In between- Spoke x oc!Fem

XIII

The second day of the tournament began with a buzz of excitement and anticipation. As I walked into the gym with my team, I could feel the weight of the day ahead. Today wasn't just any day—today, we had two crucial games, and one of them was against Spoke's school. The thought of playing against his team had been lingering in my mind since we found out the matchups, and now that day was here.

Breakfast was a quick affair. The usual light-hearted banter was there, but I could tell everyone was focused, mentally preparing for the challenges ahead. I was no different. I had my airpods on listening to Brazilian funk, so I could get into the vibe. My mind kept replaying the strategies we'd practiced, the plays we needed to execute perfectly. There was no room for error today.

As we arrived at the gym, the atmosphere was intense. Teams were already warming up, the sound of volleyballs thudding against the floor and echoing off the walls. I caught sight of the other teams sizing each other up, but I was focused on one thing: winning.

Our first game was scheduled for 10 AM, and as we began our warm-up, the usual pre-game jitters settled in. Our opponents were tough, that much was clear. They moved with precision and confidence, and I knew this was going to be a fight. The first whistle blew, and we took our positions on the court, ready to battle it out.

The first set started off strong. My team was in sync, each of us playing our roles to perfection. The energy was palpable, and I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I jumped to block a spike, the ball bouncing back onto their side of the court. We took the first set 25-20, and a wave of relief washed over us, but we knew we couldn't get too comfortable.

The second set was just as intense. We kept up the pressure, our serves sharp, our defence tight. The other team was good, but we were better. We won the set 25-19, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe we had this in the bag.

But volleyball is unpredictable. The third set proved that. The other team came out with a renewed fire, their attacks more aggressive, their blocks more solid. We struggled to keep up, and despite our best efforts, we lost the set 20-25. It was a wake-up call, a reminder that this was far from over.

The fourth set was gruelling. Every point was hard-fought, the score climbing steadily as both teams refused to back down. I could feel the tension in the air, each of us pushing ourselves to the limit. At 24-23, we had match point. My heart raced as I positioned myself at the net, ready for whatever came our way. The ball was spiked hard toward me, and I jumped, my hands meeting the ball and sending it crashing to the floor on their side. 25-23. We'd won the game 3-1.

We huddled together, celebrating our victory. The relief and joy were overwhelming, but there was no time to dwell on it. Our next game was against Spoke's school, and that was the match I was most excited and nervous about.

As we started warming up for the second game, I couldn't help but glance over at their team. They looked strong, confident, just as I expected. But so were we. My eyes drifted to the bleachers, searching for a familiar face. There he was—James, or Spoke as I knew him online, sitting with his friends. He caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up, his way of saying, "You've got this." I smiled back, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

The game started, and immediately, it was clear this was going to be a tough match. Their team was well-coordinated, their serves powerful, their spikes precise. We fought hard, but they took the first set 25-22. It was a close set, and I could feel the frustration starting to build. But there was no time for that—we needed to focus on the next set.

The second set was even tougher. The score stayed close, but they managed to edge us out again, 25-23. It was disheartening to be down two sets, but I refused to let it get to me. We weren't out of this yet.