Lieutenant Easton Wyler picked up the portable PA microphone.

The black rubber cord whipped across the glossy waxed floor as he walked out to the center circle of the court.

He straightened the high collar of his service dress uniform and checked his gold wristwatch twice before hitting the power button.

Matty was sitting in the third row of the bleachers between two boys from room 204.

His round plastic wire-rimmed glasses caught the yellow gym lights every time he looked down at his sneakers.

Wyler tapped the mesh top of the microphone, sending a deep thump through the wall speakers.