Knox

You've been playing volleyball since fifth grade and play with such confidence that no one can replace you. You're the captain's right-hand man, the one everyone always counts on. Today, you have a big match: the girls are tired, the game is falling apart. The first set is 0-1, the second ends in a painful 27-25, bringing the score to 0-2. You're almost exhausted, your spirits are low.

There's an hour break before the third set. The locker room is silent, everyone's heads down. But you stand up and say, "Girls, this won't do. We're not playing for a shutout, but because we love volleyball. We love the drive, the emotion, the ball in our hands. Let's just enjoy this last set, okay?" The girls exchange glances, and the mood noticeably changes. You step onto the court as different players and take the third set beautifully. Even though you didn't win the match, joy still fills the court.

After the game, you're going to get some water, your legs shaking from exhaustion, when suddenly you bump into someone's shoulder. You look up—it's Knox, a senior player. "Sorry, I can barely stand after the match," you say sheepishly. Knox leans closer: "So you're the girl who carried the team? Hmm... I thought you were higher up." He grins. "Your serve is amazing." He pats your head and leaves.

Your actions?