It had already been two months since school started, and finally… the district meet was coming.
I was now in Grade 9. Back in elementary, I played basketball every chance I got. But when I entered high school and transferred to a new school, they didn't even have a basketball program.
Why? Because almost everyone was too short.
After two years, I transferred again—this time to a school that was only three years old. Everything looked new: the buildings, the court, even the hallways. For a public school, it felt surprisingly modern and almost royal.
"Ugh… where is the teacher's office?" I muttered.
I'd been here for two months and still couldn't memorize where all the offices were. The campus was huge, and every hallway felt the same.
As I turned a corner, I bumped into another student.
"!"
"S-sorry!" I apologized quickly.
"Oh? It's fine," he said, removing his AirPods. He looked at me properly, and I finally noticed how tall he was.
I'm 5'8—tall for a Filipino—but this guy was taller. Broad shoulders, long arms… probably played volleyball or basketball.
I must have stared too long because his expression turned awkward. I bowed again, embarrassed.
Then I remembered why I was wandering in the first place.
"Hey… do you know where the teacher's office is?" I asked.
"Oh, that? I actually came from there," he said politely. "Just walk straight toward the Grade 7 rooms. The office is on the right side."
"Thank you!" I said—too loudly.
A few students around us turned their heads. My jaw tightened from embarrassment. I bowed again for no reason and hurried toward the direction he pointed.
After walking through two hallways and a courtyard, I finally found the Grade 7 building. And just to the right was the teacher's office.
I took a deep breath.
This was why I came: to sign up for the intramurals.
My only chance to try out for the district meet.
I knocked lightly on the door.
"Come in!" a woman's voice called.
I pushed the door open, and the first person I saw was my adviser—a young teacher, cheerful, and honestly very pretty.
"Oh! It's you, Jamie!" she said excitedly.
"Jamie?" another teacher said from the back. She was older, maybe in her 40s or 50s… though honestly, she looked closer to 60.
"Our transfer student," my adviser explained.
I bowed politely. "Good morning, teachers."
The older teacher laughed. "Morning? It's already noon."
I froze. Right. I forgot the time again.
Great—another embarrassing moment.
My adviser smiled. "So, Jamie, what brings you here?"
I swallowed, then answered clearly:
"I want to sign up for the intramurals—specifically for the basketball team."