A Hundred Ways (and more)

022 - good luck

It happened years ago, when we both were still in eleventh grade; naive and didn't really care about anything else other than how to enjoy high school.

You were the the easygoing captain and mvp of the football club, and I was the editor for our school magazine. The dynamic of our friendship was weird, and people kept asking us 'Why?', but do you remember how we just laughed at it back then?

We used to ride back home together at 8.30 p.m after our tuition ended every Monday and Wednesday. You drove your bike full of concentration with me right behind you as we zigzagged through the busy road. You always complained how I was such a momma's girl but always so quick to snatch my hand everytime I walked away to catch the bus instead. Just get on, loser, you'd say.

I remember; 8.45 p.m, red light at crossroad near my house.

I was humming to a random product jingle played on the led billboard nearby when you suddenly leaned back for a bit, saying; "I have a tournament tomorrow."

"Oh yeah? So?" It was quite random, and I didn't expect you to say that out of nowhere so there you go; the excuse to my short, nonchalant reply.

You replied in a mumbling manner, voice burried under the traffic and car horns. My brows scrunched, unable to catch anything you said, so I rested my chin carefully atop of your shoulder. "What?"

You cleared your throat. "Do you think I'll win?"

"Did you practice? If you do, then of course you will," I chuckled lowly, looking at how many seconds left for the greenlight. 65 seconds. Damn it.

"Meanie ass," you hished playfully, nudging my cheek with a slight tilt of your head. "Do you want to watch?"

Now, I didn't tell you back then, but it caught me off guard. You were never the type to ask someone to go to your match (I knew, courtesy to being friends with you for almost two years). Back then, I didn't really put too much thought in it; except hey maybe if he really win, I'll have materials for this month's issue.

"I get to skip class then?" I asked, blinking my eyes with expectation.

You nodded. "You can skip class with legal permission. And get foods--also transport money as a club supporter."

Life was so simple years ago, I agreed in a hearbeat upon hearing foods and money. Maybe I nodded too much and it hurted your shoulder, so you patted my thigh, whinning.

The light turned green. As you pick your feet up the ground and put it on the gear, I leaned to say "Good luck!"

I wasn't really sure about it since it was dark and I couldn't see well without my glasses, but I think I saw you smiling through the rearview mirror. "Thankyou."

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I never knew how that would be the first time you asked me to watch your game. Funny how life turned out--today is probably almost the hundredth time I'm going to your game. Not as a club supporter anymore, but as your supporter.