Calloway doesn’t wait until practice.
He calls us straight into the locker room the second we arrive.
Something’s off. You can feel it.
He’s already at the, one hand braced against the back of a chair.
“Phones away,” he says.
That alone is enough to quiet the room.
We comply.
He doesn’t speak for a second - just looks at us.
Then he puts a pile of printed A4s on the table.
“Grab a copy,” he says. “It’s a news article. Leonora has given her side. She makes valid points, and I’d like to support her views. But I want to know where this team stands before I say anything on your behalf.”
Silence stretches.
Then Chen speaks. “I knew something was off,”he says.
A few heads turn.
He shrugs slightly.
“Didn’t care then. Don’t care now.”
Barrett lets out a breath. “She still scored on me in practice,” he mutters. “That’s what I’m taking from this.”
A couple of guys huff quiet laughs.
Mercer doesn’t. “Are we just ignoring what this means? We’re under review. Our games are wiped. This isn’t nothing.”
I’ve been quiet up to this point.
I stand. “She deserves it.”
Everyone looks at me.
“She deserved to play,” I continue. “She deserved a team. And this college didn’t give her one.”
Russo chips in. “Women’s sports deserve equal funding. What exactly was she supposed to do? Sit it out? Watch from the stands like it’s not her game too?”
Calloway watches all of us, unreadable.
Then he says, “So. What are you saying?”
Russo looks around. “Let’s vote,” he says.
It’s not formal.
No raised hands.
Just voices.
Agreement. Disagreement. A couple of guys staying quiet.
