Chapter 6 [Ace]

One week later

The day of the inter-school volleyball match finally arrived. I could feel the adrenaline building up as I walked onto the court. Little Flower High’s gym was packed with students, all buzzing with excitement, but my focus was solely on the game. Volleyball had always been my sport—one I loved deeply. The feeling of the ball in my hands, the rush of making a perfect set, the satisfying thud of a well-placed spike—nothing compared to it.

Annie was there, too. I spotted her among the crowd with a few other girls from our class, all cheering and waving pom-poms. It felt strange, though, knowing she was watching. We’d barely talked outside of the last week, but something about having her there—her eyes on me—made my heart race just a bit faster.

The first set ended, and the scoreboard showed the opponent in the lead at 1-0. I shook my head. It wasn’t over yet.

Coach made a quick substitution and switched our setter. AD was in now. I didn’t need to worry, though. I was ready for the second set.

The whistle blew.

I lined up, standing tall, my muscles tensed and ready. The serve came flying over the net, and everything seemed to slow down as I moved into position. A perfect pass from our libero set me up for the set. I grinned—this was my moment.

Without hesitation, I executed a setter’s dump. A quick, sneaky move—just a light touch of the ball, sending it to the other side of the net where their defense wasn’t prepared for it. The opposing team was caught off guard, scrambling to react.

The score was tight now, 22-23. We were in the lead, but the match wasn’t over yet. The ball was back on our side, and the tension was thick. Every pass, every set was critical. Our wing spikers were ready for me to set them up, but they weren’t the only ones eager to score.

I moved quickly, setting up for a first tempo set. I launched the ball perfectly to our middle blocker. He jumped, hitting it with precision, sending the ball crashing down onto the opposing team’s side. The score flashed: 24-23. We were on the verge of taking the second set.

The crowd went wild. The excitement was almost too much to handle. But the job wasn’t done yet.

I was serving now. I tossed the ball into the air, and with a sharp focus, I smacked it hard over the net. The opposing team’s setter received it and passed it to their right-wing spiker, who prepared for the attack. Our defender blocked the hit—one touch, and the ball ricocheted across the court.

“One touch!” the defender yelled.

The ball bounced off their hands and rolled toward the left side of the court. I could feel the seconds ticking by like hours. I dashed across the court, my heart pounding in my chest. Without thinking, I launched myself into a dive, my body crashing onto the floor as I reached out to scoop the ball up.

The pain hit instantly. My right hand slammed into the pillar as I turned mid-air to pass the ball back into our court. The impact shot a spike of agony through my wrist, but I ignored it. The game wasn’t stopping for me.

“Set to the left side!” I shouted through clenched teeth, my voice strained with effort.

I pushed myself up, my body screaming in protest, but I couldn’t afford to hold back. I sprinted to the left, jumping higher than I thought I could. My right hand swung through the air, smashing the ball with everything I had. It felt like the world paused for a fraction of a second as the ball flew, a perfect arc over the net, and landed hard on the opponent’s side.

Point.

Set.

Game. Little Flower won the second set.

The crowd erupted in cheers, but all I could feel was the pain coursing through my arm. My hand burned, and the ache in my wrist was unbearable, but I stood there, breathing heavily, trying not to show how badly I hurt. I’d dealt with worse. The adrenaline had dulled the pain for a moment, but now that the game was over, it was catching up to me.

I winced, clutching my wrist as the pain intensified. But I didn’t care. We were one set away from victory.