Pfft!
Splash!
The transparent blue mirror of water scattered into white splashes, at this moment in the pool students open a waterway, the sound of professional teachers and freshmen playing sports science mixed with the sound of hip-hop, the weather is hot, with cold water, nothing can be used to describe its refreshing.
At the same time, Type, who is a Southerner (islanders living in the islands off the coast of Thailand), got into the water to get high after being allowed to move freely by the teacher.
Swimming is compulsory for everyone in the first year of Sports Science, those who can already swim are easy, those who don’t know how to swim have to work harder, they have to know how to swim by the end of the semester anyway, what do you say, Type is good at dog paddling. I don’t know…
“Type, when he learns basic stroke, he has to be the same standard as him!”
“If you don’t know how to swim, just say so, don’t act like you’re holding the edge of the pool with your hands.”
Since it’s a required course for every freshman, that’s why I met this high school classmate, No.
Type was in the science class and No was in the art class. In addition, it was a futsal school that organized color sports and there were ten classes in the first grade but the clothes were only five colors, so that year, they were divided into which classes and which colors.
So Type’s class is split with No’s class.
At first, he was not familiar with it but in the fifth grade (sophomore year of high school), there were not enough athletes, so the school called for volunteers, he had already played soccer, so he gave it a try and won.
Well, without further ado, he and No have been friends since high school.
The embarrassing thing is, he’s good with a ball but he can’t swim.
“It’s pathetic.” Type shakes his head, laughs and watches as he grabs the side of the pool and kicks in the water, the basics of swimming.
“You want to play soccer with me?” The easy loser’s invitation.
“Fu*ck you, why would I compete with you when I know I’m going to lose, don’t be stupid.” The dark-skinned boy joked, kicking over the edge of the pool, looking at the energetic man, just as the teacher had said.
“Silly or not, I’m still on the college team.”
“Having bigger muscles doesn’t means one has bigger brains, No.” Jokingly, I continued to pedal, not wanting to admit that I was really comfortable in the cool water under the hot sun and someone on the side asked:
“By the way, do you want to be on the team with me?”
“I don’t want to go, you know I can’t play, I’m just having fun.” Type answered seriously, to the amusement of his friend.
“Then you can be the instructor.”
“Aw, did you hear what I said or not, nag.”
“We won anyway.” And he’s saying, remembering this year’s Four Colours Games, that honestly, as soon as he entered the field, he grabbed the ball, Type’s position on the field was a fullback, defending the opposing team’s attacking backfield and the rest went to the forwards.
“Okay, I know you’re covering my back.” No began to pant, looking as if the daily workouts on the court weren’t helping in the water, gripping the edge of the pool with both hands until his friend nodded and his knuckles turned white.
