My Step Guardian

work in or work out

“Alright, boys,” he said, his voice booming across the hall. “There’s a football competition coming up — interclass. Every team wants glory. Every team wants the trophy. And I expect nothing but your best.”

I glanced around. The hall was buzzing, but I noticed the same group of boys from the sea shore lurking near the back. The same smug expressions, the same confidence that bordered on arrogance. They spotted me immediately. Their laughter was quiet but sharp, the kind that cuts before you even know it’s there.

“And you,” the teacher pointed at me, “don’t just stand there. Who wants to volunteer for the first team?”

Before I could think, I raised my hand. The hall went silent for a split second, then a few chuckles rolled through.

“Who’s this joker?” one of the ball boys muttered, nudging the others. “Does he even play?”

“Let’s see if he can even kick the ball,” another sneered, smirking.

I ignored them, already stepping forward. “I’ll play,” I said firmly.

Their laughter grew, louder now. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” one of them whispered to the others. “Let’s test him.”

By the end of the morning, news had spread across the school. Benjamin — the new guy — had volunteered. Everyone was curious. Everyone doubted me. Even Mina and Vivian had wandered to the edge of the hall, their eyes scanning me as if they already knew this would be interesting.

I scanned the group of boys I could select from. Uncle Phil immediately caught my eye — calm, composed, the same rich aura I had sensed before. Alongside him, I chose a few others: boys who weren’t particularly strong but had heart. The bullies picked the obvious stars: fast, strong, and aggressive.

“Let’s do this,” I said, determination hardening my chest.

The hall cleared, leaving only the football pitch bathed in the early morning sun. The grass was perfect — soft, green, and inviting — nothing like the dusty patches I grew up with. The wind carried a faint smell of cut grass and sweat from previous matches. I could hear the distant chatter of students, some betting quietly on who would win, some just watching the new guy with curiosity.

The bullies walked onto the pitch first, smirking like they already owned the day. Their leader Wale, a tall and muscular boy, threw me a glance that was part disbelief, part amusement. Uncle Phil followed me quietly, a calm presence beside me. My other selections shuffled nervously, fidgeting with the straps of their shoes or tossing the ball between their hands.

"Alright," I said, trying to mask my nerves with confidence. "We might not be the strongest, but we can outsmart them. Keep your heads up, trust your instincts, fall back when I instruct and most importantly, have fun."

A few nods, a few doubtful looks, but enough to give me hope. The whistle blew.

The first minutes were chaos. The bullies moved fast, their coordination almost flawless. One of them tried to rush past me immediately. I stepped to the side, feinting left, then right, sending him sprawling as the ball slipped past him. A small cheer from the sidelines caught me off guard. Even Vivian and Mina were watching. Wait what's she doing here? Mina smirking knowingly while Vivian’s gaze was focused, sharp.

Uncle Phil was solid in defense. Every time the ball approached our goal, he intercepted with ease, his timing almost perfect. I realized then that his calm demeanor wasn’t just for show; he knew football. My underdogs weren’t the fastest, but they had grit. One of them stumbled twice but kept running, recovering in ways I didn’t expect. I had to shout encouragement, and every time I did, they responded, as if my confidence was contagious.

By the midpoint, we were tied, 1-1. The bullies looked frustrated, starting to underestimate us. I noticed a tiny gap in their formation and called to Uncle Phil. He passed the ball to me with precision, and I sprinted forward, dodging a tackle with a sharp pivot. The goal seemed far, but instinct took over. I struck the ball hard, low, aiming for the corner. The goalie dived too late — goal.

The hall erupted with cheers. I heard the whispers: "He’s good." "Did you see that?" The bullies froze, rage flashing in their eyes. They regrouped quickly, their tactics harsher now, trying to intimidate. I blocked a pass and noticed the leader sneer at me. He lunged again, full force, but I sidestepped and passed to one of my slower teammates, who managed a clumsy but effective shot. Another goal.

The final minutes were a blur of running, passing, feints, and shots. Every time they thought they had an opening, we countered. Uncle Phil was everywhere, my team finding their rhythm. I realized then that it wasn’t strength, it was mind and heart that won games.

Finally, the whistle blew. Three goals ahead. We had won. The bullies stared, mouths open, as the hall erupted with cheers. My teammates lifted me up for a brief moment, Uncle Phil clapping silently beside me. Mina’s eyes sparkled, a smirk on her lips that said she’d been entertained. Vivian’s smile was subtle, confident — she hadn’t needed to cheer to show she was impressed.

I felt a rush of exhilaration, the kind that made your chest ache in a good way. For the first time at Forest High, I felt like I belonged. Not because of the win alone, but because I had earned it.

And I knew this wasn’t just a match. This was the start of something bigger.

The aftermath of the match was louder than the match itself.

By the time lunch break rolled around, half the school seemed to know my name. Everywhere I turned, someone was talking about the game — how “the new guy” had taken on the best players in school and actually won. Some kids slapped my shoulder in passing, others whistled or threw me mock salutes. Even teachers glanced my way with amused smiles.

I sat down with my tray, sore but trying to look casual, when Mina slid into the seat across from me like she owned it.

“Benjamin!” she said, a little too loud, grinning like she’d just scored the winning goal herself. Then she slapped my back — hard.

“Ah!” I winced, nearly dropping my spoon. “Easy, Mina! I still have ribs, you know.”

She laughed. “Sorry, sorry. I just had to. That was insane out there. You were like… some kind of underdog superhero.”

I smirked, though my side still ached. “Yeah, well, my body doesn’t feel very superhero right now.”

As I rubbed my shoulder, I caught sight of Vivian across the courtyard. She was standing with a couple of friends, one hand holding a juice box, the other tucked into her pocket. For the first time since I’d known her, she didn’t look calm or untouchable — she looked… distracted. Her gaze flicked between me and Mina, her jaw tightening ever so slightly.

I frowned. Was that jealousy? Annoyance? Something else entirely?

Before I could figure it out, Mina kept talking, hyping me up like I’d just made it into the Premier League. I tried to focus, but my mind stayed on Vivian’s reaction.

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By the time I got home that evening, every muscle in my body felt like it had been used as a punching bag. I dropped my bag by the door and collapsed onto the couch, groaning.

“Long day?” Vivian’s voice came from the hallway.