The lunch bell rang, echoing through the halls. Students poured into the cafeteria in noisy streams, trays clattering and voices rising in chatter. But Tolu and Leke slipped away from the crowd, cutting across the courtyard until they reached the school field.
The sun sat high, warming the turf, and the faint smell of cut grass lingered in the air. They dropped their bags on the bleachers and sat, watching a few juniors kick a ball around.
Leke stretched his legs out with a sigh. "Bro, you know what's been on my mind?"
Tolu glanced at him. "Food?"
Leke grinned. "Aside from that. Football." He sat up, leaning forward. "We're about to become seniors. Don't you think it's time we stopped warming the bench? I'm tired of being a sub. I want a shot at the starting eleven."
Tolu nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the boys running drills. "I've been thinking the same thing. Coach says experience matters, but at some point, we've gotta prove we're more than just backup."
"Exactly," Leke said, smacking his fist into his palm. "We've got the speed, the footwork. All we need is to show him we can handle the pressure."
Tolu smirked. "So… we just make ourselves impossible to ignore."
Leke laughed, leaning back on his hands. "That's the spirit. Starting eleven, bro. No more watching from the sidelines."
The whistle from across the field blew, snapping their attention back to reality as more students began gathering. Lunch was ticking away, but the fire in their eyes made it clear—this year was going to be different.
Tolu and Leke were still talking when the sharp blast of a whistle cut across the field. Heads turned—Coach Oyewale, cap pulled low and hands on his waist, was striding out with his usual no-nonsense look.
"Alright, boys!" his voice boomed, cutting through the chatter. "Since I'm in a good mood today, you're only running ten laps around the field."
A collective groan rippled through the team. Some muttered under their breath, others just shook their heads, already regretting stepping onto the field.
Coach Oyewale blew the whistle again. "Move it!"
At once, the players broke into motion, jogging along the edge of the pitch in a long uneven line. Tolu and Leke fell into step beside each other, breathing steady as their cleats slapped against the ground.
"Ten laps," Leke muttered between breaths, "and he says that's him in a good mood."
Tolu chuckled. "Better than twenty. You remember last term?"
"Don't remind me," Leke groaned, shaking his head as they pushed forward.
By the time the tenth lap ended, most of the boys collapsed onto the grass in a heap of groans and heavy breathing. Leke was among them, arms sprawled as if he might never get up again.
He tilted his head just enough to see Tolu standing a little ways off, only slightly winded, calmly gulping down water from his bottle.
"How the hell… are you not tired?" Leke gasped out.
Tolu wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing steady. "I guess… I'm adapting to it."
Leke groaned louder, flopping back onto the ground. "Adapting, he says. You're not normal."
Before Tolu could respond, Coach Oyewale's sharp voice rang out across the field. "Alright, enough lying around! As usual, subs against the starting eleven. Everyone, to your positions!"
A chorus of reluctant grunts followed, but the boys dragged themselves up, jogging sluggishly toward their spots on the pitch.
The boys shuffled into their positions, some dragging their feet, others already snapping into focus. The starting eleven spread out confidently across the pitch, while the substitutes—Tolu and Leke among them—took their places opposite.
Coach Oyewale stood at the sideline, whistle between his teeth, eyes scanning them like a hawk. "Subs, you want to be starters? Prove it. Let's see what you've got."
The shrill blast of the whistle pierced the air.
The ball was dropped at midfield, and the game surged into motion. The starters pressed forward aggressively, moving the ball with the ease of players used to playing together. Within seconds, one of their midfielders broke through and launched a pass down the wing.
Tolu sprinted to intercept. His feet moved before his mind even caught up—reflexes sharp, movements smooth. He stretched his leg out and tapped the ball away just as the striker closed in. The crowd of players groaned in disappointment, but Leke shouted from the back, "That's it, bro!"
Tolu didn't stop. He cut the ball back, shielding it with his body as a senior defender pressed in. Normally, he might've panicked or passed it away too quickly. But this time, it felt different. His breathing was steady, his vision sharp—he could see the angles, the spaces. With a quick turn, he slipped past the defender and sent the ball rolling toward Leke.
"On your left!" Leke called, darting past his marker.
The two connected like clockwork—Tolu feeding Leke, Leke flicking it back, the ball bouncing perfectly into stride. They charged forward, a blur of movement, and suddenly it was just them against the starting goalkeeper.
Leke swung first, testing the keeper. The shot was blocked, but the rebound spun back into play. Tolu was already there, his instincts pulling him into the right place before the others reacted. With a single, clean strike, he buried the ball into the bottom corner of the net.
The substitutes erupted in cheers. Even some of the starters muttered in surprise.
Coach Oyewale's eyes narrowed—not with disapproval, but with interest. He folded his arms, watching closely now.
The game carried on, faster, fiercer. The starters tried to reassert dominance, pushing the subs back. They launched shot after shot, but Tolu's reactions were uncanny. Twice he intercepted passes that seemed impossible to reach. Once, he darted in between two players, stealing the ball so smoothly the striker just froze in disbelief.
Sweat poured, lungs burned, but Tolu felt alive. Strong. Focused. It was like his body was moving in perfect rhythm with the game.
By the time Coach's whistle ended the match, the field buzzed with chatter. The starters had won, but it was close—far closer than anyone expected.
As the boys gathered, Coach Oyewale strode into the center, his voice carrying weight. "Good game. Starters, you did your job. Subs—" His gaze swept over them, pausing briefly on Tolu. "Some of you are finally showing you belong on the other side of the pitch."
Leke elbowed Tolu, grinning ear to ear. "Bro… you were on fire out there. If he doesn't bump you up soon, he's blind."
Tolu just exhaled slowly, his heart still racing. For the first time, he truly believed it. They weren't just benchwarmers anymore—his chance was coming.