Lena rubbed her eyes and looked up from the spreadsheet she’d been formatting for two hours. The empty gym echoed with the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional shuffle of her dad pacing his office behind the glass wall.

It was Saturday, and the community center was supposed to be closed, but she’d promised to help finish the quarterly impact report. Her brother, Evan, had begged her to ditch it earlier that afternoon.

“Come on, it snowed. The court’s empty. I bet we can get in one-on-one before it melts,” he’d said, spinning a basketball on his finger.

But Lena had stayed.

Now, just past 6 p.m., her dad was meeting with Malik, the center’s program director—and Lena could hear their voices through the closed door.

“Malik, we can’t just double the attendance figures,” her dad said, his voice low but firm.

Malik’s voice was quicker, more defensive. “I’m not saying lie. Just… highlight our busiest days. It’s not fake—it’s strategic. You know as well as I do, nobody funds quiet programs.”

Lena sat frozen at her desk.

“This is a nonprofit, not a business pitch,” her dad said. “Donors don’t just want numbers. They want truth.”

“Donors want results,” Malik snapped. “We had 75 kids on Family Sports Night. But on grant applications, 75 doesn’t sound impressive. Say 120. Say it’s typical. No one audits local numbers. We’re not inflating revenue. Just polishing stats.”

Lena backed away from the office window before they could notice her.

That night, over dinner, her dad was quieter than usual. He barely touched his pasta. Evan, still sweaty from his solo workout, tried to fill the silence with talk of a new mini-documentary Malik wanted to film to promote the center.

“It’ll show kids in action, smiling, learning—it’s going to look amazing,” he said between bites. “We’re filming tomorrow night. Malik says it’ll make people see the place for what it really is.”

“Are you helping with that?” Lena asked.

“Yeah,” Evan said. “He wants me to show some drills for the middle school league—maybe even record a voiceover.”

Lena looked at her dad. He didn’t say anything.

After dinner, she helped clear the table. When Evan went upstairs, she finally asked, “You’re not okay with it, are you?”

Her dad rinsed a plate. “I don’t know. We’ve helped a lot of kids this year. But if we can’t tell the truth about it, what’s the point?”

The next night, Lena biked to the center just before 10. Malik had scheduled the shoot after hours to make the gym “look cleaner and more controlled,” according to Evan.

She slipped inside through the side door and stepped into the gym, now lit with portable lights. Malik stood at half court, directing Evan, who bounced a ball and jogged in a tight circle for the camera.

“Slow it down,” Malik said. “Look tired, like you’ve been doing this for hours. We need this to look like a full-day program.”

“It’s just me,” Evan said, glancing toward the stands. “That’s not really honest, is it?”

“That’s the beauty of editing,” Malik replied. “We’ll add crowd noise. Cut in stock footage from the summer tournament. The message is still true—we help kids thrive.”

“Except this isn’t summer,” Lena said, stepping out of the shadows.

Malik turned, startled. “Lena. Didn’t know you were here.”

“Clearly.”

Evan looked between them. “It’s not really lying, right?”

Lena walked to center court. “You’re making it look like something it’s not. No donors, no parents watching this will think this is a staged video. They’ll think the gym is full. That this happens every night.”

Malik frowned. “It’s just storytelling.”

“It’s not,” Lena said. “It’s twisting facts to get money. And you’re pulling my brother into it.”

Malik sighed and lowered the camera. “You two really are your father’s kids.”

He left without another word.

Evan bounced the ball once, then again.

“Was he wrong?” he asked.

“No,” Lena said. “And you knew it.”

He nodded slowly. “Let’s go tell Dad.”

They turned off the lights, locked the gym behind them, and walked out into the cold.

_{“Full Court Truth” by Nina D. Smith. Published by Bright Bunny Books © 2025. Retelling of “The Ghost Ship” from The Windy Hill by Cornelia Meigs, originally published in 1922.}

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“Full Court Truth” is best suited for students in grades 7–10, offering relatable themes of integrity, peer pressure, and standing up for what’s right.