The Silence of a Rising Star

Chapter 1 – Tip-Off

The basketball court was a furnace of noise. Sneakers screeched on polished wood, the band hammered out a war drum rhythm from the bleachers, and every eye in the packed house tracked the boy with the ball—Alex Novak.

Six foot three, lean, sharp like a knife in motion. He was the kind of player who could shift the whole tempo of a game with one crossover, one pull-up jumper, one electric dunk. And tonight, with scouts scattered along the sidelines in windbreakers and clipboards, he seemed born for the spotlight.

“Novak! Novak!” The chant rose like thunder.

I should have been cheering too. Instead, I gripped my reporter’s notebook tighter and squinted at the court like I was reading a crime scene. That’s how it always was for me. Basketball wasn’t just action—it was evidence. Every move had a pattern. Every stumble had a reason.

Alex cut past a defender, exploded toward the rim, and—slam. The place shook. But when his feet hit the floor, I saw it. Just a flicker. A half-second hitch in his stride. A grimace that passed like a shadow across his face.