VIII.
1526 Words
-Raya-
The hallway was buzzing with that usual before-class chaos—lockers clanking open, footsteps pounding on polished tiles, and the hum of overlapping voices echoing down the corridor. My books hugged tight to my chest, but my heart beat louder than the noise around me. I was nervous, yes. But also… kind of electric inside.
I spotted Wendy and Irene by the window, laughing about something, hair catching the morning light like something out of a movie. I picked up my pace.
“Hey!” I called, weaving through a tangle of backpacks and moving bodies.
Wendy turned first. “There she is! You vanished after second period.”
“I had something to do,” I said, trying to sound casual, even as I felt my grin spreading. “Actually… I have something to tell you both.”
Irene raised a brow, intrigued. “Ooh, spill.”
I took a breath, straightened my back like I was about to deliver a speech. “I joined the Women’s Football Team.”
Their mouths dropped open almost in unison.
Wendy’s eyes lit up. “Wait—football? Like football football?”
I nodded. “Yup. Tryouts start this week.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s awesome!” Irene squealed, giving my arm a playful shake. “That’s so badass of you, Raye! I didn’t even know you were into sports like that.”
“I’m… learning,” I admitted. “I’ve never played before, but something about it just—felt right.”
Wendy nudged me. “Girl, that’s what school’s for. Trying things you’ve never done. You’ll kill it.”
“Thanks,” I said, beaming.
The bell rang like it always did—rudely—and Wendy groaned. “Ugh, time’s up. We’ve got Chem.”
Irene squeezed my arm. “Catch you at lunch. And seriously—proud of you.”
They disappeared into the crowd, their voices swallowed by the morning rush.
And then—
“Football?”
I froze.
I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. His voice carried that weight—calm, but heavy. Like a judge giving a sentence.
I looked up to see Alec, towering as always, his black varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, expression unreadable but not amused. He looked like someone just told him his car got keyed.
“You joined the football team?” he repeated, stepping closer. His tone wasn’t angry. It was… disappointed? Confused? Annoyed? Probably all of the above.
I squared my shoulders. “Yes. I did.”
Alec exhaled sharply, almost like a laugh, except it wasn’t funny. “Why?”
“Because I want to,” I said. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“It’s not hard to believe,” he replied. “It’s just—why waste your time? That team is practically a ghost. No wins. No support. Coach is barely holding it together.”
“And that’s exactly why I joined,” I shot back. “Because it needs someone. It needs people who believe in it.”
He tilted his head, a sarcastic smirk playing at his lips. “Look, I get it—you’re trying to find your place here. But there are, I don’t know, better places. Yearbook. Choir. Debate. You sing, right? Join karaoke club or something.”
I felt the sting. The way he said it—like I was this tiny, fragile thing that needed to stay in a safe box.
“I’m not here to do what’s safe, Alec,” I said quietly. “I’m here to grow.”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling under his skin. “You don’t even know how football works. And the girls on that team? They’ll eat you alive.”
I met his eyes. “Then I’ll let them try.”
Alec stared at me for a beat—those stormy eyes flickering with something I couldn’t place. Pity? Worry? Disbelief?
“You’re being stubborn,” he muttered.
“And you’re being narrow,” I replied.
He let out a breath, clenching his jaw. “Fine. Waste your time chasing something dead. But don’t come crying when it backfires.”
I watched him walk away, shoulders tense, his back to me.
And yet… I didn’t feel small.
Not this time.
Instead, I stood taller—like I belonged to something bigger than this hallway, this school, even this country.
Because for the first time since I landed here—
I wasn’t just adjusting.
I was becoming.
My backpack thudded against the library table as I dropped into the seat and let out a sigh.
Free period. Finally.
Everyone else probably used this time to scroll through their phones or nap in some empty corner of campus. Me? I had a mission.
I logged into one of the library computers, adjusted the squeaky chair, and typed in the first thing that came to mind:
“Football basics for beginners.”
A dozen videos and articles popped up. Diagrams of the field. Animated plays. Positions I’d never heard of—tight end, wide receiver, quarterback. I tried to take it all in like a sponge dropped in a puddle, but everything looked like tangled spaghetti. Still, I wasn’t going to let confusion stop me.
I leaned in, furrowed my brow, and clicked on a video titled “Football 101: Understanding the Game.”
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Downs, yards, touchdowns…”
“You studying football?” came a voice beside me.
I nearly jumped.
I turned to see Irene, plopping down next to me with her iced coffee and signature energy. Behind her was someone I hadn’t expected—Felix. Messy curls, lean build, that usual easygoing smirk like he was in on a joke no one else knew.
“Guilty,” I said with a half-smile. “I need to catch up before tryouts.”
Irene lit up. “She joined the Women’s Football Team!” she said, nudging Felix like she’d just revealed a surprise twist in a movie.
Felix blinked, surprised. “Wait—you did?”
I nodded. “Is it that unbelievable?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Just... cool. Not a lot of girls volunteer to get tackled for fun.”
I laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Irene sipped her drink. “She’s serious about it too. Look at her, watching tutorials like she’s cramming for finals.”
Felix slid into the seat on my other side, eyes scanning my screen. “Alright, so what are you stuck on?”
“Literally everything,” I admitted, leaning back. “It’s all a blur.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Let's start simple.”
He grabbed a pencil from his backpack and flipped open one of his notebooks, sketching a rectangle.
“This is the field,” he said. “Offense tries to move the ball forward, defense tries to stop them. Every time they move ten yards within four downs—four tries—they get a new set of downs. Repeat until they score or get stopped.”
I leaned closer, watching as his hand moved across the page. He explained the key positions—quarterback, running back, wide receiver—with small stick figures, labeling each one in all caps like a coach’s playbook.
“You don’t have to memorize everything at once,” Felix added. “Just focus on the basics. Movement. Spacing. What each role does.”
I nodded, scribbling mental notes.
“You’ll probably start on special teams,” he said. “Kickoffs. Returns. It’s where most new players get their first reps.”
“What do I need to be good at?” I asked, glancing up at him.
“Speed,” he said without hesitation. “Quick reactions. Agility. Heart.”
I looked down at the notebook again, and for a moment, everything seemed… less overwhelming.
“I’ve got Taekwondo and Badminton,” I said. “So… I guess I’m fast?”
Felix grinned. “That’s already an edge. And you’re not afraid to jump in, which is huge.”
“Thanks,” I said, my voice softer. “Seriously.”
Irene smiled from her seat, watching the two of us. “See? You’ve already got your own football tutor.”
Felix shrugged modestly. “Anytime.”
The bell rang again, breaking the moment.
I packed up my things, but the weight I felt earlier was lighter now. Like I’d taken the first real step—not just deciding to join the team, but understanding the game I was stepping into.
“Hey,” Felix said as I swung my backpack on. “If you ever want to watch film or go over plays—let me know. I’ve got a few game tapes.”
My chest warmed at the offer. “I’d like that.”
As I walked out of the library, I glanced back at the computer screen—paused on a diagram of the field—and smiled.
I was still a beginner.
But I wasn’t alone.
- Writer
