Number one and only. [Nicholas &team]

Chapter 2 - The Match

One month into the new school year, Northbridge High’s gates stood tall and intimidating in front of Nicholas. He adjusted the strap of his worn black backpack on one shoulder, feeling the weight of both the bag and the decision that had brought him here. Late admission, full scholarship — a fresh start. That’s what everyone kept telling him. But right now, all it felt like was walking into the unknown.
His black rectangular frames slid down the bridge of his nose for the third time in two minutes. He pushed them back up, sighing under his breath as his sneakers squeaked against the spotless marble floor.
The hallway was… strangely silent. Too silent.
Nicholas slowed his steps, glancing at the rows of lockers gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Every classroom door was closed. No voices. No footsteps. Just him.
Did I get the wrong day? Or is this one of those creepy rich-kid schools that do surprise exams in the auditorium?
He kept walking until he reached a wide staircase, his footsteps echoing. That’s when he heard it — a thud, the sharp slap of sneakers hitting steps in a rush. Two boys barreled down from the upper floor, nearly colliding with him.
One of them shot him an annoyed glare. “Watch it!”
The other grabbed his friend’s arm. “Bro, come on, we’re running late! The match has already started!”
“The… match?” Nicholas repeated, blinking.
But the boys were already halfway down the next flight. Nicholas called out, “Uh—wait! Teacher’s room? Where—?”
The shorter one glanced back, pointing to the farthest corridor on the left without stopping. “That way!”
Then they were gone.
Nicholas adjusted his bag again, brows furrowed. What match?
The whole place still felt like a ghost town, which only made the silence stranger after that burst of noise. He followed the boy’s directions, turning left into a quieter hall where polished wood doors lined the walls. A gold plaque reading “Staff Room” came into view, and Nicholas took a steadying breath before stepping inside.
The room smelled faintly of coffee and paper. A few teachers sat at their desks, some glancing up at him. One man — tall, broad-shouldered, with a clipboard in hand — looked directly at him.
“Scholarship student?” the man asked, voice neutral.
Nicholas nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The man gestured toward a woman seated near the window. “Miss Lia. She’s your homeroom teacher.”
Miss Lia stood up with a warm smile. She was petite, with shoulder-length hair and a cardigan that looked too soft to be part of any strict dress code. “Welcome to Northbridge High, Nicholas. You can head to your class now, and then, if you like, you can go join everyone on the field. The match is about to start.”
Nicholas frowned slightly. “What match?”
Miss Lia’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Basketball. You’ll understand when you see it.”
Still confused, he thanked her and left the room, her laughter following him faintly into the hall.

The classroom wasn’t hard to find. Sunlight spilled in through tall windows, dust motes drifting in the warm air. Only a few bags were scattered across desks; the place felt abandoned.
Nicholas slid into a seat near the back — second last row — and let his backpack slump against the desk leg. Curiosity tugged at him, and he leaned toward the window.
From here, the basketball court was in full view. A massive crowd filled the bleachers, the noise spilling faintly into the classroom — cheers, whistles, the rhythmic thump of a ball being bounced.
Nicholas tilted his head, watching flashes of jerseys dart across the polished court. Banners waved in school colors. Even from this distance, the energy was infectious.
For a few minutes, he sat there, telling himself he didn’t care. He was here to study, not get swept up in whatever hype this was.
But then the cheers grew louder — almost deafening — and curiosity got the better of him.
Nicholas stood, slung his bag over one shoulder, and murmured under his breath, “Might as well see what the fuss is about.”
And with that, he headed for the court.