VULNERABLE

REMATCH, REVENGE AND CROCS

ABIDAT

I analyzed the outfit I picked out for today's football game. I had made a mental note to attend, convincing myself it wasn't because Armaan was playing. I chose a pair of pale blue cargo pants that hugged my hips, emphasizing my curves. The shirt was oversized, a pearly white piece with some random Chinese writing on it. I had no idea which brand it was since I purchased it from a market stall at half its original price.

To cover my pale arms, I brought along an inner long-sleeve shirt. I paired the outfit with white Crocs and a matching blue hijab. Although I wasn’t usually a fan of accessories, today I found myself reaching for a gold necklace my mom had gifted me on my 13th birthday. It was simple but clearly branded, judging by the container it came in—an expensive one too.

I also grabbed a blue peacap to match the jeans, with "SCORE" boldly written across it. I quickly put on my clothes over my green underwear, applying a bit of kohl and lip gloss.

As fate would have it, I encountered the mirror. Since the first day of school, I had avoided it, but today I stood in front of it in the exact same position—only this time, I had clothes on. My skin was glowing for some reason, and unlike last time, I had a smile on my face. It seemed to appear every time I thought of Armaan.

I moved away from the mirror, slipping into my Crocs and grabbing my peacap and iPhone X. I didn't feel like taking a bag, even though I had a periwinkle-colored one that would have gone perfectly with the outfit. I quickly wore the necklace and made my way out of the closet, plopping myself on the bed.

The second I switched on my phone, Laila's message popped up. I had decided to drag Laila along with me since I wasn’t as confident as she was. She would act as a sort of barrier between me and Armaan.

Laila: hey babes I'm downstairs

I quickly got up, sprayed on my signature perfume, and made a dash outside, stopping at Baba’s room since Mama was out.

"Baba, I'm going now. Do you need anything?" I asked from the door.

He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and put the newspaper down.

"No, I don't. Stay safe, habibti... actually, on second thought, use your money to buy me geda if you're coming back. Ina ta kwaɗayin shi amma mamanki ta ce bazata siyan mum ba," he said, shaking his head at the thought of it (groundnut; I've been craving it, but your mother said she wouldn't buy it for me).

"Okay, Baba, I'll get it on my way back," I chuckled, waving at him before exiting the house and spotting Laila leaning on the passenger side of the Mercedes-Benz she had brought along with her driver.

She was clad in a pair of flare jeans that hugged her thighs and the oversized navy-blue school jersey she had claimed from her brother once he graduated. Like me, she wore a pair of Crocs, though hers were blue. She completed the look with a black hijab and some sunglasses.

"Omo, who's this fine babe wey I see?" I teased as I reached her. She grinned and twirled before hugging me.

"See who's talking, you look like a model!" I curtsied before chuckling as we entered the car, giving the driver the go-ahead to move.

---

"Wai, who are we playing against?" I finally asked, putting my phone down. We were 10 minutes away from school, and I was eager to know who we were up against this time.

"I think I heard Jamal saying we're playing against Burley High. *Sha*, I don't know, but if it's them, they have no shame."

"They seriously don't have any shame after the way Alisque finished them off with that final goal... 7-2, and they still want a rematch. This time, I'm going to poke out the eyes of those cheerleaders or whatever they call themselves."

Burley High was a school in Jabi. Most of the students were mixed race, and they normally played with our junior students. But last term, the school finally agreed to let us have a match with their senior students.

As handsome as they were, they were also full of pride—too much pride. They claimed they could beat our school with ease, and some even made bets with our classmates.

But as quickly as their egos inflated, they deflated when they lost 2 to 7. It seems they didn't accept the loss and were back for a rematch. What I hated most was the group of senior and junior girls who came along to cheer for them. They made snide remarks about our school, but one of our classmates, Sakina, put them in their place.

I especially disliked them because one of the girls said I was too fat or something along those lines. But I made sure she knew how "fat" I was when I "accidentally" pushed her, making her fall and hit her forehead, giving her a gruesome bump. She shut her mouth after that.

The car stopped, indicating we were at school, and Laila told the driver she'd call him when we were done.

I quickly tucked my oversized shirt in at the back and took a step towards the judgmental building called school.

---

School always seemed different on the weekend, and today was no exception. The boarders were out, mingling effortlessly with the day students.

Some girls were playing basketball while others were in classrooms with their friends. Most of the boys were on the field, dressed in their respective blue jerseys with their names on the back, white shorts, and matching soccer shoes.

I couldn't seem to find Armaan anywhere, but I told myself he sometimes came late.

Laila dragged me to the bleachers, where we sat and chatted, scrolling through our phones from time to time, until we heard the school gate being opened.

A cream-colored bus entered the school premises with "BURLEY HIGHSCHOOL" written on it, along with the school address beneath.

It was a large bus, the kind you'd see in American movies, except this one wasn’t yellow. The first people to exit were the players. As much as they might not like our school, they couldn't deny that they were painfully handsome. They wore white jerseys and shorts with black shoes. The girls trickled in after them, a giggling mess. Most of the girls were Nigerian and African, while the boys were mostly Arab, leaving a handful of African males and a lot of African females.

But their ethnicity didn’t stop them from being handsome. A coach and a nurse exited after them, and they all made their way to the field in long, confident strides.

I finally spotted Armaan in the corner, speaking with Coach Benson. He seemed angry, his brows furrowed and his puffed-out cheeks red. I assumed he also wasn’t happy with the school we were playing against.

With 10 minutes to go before the game started, I dragged Laila to the school shop, hoping to grab some snacks before kickoff.

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So I was editing and found out I didn't write an author's note so here I am.

I want to know where yall are from.

So pls comment your answers and vote.