In the middle of the court, the ten players stood still, their jerseys thrown at their feet, Blacklist's black and silver gleaming under the lights. Hector froze, staring at the scene with wide eyes.
He didn't move for several seconds. He stared at it like he was waiting for it to change, to go back to normal. But the jerseys stayed there, on the ground, and nobody was going to pick them up.
On the court, the coach stood there with his mouth open. His notebook slipped out of his hands and hit the floor, and he didn't even try to catch it. Two other staff members looked at each other, completely lost, not a single word between them.
Farther away, in her hospital room, Monique was watching the same scene on the wall screen across from her bed. She sat up suddenly, eyes wide.
"No," she said. "No, that's not possible."
She grabbed the remote and turned the volume up, like that would somehow make the picture more real.
