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  Part- 325:

  Before any more teasing could unfold, Coach Gin arrived, his face sched up in an exaggerated look of exhaustion. He rubbed his temples theatrically, as if their mere presence added to his woes. "Ah, youth! Every day with you lot feels like I’m growing ten new gray hairs."

  The team erupted in ughter, and even James found himself genuinely smiling this time. Coach Gin had a unique ability to bance his striess with humor. He knew when to push them and when to lighten the mood, especially before a big petition like today.

  Before the ughter could die down, Ryan threw an arm around James’ shoulders, fshing his signature grin. "Alright, now that our fearless zombie leader is back with us, what say ce bets? Who’s gonna choke first today?"

  Abbas snorted, crag his knuckles. "It’s definitely you, Ryan. You’ll be the first oo go down, trying to pull one of your fancy trick moves."

  Ryan gasped dramatically, clutg his chest like he’d just been stabbed. "Abbas, how *could* you? I thought we were brothers!"

  "Brothers?" Sourov muttered from the side, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. "Last I checked, you twue more than my parents."

  Keya, overhearing this, burst into a fit of giggles. "Ryan’s more like that annoying little brother everyone has but ’t get rid of."

  Ryan pointed an accusatory fi her. "Hey! I thought we agreed to be o each other before petition day!"

  Nabi grinned mischievously. "Sorry, Ryan. No mercy today."

  Zia, still shadowboxing, called out without missing a beat. "I’m betting on Ryan tapping out before the sed round—if not from exhaustion, then from talking too much."

  The group roared with ughter, even Coach Gin couldn’t hold back a chuckle. "Zia, you’ve got a point there. The only thing faster than Ryan’s throws is his mouth."

  Ryan gave a mock bow. "I’ll take that as a pliment. Verbal sparring is an ued skill, you know."

  Tisha, usually the quieter one, shook her head with an amused smile. "Ryan, if we got points for trash-talking, you’d have already won the gold medal."

  James leaned into the banter, his usual seriousness softening in the warmth of his teammates' camaraderie. "We should just enter Ryan into the entary team. That way, the rest of us stand a ce at winning."

  Ryan clutched his heart again in mock pain. "You too, James? Et tu, Brute?"

  Abbas grinned, folding his arms. "Alright, enough pig on Rya’s make it fair—who’s pg bets on James zoning out mid-matd fetting he’s on?"

  James smirked, lifting his hands in surrender. "Hey, as long as I don’t throw myself out of the ring, I’d call it a win."

  Save him a rare approving nod. "Low bar, but I respect it."

  Dipa, who had been quietly , chimed in with a sly grin. "You guys do realize Coach Gin is listening to all of this, right?"

  Everyone froze for a split sed before slowly turning to look at their coach. Coach Gin stood there, arms crossed, a stern look pstered on his fatil it cracked into a sly grin. "Just don’t let the other teams hear you, or they’ll think we’re a bunch of s."

  The eeam burst into ughter again, the tension that had been building finally breaking like a dam.