Mr. Charles, our homeroom teacher, walked into the classroom holding a stack of papers in his hands, his face a calm mask of professionalism.

The tension in the room instantly spiked; I could practically feel the nervous energy radiating from my classmates as he stepped to the front of the class.

“Good morning, everyone,” he began, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Your test papers have been checked.”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the room, rising like a tide as students began whispering among themselves.

Some were anxious, some excited, and others just curious.

I glanced over at Sarah, who sat a few rows ahead of me.

She was leaning forward, her expression calm but her eyes focused.

She knew what was coming, just as I did.

Mr. Charles raised an eyebrow. “Do you all want me to announce the marks?”

There was a pause.

Normally, the class would groan at the idea of having their scores announced publicly.

But today was different.

All eyes flickered between Sarah and me, eager to see who had come out on top this time.

Almost in unison, everyone replied, “Yes, sir.”

“Alright then,” Mr. Charles said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll start calling out the students.”

He began reading out names, one by one, with their respective scores.

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation.

Students nodded or sighed with relief—or groaned in disappointment.

My heart was pounding, and I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

This was the moment of truth, a showdown that would either confirm my hard work or humble me before Sarah and the rest of the class.

His subject, Mathematics, was the first.

Math had always been a strong point for both Sarah and me.

The test had been notoriously challenging, filled with tricky equations and complex problems.

I had spent hours studying, going over every formula, every theorem until I could see them even with my eyes closed.

“Sarah… full marks,” Mr. Charles announced, and a few students clapped politely.

I felt a jolt of adrenaline rush through me, and I could see Sarah’s lips curl into a satisfied smile.

“Michael… full marks.”

A few more claps, this time mixed with a ripple of excitement.

We were neck and neck, as expected.

I exhaled slowly, my heart rate beginning to settle.

The real battle had only just begun.

Then came the Language class.

I knew this would be my weak point. Words and literature didn’t come as naturally to me as numbers did. Mr. Charles read out Sarah’s name first.

“Sarah… 97.”

A soft murmur of approval passed through the room.

I knew what was coming next, and my stomach tightened.

“Michael… 93.”

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There was a collective “ooh” from the class, and I could feel a few eyes on me.

I glanced at Sarah, who caught my gaze and gave a small, triumphant nod.

I returned a wry smile, acknowledging her lead.

The gap was there, but the race wasn’t over yet.

Next up was Science.

Both Sarah and I were strong in this subject, and I was determined to make up for the language deficit.

Mr. Charles read the scores, and I could feel the tension building.

“Sarah… 95.”

I held my breath.

“Michael… 98.”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

The class buzzed with surprise, and Sarah raised her eyebrows slightly.

The gap between us had narrowed again.

We took a break for lunch, but the suspense continued to hang in the air like a thick fog.

My friends were all buzzing, trying to guess who would win in the end, throwing around theories like it was some kind of game.

But for me, it was more than that.

It was a matter of pride.

After lunch, it was time for the Arts period.

My heart sank a little; I already knew this wasn’t going to be my strong suit.

I glanced at Sarah, who was practically glowing with confidence.

This was her territory.

“Sarah… 95,” Mr. Charles announced, and a wave of applause and nods followed. She smiled, her confidence only growing.

“Michael… 92.”

There was a louder reaction this time—a mix of surprise and amusement.

Sarah was definitely ahead now, and I could feel the balance tipping.

I tried to brush it off, reminding myself that this wasn’t over yet.

Finally, it was time for Physical Education. This was where I knew I had the advantage. Sarah was smart, no doubt, but I had always been the one excelling in sports. My nerves were on edge as Mr. Charles read the scores.

“Sarah… 92.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the energy shift.

“Michael… 94.”

Cheers erupted from my friends, and a sense of satisfaction washed over me.

I was back in the game, the scores closer than ever.

Sarah gave me a small, good-natured smile, and I knew she felt the same thrill of the challenge.

The room was abuzz with speculation and excitement.

Everyone knew this was going to be close.

With every subject, we had pushed each other, stretched each other’s limits.

The final results were announced, and as I had expected, Sarah was ahead of me overall.

The gap between us was very small, but it was enough for her to claim victory this time.

As our eyes met across the classroom, she flashed me a triumphant smile, one that was filled with a mix of pride and good-natured teasing.

Her friends couldn’t resist smirking at my friends, who rolled their eyes in playful annoyance.

And just like that, our rivalry, which had simmered down over the past month, reignited with full force.

I could feel that familiar, competitive fire burning within me again, and I knew Sarah felt it too.

This wasn’t over—far from it.

My friends and I vowed to be more active and focused this time, and we threw ourselves into our studies and training with renewed vigor.

Months flew by in a blur of intense preparation and friendly challenges.

We all knew what was coming—the sports activities were right around the corner, and this was where we would have another chance to prove ourselves.

One day, as the excitement in the school reached a fever pitch, Mr. Charles walked into our classroom, a grin playing on his lips.

"Alright, everyone,” he began, raising his voice slightly over the chatter.

“You all know that inter school sports tournaments are about to start soon.”

A cheer rippled through the classroom, and a wave of excitement swept over us.

Some students leaned forward eagerly, while others exchanged enthusiastic whispers.

Even I could feel my heart beating faster, a mix of anticipation and determination coursing through me.

“So,” Mr. Charles continued, his voice rising above the commotion, “interested students can give their names to the class representatives. The rest of the rules and criteria will be explained by them.”

With that, he gave a nod to Sarah and me, then exited the room, leaving us in charge.

I exchanged a quick glance with Sarah; we both knew we had a lot to cover.

We stepped forward, facing our classmates, who were buzzing with energy.

“Alright, listen up!” I called out, and the room quieted slightly.

“As you know, the sports tournaments aren’t just any regular events. They’re competitions between various schools, and this is our chance to prove ourselves.”

Sarah stepped in seamlessly, picking up where I left off.

“Every student can participate in a maximum of two sports, so choose wisely. This isn’t just about fun—it's about representing our school and showing what we’re made of.”

I nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of responsibility.

“Our P.E. teachers will be coaching the respective sports. For example, Mr. George will be overseeing football and relay racing. So, if you’re interested in those, be prepared for some serious training.”

A few students nodded with determination, and I could see the wheels turning in their heads as they began to consider their choices.

“Our school isn’t necessarily the best at all sports,” Sarah continued, her tone serious but encouraging.

“But that’s why we need to put in our best effort. This is our chance to make a mark, to push beyond our limits, and maybe even surprise everyone—including ourselves.”

I could feel the atmosphere shift.

The students were fired up now, and I could see the competitive spirit in their eyes.

This was more than just a game for them—it was a chance to prove their mettle, to rise above and make a statement.

“We’ll be collecting names for those interested,” I concluded. “So come talk to us, think about what sports you’re passionate about, and get ready to give it your all.”

With that, the classroom erupted into excited discussions.

Students started crowding around us, eager to sign up and ask questions.

My friends and I exchanged determined looks; this was our time to shine, and we were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Hey, by the way, which sports are you going to sign up for?" Sarah asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity as we finished explaining the rules to the class.

"Obviously football," I replied confidently. "My friends have already signed up. Umm... What about you?"

"Basketball and badminton," she said with a determined smile. "What about your second sport?"

I shrugged. "I usually only participate in one sport. Never felt the need to spread myself too thin."

"Umm... okay," she nodded, seeming to ponder my answer, but she didn’t press further.

We both carried on with our work, organizing the lists and managing the names of the students signing up.

Over the next few days, a lot of students came forward to join various sports.

I knew, though, that most wouldn’t make it to the final teams—there were only so many spots, and competition was fierce.

My friends all chose their second sports without hesitation: Steve and Donovan signed up for the relay race, Paul decided on sprinting, and Gunther, with his sheer strength, went for shot put.

As for me, I had considered signing up for a second sport, but my stamina wasn’t great, and I wasn't exactly skilled in anything else besides football.

I was content sticking with just one sport, thinking everything would go smoothly with that decision.

But then, a few days later, everything changed.

"Michael, you should sign up for badminton," Mr. George said to me unexpectedly one afternoon, as we were finishing up practice.

"What?" I blurted out, blinking in confusion. Badminton was the last thing on my mind.

He chuckled at my bewildered expression.

"I’ve been reviewing the lists, and there hasn’t been much participation in badminton this year. The students who have signed up so far... well, let’s just say they’re not quite up to par."

I hesitated, frowning.

"But... what if I don't have the stamina to play football if I also sign up for badminton?"

My thoughts were already racing.

Balancing two sports was no small task, especially with my stamina issues.

"Don’t worry about that," Mr. George reassured me, his tone calm but firm.

"I checked the schedule, and football and badminton matches are all on different days. You won’t have to worry about playing both on the same day. It’s a good opportunity for you, Michael."

I weighed his words carefully.

The idea of signing up for a second sport had never really crossed my mind, but I knew Mr. George wouldn’t suggest it without good reason.

His faith in me sparked something—an urge to push myself further, to try something new.

"Hmm... okay," I finally said, nodding slowly. "I’ll give it a shot."

A satisfied smile spread across Mr. George's face. "Good. I think you’ll surprise yourself."

And with that, I found myself signing up for a second sport this year.

Badminton was new territory for me, but I felt a surge of excitement mix with the nerves.

This was going to be a different kind of challenge—a chance to grow, to test my limits, and to see just how far I could go.