700 reads?😍 thankyou!❤️  don't forget to vote, comment(lots and lots of them) and share. PLEASE SHARE.

031| Attacke. Touché. Pointe.

▪︎third person pov▪︎

The National Asian Games, Seoul, Korea.

A surge of excitement and nervousness rushed through her. Like a flow of emotions, she felt anxious and happy at the same time. She rolled her arms, stretched it, her legs and her body. The building was full of people, staff and non-staff. Banners were held high in the air in different colors rooting for her and her opponent.

It seemed surreal to her.

From participating in basic games in CH to basic competitions like the Fencing Tournament, Italian Sports, Escrime Games, National African Games to finally participating in The National Asian Games.

Today was the day of competition. She'd been playing for a long time and now she had advanced to the finals. After beating a Russian in the semi-final, she was now going to face a main competitor.

Her opponent was a white, a Korean to be specific. She was going up against someone with different color, different race and different historical background.

And not to forget, different tactics.

She did feel nervous, in fact, she felt like just one mistake could fuck this up. She warmed up for the last time, as her Coach massaged her and filled her heart with words of encouragement.

But she still hadn't heard from someone.

That particular person. The golden boy.

It was very strange and unbelievable to get so attached to someone you've only known for a few days. That's what happened to her.

There was a way he looked at her, like she was art. Pure art. Like she deserved to be a kept in a museum and she wasn't just that Muslim fencer that went through too many difficulties and controversies because of her religion.

And when they held hands, it was raw art. Raw beauty. It was perfect; how her hands fit into his and how they'd both subconsciously tighten their hold around each other.

She was getting obsessed. An unhealthy kind. But she didn't care. Just like how she shamelessly waited for a message from him, even though she wasn't sure if he would send any at all.

And then it came in, right beside her there on the table meant for Coach, decorated with water bottles and papers in unaligned positions.

Before the Coach could say anything, she reached for and grabbed the phone, unlocking with a godspeed that amazed her but didn't bother to dwell on it.

It was what she expected, but not what she expected. It was indeed a good luck message, but not from who she wanted.

It wasn't from the golden boy.

Disappointed, she dropped her phone and on cue, the referee came into view.

It was time for the competition to start. She walked towards her opponent and tapped her sword with hers.

"En garde," the referee called, hands in gesture to support his statement. She took position and so did her opponent. Her bones were crippling with anxiety. The excitement was hardly there, it was filled with strong determination now.

"Prêtes?" She tightened her grip on her sword.

"Allez."

The game begun.

~H A N N I E L~

"The Jacqueline Hennessey Conference is this month!" Yusrah screamed in front of the class. But before she could anything else, Tiami came forward from the corridor and dragged her away from the front of the classroom.

"Senior Zara and Senior Amyra are coming," Tiami hissed and exactly what happened the day Principal Matthews came to this class reoccurred. I wondered who they feared. Both seniors or just the Head girl.

"Serious?! Amyra is coming here?" Hassan asked, mouth hanging wide open in shock. I almost chuckled to myself. I forgot how obsessed he was with the Muslim model.

As Tiami was about to answer, the two female seniors made their appearance and I was really surprised as to how people screamed because of them.

Excited, not so silent and not so subtle whispers and murmurs could be heard. Fingers were shamelessly pointed mostly at the Muslim model. I looked at the Head girl who had a cold look in her eyes. She wasn't different from what people described.

It was obvious. The cold, unwelcoming aura she exuded and that icy glare in her eyes that sent daggers through the air. But damn, her facial features were wonderful. Not as great as the Muslim model who was too perfect though.

"See skin!" Someone commented.

"God, I love her height!"

"Senior Zara is so pretty, what the hell?"

"Amyra is here! I can't believe it!"

"Gosh!"

"SS2!"

Everyone flinched at the intensity of the Head girl's anger. Literally, everyone kept quiet. No one pointed fingers or said anything. Everyone sat straight and sulked.

"Stand up." She commanded and the amount of people that shot up from their seats instantly confirmed how feared she was. "I am coming from the Arts department and the Business department and I keep getting this same, barbaric reaction every time! Haven't you seen a celebrity before?!" She yelled, eyes blazing and burning in fury.

"Just leave them, Z." Amyra pleaded, trying to persuade the Head girl. Judging by the tone of her voice, I guess she had no leverage over her. Her voice was cautious, and she said each words so gently like any mistake could either make or break Senior Zara's next reaction.

"It's not Z, it's Zara."

Hassan sat straighter as he watched the Head girl savage a whole celebrity like it was simple ABC.

Amyra smiled to herself and looked away, probably deciding to herself that picking a fight was not the best decision. She was after all, a celebrity.

"Everyone to the field. Training starts from today, you know where to go with the aid of whatever sport you are majoring in."

And with that, the Head girl left the class, Amyra following after her with an impassive expression on her face. But not before Hassan shouted her name like a fanatic.

She paused in her steps and her brows pulled together in question at Hassan. It felt like time came to a standstill. Hassan decided to make a fool of himself by standing up and declaring his obsession for her:

"I'm obsessed with you, Amyra."

"Hei!" Someone shouted and an exaggerated gasp followed.

Amyra smirked and folded her arms at Hassan. We patiently waited for her reply. Which came in what felt like an eternity.

"Obsession is unhealthy." She finally said, unknowingly carrying Hassan's heart and stomping on it. "But guess what? I'm obsessed with you too."

"We all do unhealthy things!" Someone affirmed and the class erupted into a loud noise. Guys stood up from their seats and began praising Hassan, beating his chest and back while he received everything like Jesus on the cross. Seriously, his arms were spread open. He was the man of the moment.

The excitement and joy was short-lived as the Head girl came back, "In 5. 4. 3,"

Everyone started running out.

"2. 1!"

I had left class by then too. I love myself.

~T N A G~

"Attacke,"

"Touché,"

"Pointe."

She screamed out in victory, removing her mask in the blink of an eye and flinging her arms in the air. Sweat soaked her hair but she felt refreshed by it. The crowd erupted into a standing ovation and she kept on releasing shouts of victory.

"YES! COACH!" She screamed.

"Ameenah Ahmed wins the National Asian Games! She will now be advancing to the Olympics at the age of 16! Winning a gold medal at the National Asian Games at the age of 16 is no piece of cake!" The sportscaster announced into the microphone. "Ameenah Ahmed becomes the first Nigerian to win a gold medal in fencing!"

"Congratulations Ameenah!"

She fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands, tears soaking her cheeks as she screamed one more time, "YES!"

~H A N N I E L~

We sat on the bleachers. The weather was sunny, bright in a beautiful yet harsh way. Harsh because people were training under the sun in the arvo and most dripped sweat. Next to me, Komisola sat down and just stared at everyone on the field. Minutes ago, I had asked her what her major was in sports and she curtly replied, "track."

"Komisola Adedire! Ameenah Ahmed! Dabirah Oluwa! Yusrah Zaria! Peace Etim! Maliya Abdul!" The Head girl called out a few feet away from us, not looking up from her clipboard as she called out to the field. "Come here."

Dabirah was on the field already, further away from the Head girl while Komisola went to meet her.

"It's time for the basketball tryouts!" A brown skin colored guy announced, he looked like the Head boy. He probably was. I didn't really recognize people in CH but the amount of people that recognized me...

"Okay, we only have a few names here to fill in some positions in the team. So here we go;" Senior Solomon continued for the Head boy, standing next to him. "Tiamiyu Adewole! Ibrahim Abdelnour! Hanniel Alonge..."

I tuned out the rest of the names because this is the part where I clarify I am as straight as a ruler.

A guy walked down from the bleachers, wearing our school customized sweatshirt on his uniform, his hair on low cut. He was probably 5 feet 6-8 inches tall. His complexion was a shade of honey brown, and his face had this confident smile on, told everything about him including his soothing aura.

And his looks...?

1000 on a scale of 100.

"Bro," he glanced at me and I stared at him. "You're checking me out." He stated, shrugging lazily at me.

"Ch-checking you out? No!" I exclaimed, waving my hands frantically in the air to support my claim. "I'm not LGBT if that's what you're thinking."

"I was kidding. You're Hanniel, right? I've heard of you." He said, still smiling. "I'm Ibrahim, nice to meet you."

I guess I just gained myself a friend.

"Ibrahim! Over here!" Hassan shouted, shooting me a glare at the same time. I rolled my eyes inwardly. I'd forgotten all about him. Malice wasn't my thing. It was way too childish.

"My guy, I'm coming. You're in SS2 Science, right? I'm in Arts." Ibrahim said to me again, properly introducing himself.

As soon as I stood up, the first thing that came into my mind, bulldozing my head like a truckload.

I can't believe I almost forgot it.

Today was the day of Ameenah's competition.

~
arvo: afternoon
and who's obsessed w fencing cause I am. not that I acc know how to fence. but... whatever. i'm a simp for sports like badminton, fencing and basketball.😍 anyway...
vote. share. comment.

word count: 1789 words
byeeeee :)❤️