After discovering my ability to track players' positions, Mrs. Rebecca allowed me to continue participating in badminton.

However, I knew that if I wanted to secure a spot on the team, I’d have to work hard to improve my skills.

The team roster was limited to four players—two main players and two substitutes—and with Sarah almost guaranteed to be one of the mains, I needed to step up my game.

Determined to prove myself, I started practicing with Sarah every day.

She was patient but firm, showing me different techniques, correcting my mistakes, and challenging me to be quicker, sharper, and more strategic.

I also couldn’t neglect my first love, football.

My friends and I pushed ourselves hard, working on everything from passing drills to mastering free kicks.

We’d stay late after school, sweat pouring down our faces, as we tried to perfect our moves.

Out of all of us, Steve shined the brightest.

His control over the ball was flawless, and his presence on the field was commanding.

He seemed to know exactly when to pass, when to dribble, and when to take a shot.

It was like watching a pro in action.

"Hey, Steve, you’re really good," Paul said one afternoon, catching his breath after a particularly grueling drill. "Why don’t you try to go pro? I bet you could make it."

Steve wiped his brow and gave a small, thoughtful smile.

"There are a lot of good players in this world, and yeah, I’d love to play against them. But I haven’t really considered going pro," he replied.

I scoffed and grinned at him.

"Come on, man! Don’t you know people around here call you the Ace? The Ace of our team. Doesn’t that tell you something?"

Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

"Forget about this Ace thing. There’s still plenty of time to think about the future. Besides," he added, his expression turning a bit more serious, "have you guys heard the rumor?"

My ears perked up.

"What rumor?" I asked, intrigued.

Steve glanced at Paul, who was already smirking, then back at me. "There’s a rumor going around that there’s something going on between you and Sarah."

“What? Really!” Paul's eyes widened with a mischievous glint. “You like Sarah?!”

I stared at him, incredulous. "There’s no way in hell I like her!" I protested. "Who the hell is spreading such a rumor?"

"But I have seen you two laughing and having fun together alot of times."

"Yeah. Isn't it obvious you like her?"

Gunther and Donovan also joined in, grinning like a bunch of idiots.

"Well," Steve started, "you two do compete against each other all the time, and now you’re practicing badminton together almost every day. Wouldn’t it seem kind of obvious?"

I groaned, exasperated. "That’s just practicing badminton, nothing more!" I insisted.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Anyways, she’s here to see you,” Steve added, nodding toward the court.

I turned around to see Sarah and her friends walking over, their rackets in hand.

"Hey! It’s time to practice!" she called, her voice firm but cheerful as she headed toward the badminton court.

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I shot my friends a final glare.

“I’ll see you all later, and seriously, stop buying into stupid rumors.”

With that, I made my way to the court.

But as I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel my friends’ teasing echo in my mind.

Did they really think I liked Sarah?

The very idea seemed absurd.

Sure, we spent a lot of time together—practicing, challenging each other—but that was just... badminton, right?

I tried to shake off the thought as I picked up my racket and started warming up.

The rhythmic sound of shuttlecocks being hit filled the court.

I swung my racket, focusing on my form, but my mind kept drifting back.

Me and Sarah... there’s no way in hell there could be something between us.

She was just a rival, a friend, someone who pushed me to be better.

And yet, my friends had planted a seed of doubt that wouldn’t go away.

Suddenly, a sharp sting jolted me back to reality.

The shuttlecock hit me square in the face, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Ow!”

Sarah quickly rushed over, concern flashing in her eyes. "Are you alright?" she asked, her tone softening.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead.

Embarrassment washed over me as I realized how distracted I’d been.

But as I glanced at her, her black hair flowed like a dark river in the wind, strands clinging to her forehead slick with sweat.

Her cheeks were flushed from the exertion, her eyes fierce and focused.

There was something about the way she looked in that moment, raw and intense, that struck me.

She looked... beautiful.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked again, concern edging her voice.

What did I just think?

My heart skipped a beat, confusion swirling in my mind.

No, I don’t like her. I can’t like her.

“Yeah,” I stammered, trying to steady my voice. “I told you, I’m fine.”

But the words felt hollow, even to me.

I don’t like her. I don’t like her.

I kept repeating it in my head, like a mantra, willing myself to believe it.

But then she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with worry.

“I think you should take a break. Your face is kinda red,” she said softly.

She was so close, I could feel the warmth radiating off her, smell the faint scent of sweat mixed with something floral.

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing louder in my ears.

I don’t like her... right?

The rest of our practice passed in a blur. My thoughts were a tangled mess, my concentration shattered.

When it was finally over, I felt more exhausted from my own confusion than from the physical exertion.

My brain wouldn’t stop churning, her image replaying over and over.

This inexplicable feeling stayed with me, gnawing at me even outside the court.

Back in class, it showed. I became quieter, more distracted.

The usual spark of our competition seemed to fizzle out as I found myself lost in my own head.

Sarah noticed too.

She’d glance over, her brows knitting together, clearly wondering what was going on with me.

My friends teased me less because they saw something had changed, but they couldn’t put their finger on it.

The days passed, and I knew I needed to snap out of it.

The sports activities were coming up, and we had to focus on what mattered.

I pushed those confusing thoughts aside, throwing myself into more intense practice.

I had to get my head back in the game, to return to that fierce focus that defined me.

Finally, the day arrived when the team rosters would be announced.

There was an electric tension in the air as most of the high school students gathered in the field—students from first to third year all lined up, waiting.

Since our school wasn’t exactly known for sports, the upperclassmen were mostly focused on studies, leaving it to us, the first years, to carry the banner.

I looked around at my friends. Steve, Donovan, Paul, and Gunther stood with me, their faces a mix of nerves and excitement.

Sarah was across the way, her eyes scanning the teachers, completely in the zone.

My heart gave an annoying little flutter when I saw her, but I forced it down.

Focus, I told myself.

The P.E. teachers, including Mr. George and Mrs. Rebecca, stepped forward.

The chatter around us died down, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

The announcement was about to begin, and I could feel the collective breath of everyone around me, waiting, hoping to hear their name.

One by one, the P.E. teachers stepped up, each announcing the team rosters for their respective sports.

The tension in the air was almost tangible; everyone was on edge, hearts pounding with a mix of hope and nerves.

Sarah was among the first to be called.

“Sarah Winters, female basketball team.” As her name was announced, she walked up confidently, her friends cheering for her.

She had that determined look in her eyes, the same one she always wore when she was ready to take on any challenge.

I felt a sense of pride for her—she’d worked hard, and it paid off.

Next, Mr. George stepped forward to announce the male football team.

My heart drummed loudly in my chest, every muscle tense.

This was it—the moment we’d all been waiting for.

He started with the goalkeeper, a third-year senior who was also our team captain.

His name drew loud cheers from the crowd; he was a well-known face in the school.

Then, Mr. George began moving down the list, calling out names, and with each one, my anxiety built.

Finally, he reached the first years.

“Steve Matthews, Donovan Lee, Gunther Beck, Paul Harris…”

Each time he called one of my friends' names, I felt a surge of relief and excitement.

We were making it together.

“And Michael Hilton” My name echoed across the field, and for a second, it didn’t quite register.

Then it hit me, and I broke into a grin, my friends slapping my back and cheering.

We were all in—our group of friends, the entire first-year gang, were going to represent our school.

I could see the pride in Mr. George's eyes; he had believed in us from the start, and we hadn't let him down.

There were ten first years on the team out of the sixteen players.

The rest were a mix of second and third years—four and two, respectively.

The older students seemed to eye us with a mixture of surprise and grudging respect.

For a school that didn’t have a strong sports reputation, this was our chance to change that narrative.

After the football team was set, the other teachers took their turn.

My friends were also named for their second sports, each name called bringing more cheers and high-fives.

The excitement in the air was contagious.

Even though I didn’t have a second sport originally, I still listened eagerly.

Then, it was Mrs. Rebecca’s turn.

She had that steely look that demanded attention.

“Badminton team,” she began, her voice clear and firm. “Third-year, Davis Winters and Mary Ruth. First-year, Sarah Winters.”

No surprise there; Sarah was a natural. But then, my breath caught.

“and Michael Hilton.”

For a moment, I stood there in shock, unsure if I’d heard correctly.

Me? On the badminton team?

A wave of surprise rippled through the crowd, and I could feel eyes turning toward me.

Then, a slow smile spread across my face. I’d made it.

Not just on the football team, but in badminton too.

The doubt I'd carried about my skills seemed to lift, replaced by a surge of excitement and pride.

I glanced over at Sarah, who was smiling widely, and our eyes met.

She gave me a subtle nod, as if to say, 'I told you so.'

With the teams announced, the teachers began explaining the schedule and rules for the upcoming sports activities.

Mr. George was right—there were no overlapping days for football and badminton matches.

In fact, there were even a few days’ gaps between some games, giving me time to prepare and recover.

I felt a wave of relief and determination wash over me. I was going to give my all in both sports.

The reality began to sink in—this was happening.

We were all part of something bigger now, and as I looked around at my friends, my heart swelled with pride.

This wasn’t just about playing; it was about proving ourselves, about taking this chance to show everyone what we were made of.

And I was ready. We all were.