The letter came on a Wednesday.
It was waiting on the kitchen counter when Dante got home: cream envelope, thick paper, official-looking seal. He wondered if his mom must've left it there after work, too tired to say anything. He stared at it for a second, hands still sweaty from practice.
University of Southern Nevada.
Not a household name, but a solid mid-major. Known for fast guards and a system built on pace and pressure. Dante had watched them once on YouTube, blowing past a ranked opponent with a 6'3" floor general who reminded him of himself.
He opened the letter slowly, eyes scanning the text:
"Dear Dante King,
We've been following your growth on and off the court..."
The words blurred after that.
Full scholarship.
Unofficial visit invitation.
Access to training staff, tutors, and the works.
He read it twice. Then a third time.
This was real, yet he couldn't believe it.
He sat down on the couch, heart racing, the paper still in his hand. He wasn't dreaming about getting offers anymore. He was holding one.
When Alicia walked in later that night, shoes off, apron still folded over her arm, she noticed the letter immediately.
She picked it up. Read it once.
Then looked at her son.
"Well," she said quietly, "I guess they are really watching."
Dante smiled a little. "They said I could visit. All expenses paid."
Alicia sat beside him. "Do you want to?"
He hesitated. "I mean… yeah. But it's early. Coach Hale said things will heat up after the season."
"They're already heating up."
She placed the letter down gently and leaned back, the cushion sighing beneath her.
"I'm proud of you, babe," she said. "But offers are offers. They'll sell you the moon now. You just make sure you're picking a place that sees you for who you are, not just your stat line."
Dante nodded. "I will."
But he wasn't thinking about school yet.
Not fully.
Right now, he was thinking about how this had changed everything.
The next day at school, word spread fast.
Someone must've seen the envelope, or maybe overheard Dante talking to Coach Hale. Either way, by lunch period, the whispers were flying again.
"Yo, Southern Nevada already offered?"
"He ain't even hit mid-season yet."
"Think he's one-and-done?"
Even some of the teachers looked at him differently.
Rico caught up with him at the lockers between the third and fourth period.
"You think this is the first of many?"
Dante shrugged. "Could be. Could be the only one."
Rico looked him in the eye. "It won't be, brother."
At practice, Coach Hale was waiting for him near the baseline.
"I saw the letter," he said.
Dante nodded. "It's real."
"It is. But don't let it change your work, don't let it change the heart you ball with."
"It won't."
"I mean it," Coach said, voice low. "I've seen a dozen kids get letters and stop chasing the next level. This ain't the finish line. It's the gun going off."
Dante held his gaze. "Coach… I'm not slowing down."
Hale smiled, just a little. "Good. Because Nevada's just the first."
He clapped Dante's shoulder.
"Now let's go run this damn practice."
Practice ran hot that day, not just in intensity, but in atmosphere.
Word of the offer had reached everyone. Malik gave Dante a fist bump when he walked into the gym, a silent sign of respect. But Andre? He didn't say a word. Just glared across the court and tightened his sneakers like he was suiting up for battle.
They ran full-court drills, transition sets, and defensive switches. Coach Hale was in no-nonsense mode.
"You think colleges care how flashy you are?" he barked at one point. "They want players who execute. Who don't miss assignments? Don't get lazy. Now run it back!"
Dante was sharp. Too sharp. Every pass was crisp, every read automatic. He made the right decision almost every time, and that only made it worse.
During a half-court set, he called for a backdoor cut from Andre. Andre didn't move.
The play stalled. Hale blew the whistle.
"What happened?" he asked.
Dante looked at Andre. "Cut wasn't there."
Andre stared back. "Maybe the play wasn't, either."
Coach didn't respond. He just clapped once. "Run it again. And this time, if you can't be a teammate, sit down."
Andre didn't say anything, but the tension lingered, tight, quiet, like a string pulled too far.
After practice, Dante was the last to leave the locker room.
He stayed behind, sitting in front of his open locker, taping his ankles back up. Not because he had another workout, just to slow his mind down.
The offer was real. The scouts were coming. The spotlight was here.
But the vibe in the gym had changed. Again, and he knew it wasn't going to stop.
He heard someone behind him. Rico.
"You alright?" Rico asked, leaning on a locker.
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
Dante nodded slowly. "They're starting to act like I don't deserve it."
"They're acting like they weren't ready for you to get it."
Dante sighed and looked up. "Same thing."
Rico clapped him on the shoulder. "Nah, bro. Not even close. You earned it. Every court, every play, every hour in the cold. This ain't luck."
"Tell that to Andre."
Rico smirked. "Andre don't gotta believe in you. Just don't let him make you stop believing in you."
Dante stood up and zipped his bag. "I won't. I'm not slowing for anyone."
The next day, during homeroom, a new face showed up in the hallway outside Dante's classroom.
Button-up shirt, clipboard in hand, university logo on the breast.
Coach Hale came to get Dante personally.
"Grab your things," he said. "You've got someone here to see you."
The other students buzzed like bees as Dante walked out, backpack slung over one shoulder. Down the hall, into Hale's office, where a tall, serious-faced recruiter extended his hand.
"Coach Lewis. University of Raleigh. Ever heard of us?"
Dante shook his hand firmly. "I've seen you play UNC tough."
"That's right," Lewis smiled. "We like underdogs."
Dante sat across from him, while Coach Hale leaned against the back wall, arms folded.
"We saw your showcase game," Coach Lewis began. "And your last two district matchups. You've got poise. Real leadership qualities. Not just a scorer, a floor general."
Dante didn't flinch. "I try to make the right reads."
"You do more than try," Lewis said. "We're not offering officially yet, but let's just say we're watching very closely. And if this season continues like it started…"
He smiled again.
"We'll be back with something in writing."
He went back to his classroom with not less than 40 eyes watching him closely in the hallway.
That night, as Dante walked home with Rico, the streetlights stretched long shadows across the cracked sidewalk.
"You're on their radar now," Rico said. "First Nevada. Now Raleigh?"
Dante adjusted his backpack. "Coach Hale says more will come."
"They will."
Rico looked over, slower now. "Just promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't forget who you are when they all start screaming your name."
Dante looked ahead.
"I won't, brother."
He meant it.
But deep down, he knew it was getting harder every day.