25. The league in motion
THE LEAGUE IN MOTION
SENIOR YEAR
T hey spread the acceptance envelopes across the cafeteria table like they were laying out cards for a magic trick.
Spring stared at hers, palms flat against the table like she was grounding herself.
“So,” Cameron said, already grinning, tapping the edge of an envelope against his knee. “Let’s hear it. Who’s leaving who behind?”
“Don’t say it like that,” Spring muttered, but she was smiling.
Brian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Yeah, Cameo. Some of us still gotta figure out how to eat next year.”
Cameron rolled his eyes. “Man, you dramatic.”
Preston cleared his throat. “Alright. I’ll go.”
They all looked at him.
“I applied to Juilliard,” he casually revealed, like he hadn’t rehearsed the confession a hundred times. “Just to see.”
Spring’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t tell us that.”
“I didn’t tell anyone that,” he said quickly. “It’s a long shot. I already got into UH. Music program’s solid, studio access is crazy, and—” he shrugged, “—Houston still feels like home.”
Cameron nodded approvingly. “Staying where the money’s at. Smart.”
Brian snorted. “You mean staying where y’all at.”
Spring shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Brian said too fast. “Just saying everybody don’t get to chase dreams full-time.”
Preston frowned. “B, you good?”
Brian waved him off. “I’m good. Let’s hear Spring’s.”
She hesitated, then slid her letters forward. “So, I also applied to UH, but for grins, Momma Avery helped me apply to a few other schools, so I did Spelman and Clark. I got accepted into both.”
Cameron let out a low whistle. “Atlanta, huh?”
“They’ve got a strong directing program,” she said defensively, before she needed to be. “Film theory, production tracks – real resources. Plus, that’s where my mom was from. Would be nice to know what life was like for her at this age.”
“That’s huge,” Preston said, genuinely. “You could run that place.”
She smiled at him softly. “It doesn’t matter. U of H has a great program and I’m going to be a Coog.”
The couple touched hands. Brian rolled his eyes.
Cameron slapped the table. “Okay, okay. My turn.” He spread his letters out like a dealer showing a winning hand. “Howard. NYU. USC.”
Spring laughed. “Of course.”
“They want Cameo,” he said, mock-serious. “I don’t know if I want them yet.”
Brian didn’t laugh this time.
Preston, still riding the energy, nudged him. “What about you, man? Don’t tell me you going to surprise us and say Harvard or something.”
Brian’s mouth flattened, tension settling across his face. “Nah,” he said flatly. “Didn’t apply.”
The table went quiet.
Spring blinked. “What do you mean, didn’t apply? To Harvard or to college in general?”
Brian pushed his chair back. “I mean I didn’t apply anywhere.”
Cameron frowned. “Why not?”
“Because somebody gotta be realistic, Cameo,” Brian snapped. “Y’all talk like college is guaranteed. Like rent don’t exist. Like parents don’t need help.”
Preston opened his mouth. “B, we didn’t think?—”
“I know you didn’t,” Brian cut in, standing now. “That’s the problem. You never do.”
Spring stood too. “Brian?—”
But he was already grabbing his backpack. “Congratulations,” he said, voice tight. “All of you.”
Then he walked away, tray untouched.
The noise of the cafeteria rushed back in around them – laughter, trays clattering, someone yelling across the room – but their table stayed quiet.
Cameron exhaled. “Damn.”
Spring stared after Brian. “We didn’t know.”
Preston looked down at his Juilliard envelope, suddenly heavier than it had been a minute ago. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “But we should’ve.”
They sat there a moment longer, three dreams spread across the table, another slipping out of reach.
Spring half-stood, eyes still on the space Brian had disappeared into. “Should we go after him?”
Cameron shook his head, already calmer than the moment deserved. “Nah. Let him cool off. Brian don’t like an audience when he’s hot. Short king energy.”
She nodded, trusting his read.
Then Cameron’s mouth curled into a grin like a switch had flipped. “So, now that everybody’s lives are about to change, how are y’all celebrating getting into college?”
Preston glanced at Spring. She smiled first. “He’s taking me to the Beaumont Boudin Festival.”
Cameron burst out laughing. “Of course he is.”
Preston leaned into it, voice slipping into a terrible Southern drawl. “Ain’t nothin’ say romance like sausage and humidity.”
Spring matched him instantly. “We gon’ walk hand in hand, eat too much, and regret every life choice.”
Cameron shook his head. “Y’all are so annoying together.” He paused, then smirked. “It’s actually cute. Looks good on you. The both of you.”
Spring raised an eyebrow. “That almost sounded like a blessing.”
“Oh, it is,” Cameron said easily. “And don’t forget: if it wasn’t for me, y’all wouldn’t even be together.”
Preston scoffed. “Cameo, cut it o?—”
“Nope,” Cameron cut in, pointing. “I introduced y’all. I approved it. I protected it. You’re welcome.”
Spring laughed. “That part’s true.”
Cameron leaned back, studying them. “So, U of H… not Juilliard or Spellman? How y’all feel about giving up dream schools?”
“We didn’t give them up. We both wanted to go there.”
“Spring, as long as I’ve known you, you wanted to go to Spellman,” Cameron said.
Preston took a sip of his drink then said, “Things change, Cameo.”
“Right, but if she wanted to go anywhere, you’d be okay with that?”
The air shifted just a little.
Spring answered first. “I think… we could make it work.” She glanced at Preston. “Right?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
She exhaled. “And honestly, UH’s program is strong. If I stay closer, it might not even matter. The way I see it, I got the best of both worlds. I just wanted to know I could get in.”
Preston looked at her closely, like he was memorizing her face. “I didn’t know you were considering it,” he said softly.
“I’m full of surprises, my dear sir. Now, are we going to eat some Boudin, or are we going to talk about next year?”
Then, because he was Preston and couldn’t help himself, he sang it. Low. Easy. Just for her.
Spring’s smile faltered for a second – not from doubt, but from how deep it hit.
Cameron groaned. “Alright, alright. Save the soundtrack for later. This is a cafeteria, not a movie.”
Spring leaned into Preston anyway, bumping his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
He smiled back. “You love it.”
She did.
And for a moment, the future didn’t feel like a thing that could pull them apart.
Eventually the bell rang, prompting the three of them to make their way to class.
The teacher hadn’t yet arrived. Spring sat perched on the edge of a desk, backpack half-zipped, foot bouncing. Preston stood near the door, pretending to read a flyer he’d already memorized twice. Cameron leaned against the wall like he owned it, chewing gum with authority.
Preston glanced at Cameron, nodding his head toward their favorite exit just outside the classroom door. “Still squeak?”
Cameron smirked. “Only if you nervous.”
Spring crossed her arms. “If we get caught, I’m blaming Superman.”
Preston laughed. “Don’t worry, Nubia, I got this.”
The final bell rang.
The halls began to empty as lockers slammed and bodies moved to classrooms.
Cameron held up three fingers. “On two.”
Spring blinked. “You’re holding up three fingers.”
They moved anyway.
Preston inched the door open. Cameron blocked the sightline like a professional decoy. Spring slipped through first, heart pounding, laughing before she could stop herself.
The hinge squeaked as Preston moved to slip through the door.
“Damn it,” Preston hissed.
“Justice League,” Cameron whispered. “Commit.”
They bolted.
Shoes hit pavement. Backpacks thudded. Laughter broke loose the second they cleared the side of the building.
Spring bent over, hands on her knees. “Oh my God. I forgot how illegal that feels.”
Preston grinned, breathless. “You still got it.”
Cameron pointed at them both. “Alright. I’m not trying to be a fifth wheel or second cousin or nothing, so whatever y’all do, be careful. And no babies.”
Spring waved him off. “Relax, Cameo.”
“I’m serious,” he said, softer now. “I like you too much to have to fight either one of you.”
Preston clapped his shoulder. “We’ll be back before last period.”
Cameron stepped away, shaking his head. “Y’all better bring me something greasy.”
They took off down the street, Spring’s laughter trailing behind them like a promise. They got in the car, next stop Beaumont.
The drive felt like freedom.
Windows down. Texas heat. A long stretch of road where nothing mattered but right now.
Preston drove as Spring rested her feet on the dash. “So this is Beaumont romance?”
Spring smirked. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“You never talk about home. I’m excited.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too high… this isn’t Houston. Much more small-town vibe.”
“Like Galveston?”
“Okay, I see you’ve lived in a big city your whole life. You lucky you’re so cute,” she smirked.
A laugh broke from Preston’s mouth. “It’s ’cause you love me.”
“It’s true. I’m in love with Big Bird.”
Preston scoffed. “Nah, you just like when we sneak off because you’re gonna try some freakiness at some point.”
Spring put her hand on her chest, feigning offense. “My good sir, I am not a harlot. Wench? Perhaps, but no harlot.”
The pair laughed as he changed lanes.
She leaned her head back, eyes closed and placed her hand on his thigh. “Besides, I like sneaking off with you.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah. Feels like we’re stealing time.”
He nodded. “The best kind.”
The radio crackled between stations until he turned it off and started singing instead; soft at first, then fuller, like he couldn’t help it. Something old. Something sweet.
Spring turned toward him. “You always do that when you’re happy.”
He glanced at her, smiling. “You always notice.”
They drove like that; no rush, no plans past the next mile marker, just two kids skipping school, pretending the future wasn’t already tugging at them.