectful to YOU. That's it. That's the whole story.”

Cortez nodded without speaking. The frustration arrived exactly as expected.

Lauri was tired of Jennessa. Tired of hearing the name. Tired of watching her remain present in Cortez’s life despite the breakup. Even in absence, Jennessa controlled the atmosphere inside rooms she had never entered.

“You sure that's all that happened? You're positively certain?” Cortez asked.

Lauri’s palms pressed harder against the table, the skin across her knuckles lightened. She stared at Cortez as though he had presented a question without enough information to solve it.

“Positively certain? Bro, what is this — an interrogation? You think I'm hiding something from you?”

Her chair shot backward. The legs screeched against linoleum as she stood. Her arms remained rigid beside her body, fingers curled into loose fists.

“I told you everything that night. Right after it happened. You know I don't lie to you, Cortez. Not about stuff like this.”

Her answer reached Cortez while he held himself still. Kareem’s warning had reminded him: no accusing, no assuming. Give her the chance to explain.

Cortez reached for his phone. Lauri watched every movement. He opened the gallery and returned to the image. Before placing it down, Cortez stared once more at the picture. Lauri’s face near Jennessa’s neck, Jennessa smiling, the closeness. He set the phone against the table and pushed it across. The phone slid over the surface and stopped directly in front of Lauri. Cortez looked up, watching her face rather than the image.

For one terrible second, nothing moved. The anger drained from Lauri’s posture as though someone had opened a valve inside her. Her eyes lost their sharpness. She blinked once.

“Where... where did you get that?” Her voice became smaller.

Confused, she picked up the phone with trembling fingers and enlarged the picture. Her face moved closer to the screen as if proximity might reveal whether the image was real.

Then Lauri looked at Cortez.

“Nah. You know what? You really think I'd do you like that? You think I'd slide behind your back with HER of all people? Jennessa? The same girl who been playing games behind YOUR back? That's what we on now?”

Cortez remained quiet, reading her disposition. The initial shock. The anger returning once she understood what he believed.

“Then what is it?” He allowed the question to sit. “...Black crop top and fishnet, baggy jeans, white kicks... Is that not what you wore at the party? Is that not you?”

Lauri’s jaw tightened when her eyes returned to the phone. “Yeah. That's me. That's what I wore. I ain't denying that.”

She placed the phone faceup on the table. The photograph remained between them like evidence submitted during trial. “But you looking at a snapshot, Cortez. You don't know what happened before or after.”

Lauri sat again. Her eyes moved away from him as she reconstructed the night.

“She came up behind me and grabbed my waist. Whispered some dumb shit in my ear about how she 'missed the old us' or whatever. I was mid-laugh about to pull away. That picture?”

Lauri struck the screen with one finger. “That's her catching me off guard. That's her pressing up on me. That's not me kissing her neck like she probably told you.”

She leaned back and folded her arms more tightly. Her voice remained controlled, but a tremor moved beneath it.

“I ain't gonna sit here and defend myself against some cropped screenshot she sent you. You wanna know what happened? Ask me. Don't come at me with evidence like I'm on trial.”

Cortez rested one elbow against the chair. His fist rose, covering his mouth while he listened.

He attempted to place Lauri’s explanation over the photograph, but the uncertainty remained. Jennessa had said the image proved Lauri was not innocent. Lauri said the image captured her being caught off-guard. Both stories used the same frozen second.

Silence sat between the siblings. Cortez looked at Lauri, but she looked away.

He tried to determine whether her anger came from being exposed or from being doubted by the one person she believed should trust her automatically. Before Cortez could speak, the phone vibrated against the tabletop.

Both looked down. The phone buzzed again.

Evelyn’s name flashed above the photograph.

The interruption felt absurd. Another Terrano problem arriving before the current one finished breathing.

Lauri reach for the phone and accepted the call, “Hello?”

Evelyn answered immediately, her voice sharp with surprise.

“Lauri? Hey sweetie, why are you answering your brother's phone? Is he with you?”

Lauri looked at Cortez, half accused and half exhausted.

“Yeah, Ma. He's right here. We're in the kitchen. What's up?” Some of the sharpness left Lauri’s voice, though tension remained wound through every word.

“I was just checking in. Called you first but you didn't pick up, so I figured you might be with your brother.” Evelyn paused. Her instincts caught something the explanation had not covered. “What's going on over there? You sound... off.”

Lauri kept her eyes on Cortez. “Nah, Ma. Everything's fine. Just having a little sibling chat, that's all.”

She added false lightness. “You know how it is. He's being dramatic, I'm being reasonable. The usual.”

The attempt failed to sound convincing. Lauri finally looked away and turned slightly from the table.

“Hm.” Evelyn understood the lie. She did not press. She promised to give Lauri space remained fresh enough to restrain her curiosity.

“Well, I had called to tell y'all some news. Is Cortez near you? Can he hear me?”

“Yeah Ma, I'm here.” Cortez raised his voice toward the phone. “You're on speaker.”

“Oh! Well good, I'm glad.” Energy entered Evelyn’s voice. The particular brightness she developed whenever she had carried news long enough to imagine everyone’s reaction.

“So I got in touch with your Aunt Beverly a few days ago. It's been almost twenty years since we last saw each other. She wants us to come out to Cali for Thanksgiving. All three of us. She already said she'd cover the flights and everything.”

Evelyn waited. The reaction did not come quickly enough.

“Now before y'all start coming up with excuses, really think about it. It's still a month away, so it's not like I'm springing up on y'all. But I was thinking we could all go together, get away from the city, get away from these problem over ours and just take a breather and be around other family.”

Cortez looked toward Lauri. The conversation they had been having remained unfinished on the table beside the phone. California entered the kitchen like a door opening into another building.

Aunt Beverly. Neither sibling recognized the name.

“Beverly? I didn't know you had a sister.” Cortez searched his memory, not recalling any photographs inside Evelyn’s apartment.

“I got a whole family y'all don't know about. But she got married and moved out of New York before either of you were born. But that's not the point.”

Evelyn’s tone tightened. The question had brushed against territory she was not prepared to explain. “The point is, she reached out. After all these years. And she wants to see y'all. Her niece and nephew.”

A pause allowed the information to settle. “Now I know things been... tense. Between all of us. And I'm not trying to pretend like everything's fixed just 'cause we get on a plane and eat some turkey. But maybe some distance from all this and clear our heads. Be around family that ain't been caught up in all our mess. Maybe we way back to each other.”

California. Cortez had never traveled that far west. His known family map stopped around Connecticut, New York, and New Jersey. Florida existed as a vague possibility because every family seemed to have somebody who had moved there after deciding cold weather was enough for them or the retirement years had been calling.

California belonged to television, palm trees, sunset over beaches. A different coast with glitz and glamour.

Then another thought arrived: USC.

Cortez's name was becoming more popular than he cared to acknowledge. He was now a top 25 prospect in the nation and number 1 in the state of New York. Bigger schools had began to seek him out. Arkansas, Miami, Michigan, Notre Dame, Ohio State, USC, Texas, and Virginia Tech. But Southern California stood apart. An invitation had already reached him, though the logistics made the visit feel more imaginary than Boston College or Rutgers. Evelyn’s unknown sister offered to cover the trip during Thanksgiving.

New state. New family. A campus visit completed during the same journey. The timing felt too precise to ignore.

But none of it erased the 'state of affairs'. Lauri’s explanation still occupied the kitchen. Jennessa remained inside the phone. Trust had not been repaired because another subject entered the conversation. But Cortez understood scale. This invitation extended beyond the argument.

He looked toward Lauri. “What do you think? You want to go to California?”

Lauri exhaled slowly. The abrupt change left her disoriented. Minutes earlier, she had been defending herself against the suggestion that she betrayed Cortez with Jennessa. Now an aunt she had never heard of wanted to fly them across the country for Thanksgiving.

“I mean...” Lauri glanced toward Cortez, then at the phone. “I ain't gonna lie, Ma. This is kinda outta nowhere. You got a whole sister we never heard about and now she wants to fly us out for Thanksgiving? That's... something.”

Her fingers drummed against the table. "It could be cool. Get out the city for a minute, clear my head.”

Lauri’s eyes found Cortez again. She searched for what he actually thought beneath the calm expression. Whether the question had become an excuse to avoid returning to the picture, whether he believed her or whether the trip meant they would pretend nothing had happened until California.

“Well, I can't exactly book three tickets without knowing if my son's coming or not. Cortez, what do you think? You willing to get on that plane and see another side of the country for once in your life?” Evelyn awaited Cortez's answer.

Cortez looked toward the Sparkling Ice. The condensation had gathered into a ring beneath the bottle. Then he looked at the phone. The call timer continued counting.

“Yeah, sure. I'll go.” Silence followed.

Evelyn had expected resistance. Her next response arrived lighter.

“Well alright then. Both of y'all on board.” She sounded as if she could already see them boarding the plane. “I'll call Beverly back tonight and let her know we're coming. She's gonna be thrilled.”

Another pause. Shorter.

“And hey... thank you. Both of you. I know things ain't been smooth sailing around here, but this? This means something to me...”

Neither sibling answered immediately. The sincerity in Evelyn’s voice felt unfamiliar enough to require examination. California appeared to mean more than a vacation somehow. But for now, the road to California had left a month left between the future and the present. The relationship between the Terrano siblings had threatened boundaries neither wanted to cross, but situations didn't care for feelings, it didn't care for who was going to hurt the most. It just cared about the truth and consequences.

National Rank: 25 | State Rank: 1 | Position Rank: 5
Interests: Arizona State, Arkansas, Baylor, Boston College, Duke, Houston, Kansas State, Louisville, Miami, Michigan, Missouri, NC State, Notre Dame, Ohio State, Pittsburgh, Purdue, Rutgers, SMU, South Carolina, Texas, Tulane, UCF, USC, USF, Utah, Vanderbilt, Virginia Tech, Wake Forest

[djp73]

some interesting school choices there

what's y'all season stats looking like?

[Soapy]

Go Canes

[redsox907]

see the thing is, he gave her the chance to explain that shit and she waited until he had proof to drop it. there's more there

[The JZA]

The First Of Many, The Last Of Few
(SZN 1 , EPI 14)

Cortez Terrano and the JFK Campus Knights were sitting pretty. Five wins, one loss and five victories without a blemish inside the PSAL 4A League. The record looked clean when printed beside Kennedy’s name. It looked even better when spread across social media graphics decorated with school colors, action shots, and captions announcing the Knights as one of the city’s teams to watch.

Cortez knew better than to become comfortable.

A record was only a photograph of where a team had already been. It did not promise anything about the road ahead. The Knights traveled into Brooklyn again to face Canarsie, another school trying to survive the middle of the 4A standings. The Wolfpack sat at 3–3, close enough to respectability to believe an upset could transform its season and far enough from the top to understand another loss might bury it. They arrived hungry, motivated, bearing fangs and all. But Kennedy didn't flinch, only bearing down sharper.

From the first possession, the difference between the two teams became visible. Canarsie’s defense attempted to disguise pressure by showing one shell and rotating into another after the snap. Linebackers crept toward the line, then dropped. Safeties moved late. Cornerbacks played outside leverage and tried forcing Kennedy’s receivers toward help. Cortez read everything. He stood in the shotgun with calm eyes and violence waiting inside his left arm. The first completion went underneath, then second attacked the sideline. The third came after Cortez held the middle safety with his eyes and fired behind him before the coverage understood it had been moved.

The Knights drove, Canarsie back down on their heels.

Pat Gage became the answer the Wolfpack could not solve. He worked return routes against defensive backs convinced they had forced him vertically. Gage accelerated, sold the deeper pattern, then snapped back toward Cortez before the defender could gather his feet.

The ball arrived on time. Every time.

On crossing routes, Gage disappeared beneath the coverage and emerged in open space. Canarsie’s defensive backs followed receivers into man assignments while the shaded safety remained too deep to interfere with anything underneath. Cortez accepted the invitations. Seven yards, twelve yards, eighteen after the catch. The first touchdown came before Canarsie understood which adjustment it needed. The second made the uncertainty worse. When the defense backed away to protect itself from Kennedy’s aerial attack, the ground game woke up.

RPOs forced linebackers to choose between the running back and Cortez. Play-action pulled defenders toward the handoff before Cortez kept the football and slipped through the space they abandoned. He didn't run recklessly. He took what existed and kept the ball moving meticulously. A clear lane through the middle, the edge when the defensive end crashed. A first down when the secondary turned its back in coverage. Each scramble punished Canarsie for becoming too afraid of his arm.

By halftime, the Wolfpack’s sideline had begun looking toward its coaches for answers that did not exist. Cortez continued throwing, Pat continued catching. Four of Kennedy’s five passing touchdowns ended inside Gage’s hands. Nine receptions for one hundred seventy-two yards. By the fourth touchdown, Canarsie’s defensive backs were no longer talking after plays. No clapping their hands. No accusations about who had missed an assignment, only silence and heavy breathing.

Cortez completed twenty-seven of thirty-nine attempts. Three hundred one yards for five touchdowns. Numbers worthy of the star beside his name. Numbers worthy of the new ranking that had placed him among the top twenty-five athletes in the country.

When the final whistle arrived, the scoreboard read 42–13.

Kennedy had not escaped Brooklyn with a victory as they did in Staten Island against Port Richmond, this one was taken with conviction. Their confidence no longer resembled the temporary high, but rather became expectation.

The players felt it. The coaches felt it.

This year might be the year Kennedy survived beyond the first round. The possibility was dangerous as hope. The previous season, Lincoln had ended Kennedy’s run 51–36. The year before that, Tottenville had delivered the familiar blow, 43–16. The season before that, the Curtis Warriors had sent the Knights away 30–24. Three postseason appearances that followed three immediate exits in Cortez's varsity career. Every year, Kennedy fought through the regular season only to discover the playoffs required another version of itself. Fourteen teams in the 4A division and only eight of them would eventually see one another again.

The familiarity made the tournament violent. There were no mysteries left. Teams remembered habits, formations, injuries, and weaknesses from earlier meetings. Every rematch became an argument about which program had actually improved.

For Cortez, the state tournament was the real season. Everything before it built evidence while the playoffs delivered judgment. Each early exit had followed him into the offseason. The drives he failed to complete, the throws he wanted back, the moments when Kennedy appeared close enough to escape before the door slammed shut. Those failures sharpened him. Now the pressure came from more than his teammates and neighborhood. Cortez had become the number-one athlete in New York State. College programs that once ignored his messages were calling Kennedy directly. Recruiting analysts who had never written his name began discussing his athleticism, improvisation, leadership, and long-term ceiling.

Every game became a recommendation letter written in real time. Each touchdown added a signature. Each interception invited another critical eye. A bad read was no longer simply a bad read. It became evidence for a quarterback coach deciding whether Cortez could process college defenses. A scramble was no longer simply a first down. It became proof that his legs could rescue a broken pocket.

Two games remained in the regular season. Two final opportunities to speak before the playoffs began.

Cortez wanted one final message delivered clearly: Kennedy was not entering the tournament to participate. The Knights intended to remain and stake a claim.



———————————————



October 31st arrived with masks hanging from faces and bad decisions waiting behind them. Halloween belonged to everybody depending on what kind of spirit they carried. For children, it meant plastic buckets, cheap costumes, and running from stoop to stoop while parents warned them not to eat anything opened. For teenagers, it meant house parties, liquor poured into bottles designed to hide it, and costumes chosen according to how little explanation they required. For adults, it meant a different type of sweetness, a different type of eye candy that club promoters took advantage of.

Cortez had not loved Halloween for a while, as one night had been enough to damage the tradition.

He, Kareem, Lauri, and Jennessa had attended a park party years earlier. The evening had started smoothly. Music. Candy. Costumes. The four moving through the crowd as though the night had been created specifically for them. Cortez and Jennessa dressed up as Max and Roxanne from the Goofy movie. Kareem dressed up as T.J. Ford in his infamous Bucks uniform with the long shorts damn near at the ankles. Lauri ripped into him about his low effort costume while she was literally dressed as the 8-Ball guy from the viral subway clip.

Then Jennessa approached Cortez and told him somebody wearing a Saw mask had touched her.

That was all Cortez needed.

He searched the park until he located the costume that fit Jennessa's description. Black suit, white mask and red spirals across the cheeks. Yup, you guessed it, Billy the Puppet.

The teenager had barely turned before Cortez swung. He never asked the question that might have prevented everything, he just flew off the handle.. The mask came loose, clanking to the ground. Turns out that the perp was the wrong person. The boy beneath it wore the same costume and had no idea why a stranger had punched him.

Explanation became impossible after retaliation arrived.

After the fight broke out, one teenager joined. Kareem entered when the numbers changed. Lauri tried to follow, but Jennessa held her back. Phones appeared above the crowd, recording the fight from every available angle. Adults assigned to monitor the event fought their way toward the center, but spectators tightened around the court, protecting the violence long enough to collect usable footage.

Cortez threw one punch too wide and his knuckles struck the metal pole supporting the basket and the pain exploded through his hand.

Cortez spent nearly a year nursing a busted hand in junior high. He was lucky it had not been his throwing arm or then this would be a different story.

While the scar healed, the lesson remained: sometimes it's best to ask questions first.

Since then, Cortez had treated Halloween like a holiday best observed from a safe distance.

But that did not mean he intended to waste the evening.

He spent most of the day at Kareem’s place playing video games and talking shit. By late afternoon, Cortez left the Bronx, meeting Maria downtown. They met in NoHo, where they walked and talked toward Ramen Takumi. The city had cooled enough for breath to become faintly visible whenever the wind strengthened. Maria wore a cardigan pulled close around her frame. Her sleek bob moved across her cheek with each gust before settling back into place.

They collected takeout from the Japanese restaurant; A Lion Kong roll for Cortez and Takoyaki for Maria. Then they moved toward Washington Square Park as evening slowly began laying itself over Lower Manhattan. Streetlights awakened one after another. The fountain continued running despite the mild cool temperature, seeing it's last days before being shut down until for the upcoming winter, Inside Garibaldi Plaza, an NYPD floodlight stood near a barricade, pouring artificial daylight across part of the park. Two officers remained beneath a tree across from it, observing the people watchers who were... people watching.

He and Maria found a bench near the Garibaldi statue and opened the containers across their laps, watching the steam rise into the autumn air. For several minutes, they ate while the park performed around them.

Cortez glanced toward Maria. The time between their meetings had felt longer than it actually was.

“How've you been lately since we last linked up? Everything's been good with you?”

The October air carried enough crispness to make Maria pull her cardigan tighter with one hand while balancing the food with the other.

“Good. Busy, but good.” She placed one of the battered octopus balls into her mouth and chewed before continuing.

“Midterms wrapped up last week, so I've been catching up on sleep. And laundry. And... honestly, just staring at my ceiling for a few hours.”

A faint smirk touched her lips. “What about you? Senior year keeping you on your toes? Or are you coasting now that football season's in full swing?”

“Damn, midterms got your brain fried like that?” Cortez laughed lazily.

He attempted to lift a section of the Lion Kong roll with the chopsticks. The piece rose halfway, rotated, and dropped back into the container.

Maria watched.

Cortez tried again with more concentration. The sushi slipped free. He stared at the chopsticks as if the utensils had violated an agreement, then abandoned them for the plastic fork.

Maria made no comment as a knowing smile crossed her face. Her own chopsticks moved with practiced ease, which somehow made the silence worse.

“Things has been going, to say the least. Just been some pieces in my life that needs shuffling and reevaluation. Football has been the smooth for the most part. Getting some offers, some campus visits. Safe to say it's been busy for me as well.”

Maria studied him. “Pieces that need shuffling,”

She speared another piece of takoyaki while steam curled from it. “That's a diplomatic way of saying things are complicated.”

Her eyes moved toward him from the corner. “You don't have to elaborate if you don't want to. But I'm listening if you do.”

Cortez acknowledged the offer with a slight movement of his head. He appreciated the thought, but did not accept it.

Maria took another bite and allowed him the silence. “Campus visits though. That's exciting. Anywhere specific caught your attention, or are you still playing the field?”

Cortez stabbed the fork into his sushi and ate before answering. Maria read him too easily, just like how Lauri did.

Lauri had always possessed that ability because she had grown beside him. Maria had acquired it without years of practice. That made him feel exposed in a way he did not entirely dislike, but it also made vulnerability feel less optional.

“I'm still playing the field for the most part. I went to Rutgers and Boston College. I got some other dates with Kansas State and USC this Thanksgiving weekend.”

The dates carried their own weight. Programs farther from the Bronx than anything Cortez once considered realistic.

“My Mom got some family she hasn't seen in two decades in California. So I figured why not line up both occasions and kill two birds with one stone. Not sure if my heart is in it though, I might just attend the family gathering.”

Maria stopped eating. She placed the chopsticks across the container and turned more directly toward him.

“What's going on, Cortez?” This isn't like you. Every time I've seen you, you've had this... clarity. Like you know exactly where you're going and nothing's going to stop you.”

The wind pulled a strand of hair across her cheek before Maria tucked it back. The breeze immediately undid the gesture with disrespect.

“So what changed?”

“Girl, if you only knew the half.” Cortez laughed, attempting to keep the conversation from reaching the place she had already located.

Maria waited for a proper answer.

“Nothing's changed. It's just... I don't want to seem like I'm running away from problems that I do not want to deal with. There's... ex-girlfriend tension, family tension, stuff of that nature that I'm trying to navigate and put an end to the drama.”

He paused. The sunset had weakened behind the buildings, leaving a final orange light spread across Maria’s face.

“I want you to understand something about my ex... We've been broken up for some months now. We go to the same school and I do try to avoid her as much as possible. By no means do I want anything to do with her.”

The seriousness in his voice mattered. He did not want Maria wondering whether Jennessa occupied a romantic place he intended to revisit. History remained, but his desire for her did not.

“I'm not about to start spilling woes about my ex like you're my therapist. I'm not trying to kill our vibe.”

“I appreciate you telling me this,” Maria gave him a faint smile. “You didn't have to. We're still... figuring out what this is.”

She placed her container beside her on the bench and brushed away the same strand of hair that continued returning.

“But since you brought it up—the ex thing—I should tell you something too.” Her voice is steady, but there's a vulnerability beneath it that she doesn't bother hiding. ”I've never actually... done this before. The whole dating thing. Relationships.”

Cortez’s thoughts stumbled. He looked away, then back toward her. “Come on, love, you don't have to lie like that to me. I'm sure you had a boyfriend or two.”

He steadied the sushi across his lap and leaned back, wearing a smug expression as though he had already identified the joke.

Maria held his gaze. The warmth rose faintly through her cheeks, but she did not look away or retreat behind humor. She allowed the silence to stretch long enough for Cortez to understand she meant it.

“I'm not lying, Cortez.” Her composure remained, but vulnerability moved beneath it.

“I've never had a boyfriend. I've never been on a date before I met you. I've never... done any of this.”

Maria lowered her eyes toward her hands, one finger traced slowly around another.

“I spent most of high school dealing with people who made me feel like I didn't belong. By the time I got to NYU, I was so focused on my studies and my film projects that I just... never made space for anyone.”

Cortez’s smirk disappeared with the disbelief leaving with it.

“Oh...” The response arrived before he had found anything useful to say.

Silence settled between them. Cortez processed the confession that Maria had never dated, never sat across from someone and wondered what the evening meant, never moved through the beginning of something while attempting to determine what pace belonged to both people.

“Ohhh...” The second response carried a dawning realization.

Cortez ran one hand across the peach fuzz along his jaw. “And here I thought it was because your Mom pulled up on you every time a guy held your hand or something.”

A soft laugh escaped, but it faded quickly. “For real though, no boyfriend? No crush, anything?” Curiosity remained inside his expression.

Maria shook her head slowly as a wry smile appeared.

“Not a single one. Surprising, isn't it?” She leaned farther against the bench and allowed the autumn air to move around her while memory carried her somewhere else.

“I had crushes, sure. There was a boy in tenth grade who sat three rows ahead of me in history class. I spent an entire semester memorizing the back of his head.”

Maria laughed at herself. “Never said a word to him. By senior year, I'd convinced myself relationships were just... distractions. My mother certainly didn't disagree.”

She looked toward Cortez. “So when you walked up to me at Bethany's party? That was genuinely the first time a man ever approached me with intention. I had no idea what I was doing.”

Pride moved through Cortez before he could prevent it. He had been the first. The thought satisfied a part of him built from ego, but awareness followed immediately behind it.

Maria’s inexperience was not a prize, it was responsibility.

Some men would have looked at her and seen a legendary opportunity. Young. Beautiful. Intelligent. Untouched by the disappointments and compromises that relationships often left behind. Cortez saw pressure. Being someone’s first meant becoming part of the standard they might carry forward. His behavior could help define what Maria believed affection looked like. What communication should feel like. Which disappointments were ordinary and which ones should never be accepted. Cortez had already failed one relationship in ways he was only beginning to understand.

Jennessa’s betrayal did not erase his neglect and Maria deserved more than a performance from a boy excited to be first.

“Well, congratulations on being a late bloomer. You're the one mythical beast that society couldn't tame and break.”

He nodded, allowing humor to soften the seriousness. “I remember you saying you don't do casual situations, and I respect that. And I also know things aren't as serious between us... But whatever it is to be, I'm honored to be your first.”

Cortez moved one arm around Maria’s shoulders. He drew her closer slowly enough to allow refusal, but Maria settled beneath his arm while the park continued moving around them. Cortez and Maria held each other’s gaze inside the middle of it all, intimacy beginning to bud.

“I'm glad I met you that night. You've been the breath of fresh air I didn't know I needed, to be honest.” Cortez confessed.

“You know...” Maria’s voice lowered as she relaxed against him. “I spent a long time convincing myself I didn't need this. That I was better off focusing on school, on my projects, on being the person my mother expected me to be.”

She tilted her face upward, her eyes remained steady. Warm.

“And then you show up in that ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, and suddenly I'm questioning everything.”

Cortez broke into laughter immediately, following Maria. The sound loosened whatever nervousness had begun gathering between them.

“You seriously not gonna let me live that down, huh? You keep ragging on me like that, I'ma have to show you my wardrobe so you can stop trying to play me!”

He grinned. The laughter soon faded. Silence returned, no longer carrying uncertainty.

Cortez looked at Maria. He did not overthink it, not letting thoughts ruin something simple.

Cortez leaned forward and kissed her.

Not the quick contact of lips against cheek. Not a playful gesture disguised as affection. A real kiss.

Maria stiffened for half a heartbeat while surprise gestured in her shoulders. She didn't pull away. Before long, the hesitation passed.

Maria leaned into him. Her hand rose and brushed along his jaw before settling there, gentle enough to feel uncertain and present enough to answer everything he needed.

When they separated, Maria kept her eyes closed slightly longer than necessary. Her lips remained parted as a flush colored her cheeks when her eyes finally opened, breaking through the composed exterior she had maintained throughout the evening.

Cortez smiled.

“You still think you didn't need this?”

“No...” Maria paused. She pressed her lips together as though attempting to hold the sensation there. “Because I'm glad I met you too, Cortez...”

The words remained between them. So did the understanding that something had changed. Neither named it. They did not need to. The kiss was not a promise that everything ahead would be easy. Cortez still had Jennessa, Lauri, Evelyn, recruiting decisions, and a postseason waiting to test every part of him. Maria still had expectations waiting at home and an entire emotional language she had only begun learning.

But this belonged to them. A first. Perhaps the first of many.



———————————————



November entered beneath louder expectations. The final stretch of the season approached, and with every passing day the noise around Cortez increased. His ranking climbed while he slept. Recruiting pages moved his name upward after reviewing new film. Coaches contacted Kennedy. Messages entered his inbox from programs he had once watched from Antonio’s couch without imagining they might one day know he existed.

The five-star quarterback. The top athlete in New York. A must-watch national prospect.

Every label created another demand. A player ranked that highly was not allowed an ordinary bad game. Mistakes became evidence that the ranking had gone too far. Success became confirmation of what people already expected.

Cortez had spent years begging to be seen through his workouts and improvements. Now being watched required another kind of strength.

The Knights entered the second-to-last game of the regular season with six victories and only one loss. Their final two contests would be played at home, giving Kennedy a chance to build momentum without leaving the Bronx before the state playoffs. South Shore arrived intending to damage that momentum. The Vikings did not care about Kennedy’s record. They did not care about Cortez’s national ranking. They wanted to place another loss beside Randolph and send doubt through a team beginning to believe its own possibilities.

Kennedy struck first.

Zach Robert placed fourteen points on the scoreboard during the opening quarter in quick succession. The first came through a inside hand-off. Cortez handed him the football inside, expecting the line to create enough room for a modest gain. Zach Robert hit the trench with his shoulders lowered, slipped through contact, and found daylight beyond the linebackers. The field opened opened for fifty-five yards and the home crowd rose as Robert crossed the goal line.

South Shore’s next possession ended with an interception, returning the football to Kennedy and allowing the offense to attack before the Vikings recovered.

Cortez moved the Knights through the air. Quick completions. Crossing routes. The drive's final pass put them in the red zone, with enough steam to finish on the ground. Zach Robert received the handoff from three yards out and drove through the remaining traffic. Touchdown.

Fourteen unanswered points and the Knights carried the advantage into halftime.

South Shore refused to disappear though.

The Vikings returned after the break with a sharper edge. Their offense moved the football and their defense tightened. In the third quarter, they finally reached the end zone and pulled the game within one possession.

14–7.

The noise that had carried celebration became nervous encouragement. Kennedy had experienced the shift too many times throughout Cortez’s varsity career. An opponent survived the early damage.

Found one score, quieted the stands. Then began convincing itself the comeback had already started, and some teams completed it.

Cortez would not allow South Shore to join them, not this year.

Kennedy received the football and advanced toward midfield before the drive stalled. A designed quarterback run went nowhere. South Shore remained disciplined and closed the gap before Cortez could escape through it. The Knights returned to the I-formation and attempted an iso run.

The Vikings met it immediately and held the line.

Now it was 3rd and 10.

Everybody inside the stadium knew the ball needed to travel through the air.

Coaches, players, even the birds in mid glide knew it.

Cortez called Orbit Drive from Gun Empty Trio. Bradley Kuhn aligned inside. He was Kennedy’s fastest receiver and one of the most dangerous players on the roster once the ball entered his hands. In space, he forced defenders to commit their entire bodies to angles he could erase with one cut.

The snap reached Cortez and the routes developed. The play felt wrong before the defense revealed why. The MIKE linebacker maintained quarterback containment long enough to disguise his intention, then jumped the drag route as Cortez released.

Interception.

The South Shore sideline exploded. Cortez stood where the throw had left him and watched the linebacker move the other way. The error entered him immediately.

The Vikings possessed the football with a chance to tie, but fate returned the gift before South Shore could use it.

Two plays into the possession, the ball came loose and Kennedy recovered.

Another opportunity.

Cortez returned to the field carrying the interception beneath his helmet. He did not attempt to erase it with the first throw. That had been his freshman version's mistake. The old Cortez would have chased redemption so aggressively that one turnover became two.

The senior version breathed and reset.

Six plays moved Kennedy toward the South Shore's forty-three. The Knights were already close enough to consider extending the lead through a field goal, but the fourth quarter waited minutes away.

Three points would protect them, but they knew seven could break the game open.

South Shore aligned in a 4–3 front while Kennedy entered Singleback East.

Cortez studied the defense. The linebackers leaned toward the expected flow. The secondary prepared to respond to the crossing action Kennedy had shown throughout the season.

A weakness appeared and Cortez changed the assignments.

The tight end shifted into a crossing route. The Y and Z received new paths designed to carry the defense left.

Bradley Kuhn remained underneath on the drag, the same route the linebacker had intercepted earlier. This time it was different. Cortez did not abandon him. Kuhn remained the fastest player on the team and moments like this built solidify trust that was forged in practice.

The ball was snapped, Cortez dropped three steps.

The routes moved across the field, pulling defenders toward the left side. The linebackers followed the deeper action, strafing just far enough before over committing.

The catch came in stride as Kuhn moved laterally for a step, curling around the linebackers before turning vertical through the space the crossing routes had created.

The field opened and The Viking’s strong safety recognized the danger and changed direction. He arrived with enough angle to prevent the touchdown, but was met with a stiff arm. The safety tried to keep his legs under him, eventually falling with a desperate attempt to catch Kuhn by the ankle.

Kuhn continued toward the end zone busted the game wide open. Touchdown.

21–7.

The fourth quarter produced no additional points despite South Shore's attempts to respond. Kennedy’s defense simply revitalized and refused all access granted to the end zone.

When the final whistle sounded, the score remained official. The Knights had secured their seventh victory. At midfield, players exchanged handshakes before Kennedy returned toward its sideline. The celebration began before Coach Lloyd understood what the team had planned. Several players approached carrying the large container from the bench. Chilled water crashed over the coach’s head and shoulders.

Coach Lloyd reacted too late as his players scattered, laughing while he stood soaked beneath the stadium lights. The victory had not earned a championship trophy. It had not won a playoff game, but the celebration felt large anyway.

This was momentum. Cohesion. Only something that strings of wins could curate.

Coach Lloyd wiped water from his face and looked toward the players. His attention found Cortez. He had not viewed the quarterback the same way since the Randolph disaster.

Kennedy had rested Cortez and lost 67–0 to a 3A opponent. The defeat exposed more than problems with the backup. It revealed how thoroughly the offense had become tied to Cortez’s command.

That dependence concerned Coach Lloyd, but the growth behind it filled him with pride.

Kennedy was not a private-school factory built beneath wealthy donations. No politician had poured money into the training facility. No investor had purchased advanced equipment because his son wanted to look impressive inside recruiting photographs.

The weight room remained worn, the field carried scars, and players trained with what existed and made excuses with nothing.

Cortez had emerged from that environment. A backup quarterback forced into action before he was ready. A freshman burned beneath the varsity pressure. A player whose earliest film contained more warnings than promises. He could have allowed the fire to consume him, but instead, Cortez learned to fight back with it.

He reforged himself through every season. His development did not arrive in isolated flashes. It appeared through the entirety of the journey.

Footwork. Reads. Strength. Patience. Leadership. The willingness to return after interceptions without allowing fear to alter the next throw.

Coach Lloyd had watched a nobody, whom he had given an opportunity that resembled a golden ticket and treat it like responsibility instead of luck. Now Cortez Terrano stood beneath the lights as a five-star quarterback known across the nation.

Seven wins belonged beside his name. One regular-season game remained.

The Curtis Warriors.

The Warriors had ended Kennedy’s season three years earlier. Now they would arrive in the Bronx for Senior Night, the final regular-season home game of Cortez’s varsity career.

The last time he would enter that field before the playoffs as the quarterback who had grown up across it.

Families would fill the bleachers.

Seniors would walk beneath banners carrying their names. Coach Lloyd would watch boys he had developed prepare to leave his tutelage for greener pastures.

For Cortez, the night would be more than another recommendation to college coaches, more than playoff positioning, more than revenge against a team responsible for one of Kennedy’s earliest exits.

Senior Night would be his love letter. One final regular-season statement waiting to be written.

[The JZA]

some interesting school choices there

what's y'all season stats looking like?

Granted they don't mean squat since these are filler games, you'll have to catch the preview of the next game later today for the team stats. If you meant, player stats, you're SOL buddy

Go Canes

see the thing is, he gave her the chance to explain that shit and she waited until he had proof to drop it. there's more there

You know there's always four sides to the story: Jennessa's, Lauri's, the truth and whatever between his ears wants to believe. He's gonna have to pick one eventually.