Nobody Knows, But You

Meet Cute

Yahya

The 'guy' my dad said he knew was a former football coach of DIS. He and Dad also turned out to be old buddies. I want to say no strings were pulled, but it felt like it did when Dad's guy gave me a place on the school football team. I mean, I was given a center-forward, and I wasn't even a student there!

This former coach, Mr. Dhanial, was also a senior coach, which meant all the other coaches simply obeyed him still. I guessed that was how I got my position.

I was to come to the fields every weekday after school and every weekend morning. I loved that I already had a routine.

My first day was a Thursday. Since I had no better things to do, I decided to go to school that morning to see whether I could get a permit to check out the football field. I phoned Mr. Dhanial, and he said it was fine for me to get a visitor's permit.

At the reception area, I looked for the receptionist at the desk. 

No one. 

Nobody came for a really long ten minutes. There were hardly any students, but two by the huge notice board. I decided to risk it all and ask them when their receptionist normally made their appearance.

Huge mistake.

"Um, hi," I approached them. 

"Oh, hello. How may we help you?" The boy asked politely. He eyed me up and down, probably searching for the visitor tag and freaking out at the fact that I didn't have one.

I said, "I came to check out the football field." The girl next to him scrunched her nose. Weird. "And I was told I should register at the reception desk. I was wondering when-"

"Okay," The girl interrupted me, her index finger in the air."First of all, there is no football field " She also did air quotes. Again, weird.

 "All the sports teams use the sports arena. Mostly the cricket team." She said it smugly.

"I..I see. Thanks for the info. Could you-" I was cut off again. Seriously?

"And we have a match rehearsal." The girl carried on.

"No, you don't." The boy snorted.

"What do you mean?" The girl faced him, anger visible all over her face. 

"Our coach said we are having practice today."

"You don't need the outdoor arena for your silly volleyball practice." She practically spat those words.

This was getting very uncomfortable for me. Their conversation was heating up, and a few other students who were passing by stopped midway to witness the drama unfolding. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed the receptionist had come, and she seemed preoccupied with another student. Great.

"The field was already booked! By us!" The boy argued.

Okay, they'd definitely forgotten I was there, which was great. I could get away from them.

"But we don't even have to book it. It basically belongs to the cricket team!" This one came from the girl, who sounded very proud of her sport.

"Oh no, you didn't!" The boy gasped, sounding offended.

Huh.

I didn't want to pry, but I couldn't shake off my curiosity about the backstory. But I did feel uneasy. After all, I was the one who inadvertently ignited this conflict. It wouldn't look good for me if word got out that some random guy—namely, me—had caused a scene at their school so early in the morning. It would certainly not get me access to the fields.

So, I decided to step back. I made sure that nobody saw me, especially not the reception lady. I thought I had succeeded, but it seemed one student had caught sight of me—the one who was conversing with the receptionist earlier. I wouldn't be surprised if she knew that I was the one who had triggered the entire situation.

The frustrated-looking receptionist came over, and I made my way towards her desk, unnoticed by her angry gaze. By the time I arrived, the girl who had seen me sneaking away had already left.

I don't know why I felt the need to explain myself to her.

After resolving the dispute, the receptionist came back. "Hi! How can I help you?" She beamed, her demeanor changing from anger to a warm one in an instant. I explained my situation to her, and she asked no more questions and handed me a tag. She seemed tired already.

"Oh, and don't worry about Anika and Cameron." She waved a hand. "They do this every time the volleyball and cricket practices overlap." She must have sensed my unease. "We got volleyball only recently," she added in a whisper that wasn't a whisper.

"I see" 

DIS hasn't changed much.

With my permit in hand, I was free to explore the field. Mr. Dhanial said I would be able to find him near the benches or the staff room.

It turned out the boy—Cameron—was right. They did have volleyball practice that day. Some portable nets were spread across, and students in blue and yellow practice jerseys were running around hitting the ball in the air. On the ground where me and Dad played that night, he suggested I join the DIS football team.

After lingering around for a bit and conversing with some dudes, I decided to stop wasting time and get back in and find Mr. Dhanial.

I knew where the staff room was. I went here for some time after all. 

As it turned out, a bit of dislocation and updates had happened, and it took me until recess to find the staff room Mr. Dhanial was supposed to be in.

But when I got there, I didn't find Mr. Dhanial. He had taken an early leave and had left for home. 

Damn it. I should have called and made an official appointment with him. This turned out to be one of those times, where my impulsiveness led to consequences due to a lack of planning. If Tiff were here, she would have whistled and said, 'Classic Yahya'.

From my experience here, I knew DIS wakes up during recess. Students go wild. Sometimes in their native language. So it used to be my habit to rush to the sports field with my friends as soon as the bell rang so that I wouldn't accidentally tip off a random Latina classmate and make her yell at me in Spanish.

I've been there, done that, and learned my lesson.

Never mistake the Latino accent for Italian.

I hoped to meet the football guys when I returned to the fields. But it was still occupied by netball players.

This was getting boring. I was about to quit mindlessly roaming around a school where I didn't belong and head home.

But, then I heard a sniffle. 

It was so faint that I thought I was imagining it at first. Then it happened again. I stood still, to make sure I really wasn't imagining it. Then the sniffles turned into silent sobs. 

I crouched down and saw a student—a girl—sitting on the ground next to a seat. She was crying. And her head scarf already seemed wet with tears.

Bullies. That was my first thought.

As soon as my shadow was cast on her, she looked up, startled. I opened my mouth to say I wasn't one of the bullies. But she broke down into sobs once again. She was wiping away the tears with her hijab.

Me standing there was uncomfortable for both of us. But I couldn't walk away. Not after she saw me. No.

So I sat down next to her, maintaining an appropriate distance.