The memory of what had happened in that hallway still lingered in Miles's head as he had practice with his teammates. Sure, he was still able to steer the ball around well, but when a teammate passed the ball to him, it had accidentally hit his face, and he was knocked out temporarily until several of them lifted him off to the bleachers. He regained consciousness not long after, and even then did he stare up at the teammates gathered around him in wonder as they were trying to figure out what was wrong with the guy.
"Hey, what's wrong with Durand?" the coach asked them, then turned to Fred.
"Got bitten by somethin', sir. He hasn't been feelin' real well," Fred said, half-lying. "He should be good in a while, I guess."
"You better, Durand. Listen to me, if you keep up this sorta behavior, I'd have to put you in as a substitute. Do you really want that?"
"No sir," Miles managed to utter while he lay down.
"Good. Now stay here for a while, watch the other guys play while you rub the pain outta that cheek."
"Wait, sir," Fred interrupted.
"I just have somethin' to do. Can ya guys just go on ahead without me?"
"Yeah, whatever," the coach replied. "Come on, sissies, that's it, get in line."
Fred was looking for Erin around campus, and when he'd finally found her, he smiled a bit before he talked. The smile, though, came out a little more awkward than it should've.
"E-e-e... Hahhh, wait a minute," Fred said, panting a bit in exhaustion. "Ugh. D'ya notice anything off with Miles? I mean, he isn't concentrating at all."