Fight To Love You Freen&Becky

Awakening?

It was already 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and I stood in front of seven girls, trying to form a cohesive volleyball team. Out of the seven, four were my classmates—two of whom were my best friends—and the remaining three were senior students from last year.

I'd chosen the best players from our gym class, where we had regularly competed against each other. I knew who was skilled, who understood the rules, and who was physically prepared.

"Okay, girls," I began, trying to sound as confident as possible despite my own doubts. "I know this situation is confusing for all of us—believe me, I'm more confused than anyone. But we need to pull together and form a strong team for our school. We're here to compete in this championship, and with a bit of luck, maybe even win."

Everyone nodded, though the surprise was evident in their expressions. We practised and worked on team-building exercises until 9 o'clock in the evening.

As we walked out of the school, the sky was dimming, and I spotted my father waiting for me beside my bicycle.

"Hey there, princess. Let's go home," he said, enveloping me in a warm hug. I could have fallen asleep right there in his arms. "Hey, kitty, stop purring. Let's get going."

We hopped onto our bikes and headed home.

"So, tomorrow is the big game, huh?" he asked as we pedaled side by side.

"Yes," I replied, frustration seeping into my voice. "And we're probably going to lose. We're a mess—nobody's listening to each other, and I'm not even sure if they can become a team."

"They? Who are 'they,' Becky?" he countered. "You're one of them. You're part of this team, and you're the captain. Instead of judging everyone else, maybe you should start by solving your own issues first. Come on, I know you're smart."

His words echoed in my mind as we cycled home in silence. I was lost in thought, wrestling with my own doubts and anxieties.

The next morning, I arrived at school by 6:30, ready to dedicate every hour leading up to the game to building a real team and ensuring we were prepared.

The girls started showing up around 7, and I was relieved to see their enthusiasm. We practised intensely until 1 o'clock, then took a well-deserved two-hour break before heading to the game.

By 4:30 in the afternoon, we were in the locker room of our opponents' school. We received our new uniforms, and to my surprise, I liked the design and colours. However, that excitement quickly turned to discomfort. My shorts were ridiculously short and tight. I wanted to complain, but when I looked around, everyone had the same type of shorts—short and tight.

I wanted to complain about the uniforms, but when I looked around, I noticed that everyone else was in the same predicament. The girls seemed oddly unfazed, admiring themselves in the mirror and adjusting their outfits with casual ease. They turned around to show off their figures, their movements so confident and relaxed.

I couldn't help but notice how tight and short the shorts were. As my gaze lingered, my heart started pounding for an entirely different reason. The girls' figures looked striking, and I found myself unnervingly aware of every curve and line. The realisation hit me like a jolt—my reaction to them wasn't just about the uncomfortable fit of the clothes.

"Stop it!" I mentally berated myself. "What's wrong with you? They're your friends. You're supposed to focus on the game, not—this. Why are you noticing this now? This isn't right. It's not supposed to feel like this."

A wave of panic surged through me as I grappled with the unexpected feelings. My chest tightened, and I felt dizzy, struggling to reconcile what I was experiencing.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the unwanted thoughts away, but they only seemed to intensify. "Get yourself together, Becky. Focus on the game, not on these confusing feelings. You're here to lead, not to deal with this mess."

My internal chaos mirrored the external noise of the sports hall, and I fought to regain my composure, pushing back the panic and trying to center myself for the game ahead.

Emy's voice broke through my thoughts as she pulled me from my seat.

"BecBec, you can make anything look gorgeous! How do you do that?"

"Oh, shut up," I replied, trying to refocus. "Girls, I know this is a big challenge, but let's give it everything we've got and win this game."

Despite my racing thoughts, I concentrated on the game.

As we entered the sports hall, the overwhelming noise and sheer number of people hit me like a tidal wave. The crowd's chatter, the clamour of footsteps, and the echoes of excitement from the stands made the room feel stifling. My chest tightened, and I could feel the walls closing in.

"There are so many people," I thought frantically. "I can't handle this. I need to go home. I can't do this. I need a pair of pants, anything—something to make me feel less exposed. Oh gosh, I'm going to faint. My head is spinning. Becky, get a grip!"

I could feel my heart racing, each beat a thunderous drum in my ears. My palms were clammy, and I struggled to catch my breath. The room seemed to sway, and I fought the rising panic threatening to overwhelm me.

"Think, Becky. You've prepared for this. Focus. You've got this," I tried to reassure myself, but my thoughts were a chaotic storm. I squeezed my eyes shut, took deep breaths, and tried to steady my trembling hands. The noise and the press of people around me felt like an avalanche, but I forced myself to take one step at a time, pushing through the panic.

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