A few weeks had passed. Zayan, my brother, fit in the school immediately. He quickly joined the football team and made friends instantly.
In the corridors and in the canteen, I often heard his name "Zayan did this" and "You would be we believe what Zayan said". It was exhausting, didn't these teenagers have anything else better to do?
Whenever me and Zayan saw each other, we ignored each other's existence as if we were strangers. It helped that we did not have the same surname, since I took my mother's and he took my father's and the fact we did not look alike. We did not. Not at all.
It was the second match of the football season. I found myself amongst the crowd in the strands, gripping the cold railing.
As much as I disliked my brother and found him annoying, I loved him and would undoubtedly support him through his football matches. I knew how much football meant to him.
I cheered as the Year 9 football team came onto the pitch. I received a few looks, from Year 9s and 10s in the crowd
"Why're you cheering for Year 9?" a short girl with brunette hair asked, confused.
"Just… felt like it," I said quickly, eyes fixed on the pitch. No way was I telling them the truth. If anyone knew I was Zayan's sister, it would be a repeat of what happened at my last school.
The whistle was blown, signalling the match had begun.
The match went on and I cheered loudly for Zayan. He scored twice. And, each time I screamed louder.
Beside me, Tanisha looked at me confused.
I knew she wanted to ask me why I was cheering for the Year 9 team, when Hamza and Amir were in the Year 10 team.
Additionally, it was expected or rather the norm, to support the team in your year.
Without realising, my eyes spotted Hamza. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he moved rapidly. He was faster than usual and his jaw was set like stone and he grimaced. He wasn't smiling or laughing like he used to. And, he didn't seem as focused. He seemed distracted.
Despite his apparent distraction, his eyes tracked Zayan like a hawk. My stomach tightened, I had a bad feeling.
They clashed near the sideline. Hamza moved in hard to block him.
It wasn't just a tackle. It was too much.
Zayan went down hard with a loud thump, a choked cry tearing from him as he clutched his leg.
Everything in me dropped.
Before I even realised, I was shoving past bodies, climbing over the row, and running down the stands.
"Zayan!" I yelled, pushing through the sideline crowd.
Somewhere behind me, a girl's voice shrilled, "Back off! That's my boyfriend!"
I ignored her completely, dropping to my knees in the grass beside my brother.
"You okay?" I said, frantic, brushing mud from his cheek.
He winced but his eyes softened when he saw me. "Y-you didn't have to-"
"Don't talk. Can you move your leg?" I asked worriedly.
"A little," he said, gripping my arm for support.
"Move," I snapped at the people crowding us. "Give him space."
Immediately, Hamza appeared, breathless, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Litsen, I—"
I didn't even look at him. My jaw clenched.
I didn't care. My biggest priority was making sure my brother was okay.
My hand tightened on Zayan's shoulder as I hauled him up carefully. He was heavy, very heavy. But, somehow, I managed to haul him.
"Come on," I said to my brother, ignoring the crowd of spectators that had gathered around us. "We're going to the school nurse."
"Let me—" Hamza started, stepping closer.
I shoved past him.
"Don't," I said flatly, not meeting his eyes.
I looped Zayan's arm over my shoulder, supporting his weight as we made our way off the pitch. The girl from before tried to follow, still whining something about her boyfriend, but I didn't even look at her.
All I cared about was Zayan, limping beside me, leaning on me like he used to once upon a time.
All I felt was anger burning hot in my chest - not at the game, but at Hamza.