Rory
A stranger with a camera bag showed up to practice on a Tuesday and very nearly ended my entire life before first period.
"That's the transfer," I heard someone murmur near the boards, not even bothering to lower his voice, and I looked up mid-drill to find a woman in a press lanyard studying me with the specific, hungry attention of someone who'd just found a story she liked the shape of. She had a notepad. She had a photographer trailing her with a lens that looked like it could see through walls, or at minimum through compression gear, which was infinitely worse.
"Rory Monroe?" She caught me the second Coach Reyes called a water break, notepad already flipped open. "Regional Sports Weekly. Got a minute?"
"I'm pretty sweaty for an interview."
"I've interviewed sweatier." She sm
