Noah could hear the sounds of the court before he went in, and they made his heart race like it did a year ago. The memories of shoes squeaking against the wooden floor, or the ball bouncing up and down the court.
He pushed open the door and walked in, green eyes turning wide to take in the court in its entirety.
He came out from under the bleachers; the white seats surrounded the entire court with multiple rows, enough to seat at least two thousand people.
A bit much for a private school, but Westpoint did have a strong basketball tradition. The tall hoop was the first thing he saw; the fibreglass backboard and the red rim.
The entire team was on the court, running through drills, casually shooting and chatting as the tryouts waited on the line impatiently.
He remembered the feeling, watching the main team goof around and thinking, "Yeah, I could do better than that."
The sentiment would change once you got on the court with them though. Even back when it was his first tryout, he knew that and tried to play more calmly than competitively.
Because he didn't think he could compete. He was too short, too slow, too weak. There wasn't much he could do other than a quick catch and shoot. The main reason he even tried out was because his dad suggested it.
Back then he had held off telling his dad about how he didn't get into the team for almost three months, giving excuses as to why he didn't go to practice. He still remembered the moment he was caught in the lie, in front of the whole family.
Noah cringed.
He got onto the floor, kicking the tips of his white sneakers on the wood. He had been planning to join the tryouts for weeks since he saw it on the school's socials, but he didn't find any basketball shorts that fit him at home.
So he bought some and a white tee from a shop in town. He always had the shoes. They were oversized on the old Noah, so they fit him well now.
He walked over to a boy sitting in the front row of the bleachers with a clipboard and was about to announce himself when the boy looked up.
"Freshman? Here for tryouts?" the boy said robotically. "Go stand in that line."
"Um, I'm actually a sophomore," Noah corrected.
The boy did a double take, measuring Noah's height with his eyes immediately. Six-three, athletic build. There was no way he didn't know this person. Then he saw those green eyes and awkward smile.
"Noah?"
Hearing his name, Noah nodded sheepishly, ignoring the annoyance with everyone being confused when they saw him. He had no idea who this guy was.
"Wow, summer really pulled out its tool bag for you," the boy whistled, then he noticed the unsure look in Noah's eye. "It's me, Cam. Cameron Diaz, we both washed out of tryouts last year."
Noah made a silent ohhh sound and waved his finger. "Oh, it's nice to see you again. You work with the team now? That's cool."
"Yeah, not all of us can put on five inches in a couple months," Cam said with a smile. "But I am glad you're back. We old guard gotta stick together."
"Sophomore is old guard?" Noah replied with a chuckle.
"Yeah, not a lot of us here are sophomores from last year. As for juniors, we barely have any. Team's made up of mostly seniors."
"Who's the best player on the team right now? In your opinion, of course."
Cam paused for a moment, studying his face. Noah took in the details of Cam's round face too; his skin was red and pale in different spots, his brown hair was messy and stringy.
Cam's brown eyes had an inquisitive tone to them, like he was used to just watching, so Noah asked him about the team to get a feel for the dynamic.
"You asking me cause I have a clipboard? Cause I'm not the coach or even part of the assistant coaching staff. I'm just a humble student manager."
"That's nice and all, but I didn't think you were the coach, you aren't bald enough," Noah quipped.
Cam seemed to remember he was asked a question and laughed awkwardly. "Why do you wanna know? Planning to replace anyone on the team?"
"Yes. I want to know whose spot I can take." There was no point sugarcoating it. When you stepped into someone's territory, you came to take space from the people already there.
Cam raised an eyebrow then smiled crookedly.
"Let's forget the seniors for a moment, cause you can't take their spot, no matter what you do. The best player here is Josh definitely. Over there." Cam pointed at a dark-skinned boy stretching at half-court.
Josh's hair was a plume of dark hair tied back. He had a smooth, young-looking face and a decent build for a hooper.
"Six foot exactly, perfect for shooting guard," Cam explained. "He does pretty much everything well, but his main trick is his handles. He'll have you dancing with a few moves, gets by anyone and creates advantages like it's nothing."
Noah nodded; he remembered the guy from his tryouts from when they both were freshmen. The guy was good, very quiet and kept to himself though.
"Over there is Neil," Cam said, pointing at a blonde-haired boy shooting in the corner. His form was perfect, and even if he missed, the other players passed the ball back.
"He's a legacy player; both his dad and grandpa played here, I think. He's also pretty perfect in everything. He's slower than Josh, but his main power has always been getting downhill and the midrange."
Those two seemed to have sure positions, ones that Noah couldn't take right now, as his only real skill was being a decent shooter.
"What about the other sophomores?"
"You should already know Leeroy, Tyler and Max; you told me they were your friends last year," Cam answered with a skeptical undertone. "Leeroy's the only one that you might have trouble taking his spot. He's power forward; tough and can play well with his back to the basket. Which I don't remember you being able to do."
Noah shook his head.
"I could learn, but it'll take a while. I can't take Tyler's spot either, I guess. He's the center, and I'm not seven foot."
"Yup, Max is your best bet. He only started getting playing time recently," Cam reassured. "He's our best on-ball defender, or Neil is, but we like to conserve Neil's energy since he's point guard. Max isn't as good a shooter as you, so if you can play better defense, provide good connective passes, and make good rotations, you'll make the team in a few months."
Noah nodded, smiling softly; what Cam didn't know was that physically he was probably on par with Leeroy. Right now, what he needed was effort and a lot of patience.
Or, he could use his Wraith powers to cheat just a bit.