Things have been going well for me over the last few days, except for the situation with Alex. I decided to give her some space, hoping she’d come to terms with her feelings on her own. But it didn’t take long to notice that she was actually pushing herself even harder, almost punishing herself because of my SAT score. I started to feel guilty about it. It was never my intention to make her feel like she had to compete with me, or that she wasn’t good enough. So, after our recording session—which was a blast, by the way—I suggested we go out on a movie date, just the two of us, a car movie date which was something I was excited to attend.
Eventually, though, the conversation turned to grades, and Alex opened up about her obsessive drive to always be the best. She admitted, a little sheepishly, that she was jealous of my score. I was honestly relieved to hear her say it out loud. It wasn’t surprising, considering how self-aware she can be—like that time she had a meltdown on the show and then broke down every part of what she was feeling. I realized I didn’t need to fix her or give her advice; I just needed to listen. Sometimes, being the ear is the most important thing. I couldn’t solve this for her—she’d have to work through it herself—but I wanted to help her cope, to be there for her as she figured it out.
To better support her, I even dove into a stack of psychology books, absorbing them and hoping to understand women and their behaviors more deeply. I read about everything from emotional intelligence to communication strategies, but the more I read, the more confused I got. Every book seemed to give different advice, sometimes even contradicting each other. One would say to always give space, another to always offer comfort, and yet another to just distract with humor. In the end, the only consistent lesson I found was the simplest: just listen. Be present, pay attention, and don’t try to “fix” everything. That’s what I decided to do—trust my gut and be there for Alex in the way that felt right.
It actually worked, at least for now. I realized that Alex’s competitive and obsessive nature isn’t some flaw to be cured. It’s a part of who she is, and honestly, it’s a big reason why she’s so successful and driven. My job isn’t to change her, but to help her channel that energy into something positive. Maybe music could be that outlet, though right now, Alex isn’t as passionate about it as she is about academics. Still, after seeing her light up during our recording session, I couldn’t help but hope that she’d find a new kind of joy in it. Maybe she did find that after performing with the band in the cafes in the show but she has yet to get that exposure in this life.
I really hope the songs we recorded go viral—not just for me, but for Alex, too. If they take off and she finds her passion in music, I wouldn’t mind my name getting out there and becoming famous, even if it means sacrificing a bit of my cherished anonymity. If it helps Alex shine in a new way, it’s worth it. We even decided on our stage names for the song releases, putting a lot of thought (and a little bit of inside joke energy) into the choices. I’ll keep those names under wraps for now—a surprise for when the tracks finally drop and the world gets to hear what we’ve created.
While all these thoughts circled in my head, I found myself back at the old basketball court with Josh for the first time in what felt like forever. Ever since I joined the school team, my weekends had been eaten up by official practices and games, so I’d missed these laid-back sessions with the guys. Today, though, was different. As soon as I walked onto the court, the whole crew greeted me with a chorus of dabs—“Perfect dab for the perfect score!” someone shouted. I couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently, I’d even leveled up my dabbing skills: Dabbing, level 69. Not a bad stat to have.
After a few pickup games—where, to be honest, I might have gone a little too hard, even when I picked the weaker players for my team—I ended up alone on the court with just Josh. We were practicing shooting, and I was working on my left hand. I’d made it a goal to get as comfortable shooting with my non-dominant hand as I was with my right. It was all about adding more tricks to my bag, making myself unpredictable on the court.
It’s been a busy semester, not just for me but for everyone I know. There’s this energy in the air, like everyone’s stepping up their game. The roasts and banter might sound harsh to an outsider, but for us, it’s just motivation. We push each other, and I can see it’s working.
“I have to be the best on the court,” I said, maybe a little too casually. But it was true. I’d decided not to hold back anymore. I wanted to win, but not in a way that made it boring for everyone else. There’s a sweet spot—dominating, but still keeping things fun.
“One,” Josh counted as I sank the first shot with my left. We’d made a game of it: every time I missed, I had to start over. My record was seven in a row, but I was aiming for ten. “Is it really that serious?”
“You’ve seen the stats, man. There are people out there whose whole lives revolve around getting into the best schools. If I want to take their spot, I have to prove I’m worth it. Basketball could give me that leg up. I’ve gotta show out for recruiters and stuff.”
Josh rebounded and passed the ball back. “Two. I get that part. Just wondering how much time you’re willing to invest in this, and how far you plan to take it.”
“Far. If I can get this down, get consistent, it’ll be huge. Time is the real factor—I started behind most of these guys, but honestly? I think I’ve got this. It’s coming together fast.”
Josh nodded, watching me line up another shot. “Right? I’m not even sure this should be possible, not this quickly.” He grinned as the ball swished through the net. “Three.”
Sometimes I wondered if I was living in a training montage from some anime. Josh once told me about a story he’d heard—some athlete who injured his dominant arm and trained his non-dominant one until he was basically ambidextrous. It sounded like something out of a comic book, but here I was, making it real. Maybe I was just a character in someone else’s story. If so, I hoped they were rooting for me.
I grinned, feeling a little cocky. “I’m just that good.” Another free throw, left-handed. The whole point of this session was to become a threat from anywhere on the court, with either hand. I’d already gotten decent at finishing at the rim with both hands, but shooting from range was a new challenge. If I could master this, defenders would have a lot more to worry about.
“Four.” Josh shook his head in disbelief. He’d tried shooting left-handed before and knew how awkward it felt. The fact that I was making it look easy was, apparently, a little unsettling.
“So, how are the essays coming along?” Josh asked, tossing me the ball again.
I’d been told by my counselor to apply for every scholarship I could find and to treat my college essays like my future depended on them. Not those exact words, but close enough. After seeing the competition for the schools I was aiming for, I knew the essays needed to be clutch.
“Work in progress,” I admitted, taking another shot. “I’m trying to improve my writing first, get some advice, then I’ll draft something. After that, I’ll have a few people read it over.”
Josh nodded. “Smart. Want me to take a look? Maybe you can help me with my stuff, too?”
“Yeah, definitely. I’ll send you my draft once it’s ready, and I’ll help with whatever you need.”
“Cool… and we’re starting over now.” He pointed to the ball as it bounced off the rim. I’d missed. Back to zero.
I cursed under my breath and jogged after the ball, but I couldn’t help smiling. This was the kind of challenge I thrived on. The repetition, the grind, the little victorie felt like progress.
As we kept practicing, I thought about how much things had changed, not just for me but for everyone around me. Josh was stepping up, too. He’d started studying more, taking his video editing seriously, even thinking about retaking the SAT. The whole group was leveling up, and it felt good that I was somehow inspiring my surroundings even if I was a bit too presumptuous to assume that