MATCH DAY

The weeks passed in a blur of bruises, late-night practice, and exhaustion Alonso hadn't known was possible. Each morning, he woke before the sun rose, sneaking out to the park near his apartment building.

It wasn't much, but it was all he had. A rusted chain-link fence surrounded the cracked concrete, and the faint outline of football markings faded years ago.

But the ball felt the same beneath his feet, and that was all that mattered.

He practiced everything—control, dribbling, shooting.

Alone in the cold dawn air, Alonso moved as his life depended on it. Because, in some ways, it did. He couldn't go back to the way things were. To being weak.

To being afraid. And if football was the way out, he would take it.

At school, Javi and his crew stayed out of his way. For now. But Alonso wasn't stupid.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the tension boiled over again. The whispers never really stopped. Neither did the looks.

Still, Alonso walked taller. The bruises faded, but the fire inside him only grew stronger.

Match day arrived with a crisp bite in the air. Alonso barely slept the night before. His stomach twisted with nerves as he slipped into his uniform.

It wasn't much—an old, faded kit the school had handed down for years. But when he pulled the jersey over his head, it felt different. Real.

He had earned this.

The locker room buzzed with a mix of excitement and tension. Boys laughed too loudly, their voices edged with nervous energy.

The smell of sweat and cheap deodorant hung heavy in the air. Alonso sat on the edge of a worn wooden bench, tying his cleats with steady fingers even as his heart raced.

The door swung open, and Coach Herrera strode in. His thick mustache twitched as he surveyed the room, clipboard in hand. The chatter died instantly.

"Alright, listen up," he barked. "Today's not just any match. It's against San Ignacio. They think they can walk all over us. I say we show them otherwise."

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Alonso felt his chest tighten.

"Starting lineup," Coach continued, scanning his list.

"Goalkeeper: Ramires.

Defense: Ortega, Salazar, Mendez and Xavi.

Midfield: Miguel, Torres, Paulo and Guzmán."

That was a 4-4-2 formation.

Alonso barely heard the rest. His pulse thundered in his ears.

"Striker," the coach said, pausing for effect. "Javi."

A slow smirk crept across Javi's face. He leaned back against the lockers like he already knew he'd been chosen.

Alonso swallowed hard, forcing down the sting of disappointment. He had fought so hard. And it still wasn't enough.

"Morales," Coach said, his tone gruff but not unkind. "You're on the bench. Stay sharp. I might need you."

Alonso nodded once, biting back the words burning in his throat. Stay sharp. As if he wasn't already.

The team rose as one, clapping each other on the shoulders as they filed out. Alonso lingered a moment longer, pressing his back against the cold metal lockers, willing his frustration to cool.

Out on the pitch, the roar of the crowd hit him like a physical force. The bleachers groaned under the weight of students from both schools.

Banners waved in the wind, bright streaks of red and blue clashing against San Ignacio's green and white. The smell of grass and chalk filled the air, mingling with the buzz of anticipation.

Both teams arrived on the pitch and prayed, after that they wove the crowd and received loud applause and cheering from them.

The players who were selected remained on the pitch while those who were left went back to the bench. Alonso settled on the bench, his legs bouncing with restless energy.

From here, he had the perfect view of the field—and of Javi, already strutting toward the center circle as he owned it.

"You okay?" Miguel slid onto the bench beside him, his voice low.

"Yeah," Alonso lied. "Just want to play."

Miguel chuckled softly. "I get it. But don't stress. You'll get your chance. The coach isn't blind. He knows you've got talent."

Alonso nodded, but it did little to ease the tightness in his chest.

The referee's whistle pierced the air, and the match began.\

San Ignacio passed the ball to start the match. They were eager to play the match so can't afford to lose the game.

They were possessing the ball very well. Javi and his teammates kept tackling them but in the first five minutes, they were not able to get the ball to their side.

The San Ignacio's forwards swarming like hornets. Javi had the skill to match their aggression, but his arrogance made him sloppy. Twice, he lost the ball trying to show off, earning glares from Coach on the sideline.

His teammates didn't like what Javi was doing. The opponents had a foul around the fifteenth minute. Their striker was the one to take the free kick.

The striker at first had a glance at the goalkeeper who was busily directing his players to stand well so he could have a good vision.

The referee blew the whistle and the striker launched the ball straight to the net. At first, the crowd was silent as the ball passed on top of the defenders and suddenly entered the goalpost and that was a powerful clash from the striker.

''GOOOOAL'', a crowd of the San Ignacio exploded. Alonso's fingers curled into fists as he watched. He knew he could do better. If only they would let him.

The coach was very upset with such performance from his team. The referee blew the whistle and Javi passed the ball to continue the game.

Now the ball was on their side. They possessed the ball very well and they received a massive applause from their crowd.

The midfielders dribbled and laid a through pass to Javi. Javi controlled the ball very nicely and dribbled past two defenders in the eighteen-yard box, unfortunately, a defender from nowhere came with a slide and took the ball from him and the referee blew his whistle.

''That's a penalty'', the referee said. Javi was the captain of the Bilbao Central School so he was the one who was going to take the penalty since he wouldn't love to see another player take it.

Javi placed the ball in the eighteen yard box. The goalkeeper was ready for him. The crowd was silent again, the Bilbao Central school crowd are somehow happy because they thought Javi is going to equalise.

The referee blew the whistle and Javi took a shot but the goalkeeper held the ball in his hand.

''Oh no'', the Bilbao Central School exclaimed. Their coach on the other side felt disgraced and sat on the bench where Alonso was sitting.

The San Ignacio goalkeeper took a goalkick and their winger controlled the ball so much ease. He dribbled past three defenders and what was approaching was huge.

He then made his way through the sixteen-yard box and placed the ball at the first pole. That was a nice goal from the winger.

Midway through the first half, the score was still 2-0. San Ignacio's defense was a wall, and ]Javi wasn't breaking through.

"Come on," Alonso muttered under his breath.

His legs twitched with the urge to run, to move, to do something.