Bapala slammed his locker shut, his textbooks pressed tightly under one arm.
The hallway buzzed with the usual mid-morning chaos — voices echoing, shoes squeaking, lockers clanging. Beside him, Tsebo adjusted his glasses, flipping through a folded paper of tactics like a professor reviewing notes.
"You looked at the strategies I sent you last night?" Tsebo asked.
Bapala hesitated. "Uh… yeah, about that… I was going to, but my data—"
"Excuses," Tsebo interrupted. "Classic Modiri."
A random teammate — whose name Bapala still hadn't bothered to remember — laughed from behind them. "He's got you, bro."
Before Bapala could respond, the mood of the hallway shifted. The sound of synchronized footsteps echoed, and the crowd instinctively parted.
The Shadow Kings were walking in — Treasure in front, the rest behind him like a royal escort. Every eye turned to them.
Treasure smirked as his gaze landed on Tsebo. "Well, well. If it isn't our runaway scholar."
"Morning, Treasure," Tsebo said flatly.
"You dumped the Shadow Kings to hang out with losers who can't even trap a ball?" Treasure's grin widened. Tlapa and Ofenste burst out laughing behind him.
"Bro went from Champions League to Sunday league!" Tlapa howled.
Treasure ignored him and turned back to Tsebo. "Anyway, meet your replacement — Hakuna. Fresh from Polokwane. Played for his school team since grade two. Safe to say, we can do without you."
Tsebo just shrugged. "Wow. Good for you, then."
Treasure clicked his tongue and stepped closer, staring Tsebo down for a moment before turning away.
Arabeile, walking at the back, offered a small, polite wave toward Bapala. He instinctively started to raise his hand — until Tsebo caught his wrist.
"Don't," Tsebo said quietly. "We don't wave at competition."
Bapala sighed. "You're harsh, man."
Before he could say anything else, a muffled voice came from inside his locker.
"Wow, that was tense!"
Bapala jumped. "What the—?"
He opened the locker — and out tumbled Mercy, clutching his laptop like a newborn baby. His hair was a mess, and he grinned proudly like he hadn't just emerged from a metal box.
"Mercy?!" Bapala yelled. "How did you even fit in there?!"
Mercy brushed the dust off his blazer. "I've got my ways. How do you think I gather so much intel?"
Tsebo blinked, unimpressed. "Creepy ways."
---
Lunch break — school courtyard
The three of them sat under a half-broken umbrella table, trays of cafeteria food untouched.
Tsebo unrolled a chart filled with arrows, names, and small stick figures drawn with alarming precision.
"The Six Giants," he began, tapping the paper.
"The strongest 5 v 5 teams in the first-year field. If we're going to make a name for ourselves, these are the ones we have to beat."
Bapala leaned forward. "The same ones that qualify for the Bottomless Pit, right?"
"Exactly," Tsebo said. "Now, first—"
Mercy cut in immediately, typing on his laptop. "Iron Hawks. Led by Zanele Mokoena — code name: Falcon. Strengths: speed. Weakness: pressing. Football rank: A-minus."
Tsebo's eye twitched. "I was going to say that."
Bapala snickered. "He's faster than you, Academic."
"Next," Tsebo continued through gritted teeth, "the Red Comets. Known for deadly finishing. Their—"
"Thabo Nkosi!" Mercy announced proudly. "A.K.A Meteor. Strengths: long-range shots. Weakness: speed. Rank: A."
Bapala started laughing. Tsebo didn't.
"Mercy," Tsebo said slowly, "if you interrupt one more time—"
"Steel Fangs!" Mercy yelled before he could finish. "Anchor player: Sipho Dlamini, A.K.A Iron Jaw. Strengths: vision, pressing, physicality. Weakness: attacking. Rank: A."
Tsebo put his face in his hands. "I can't work under these conditions."
Mercy beamed. "I'm helping."
"Next," Tsebo said through clenched teeth, "the Blazing Tigers. They rely on wing pressure and speed. Their anchor—"
"Lethabo Kgosi A.K.A Whirl," Mercy cut in again, reading from his screen. "Position: left wing forward. Strengths: dribbling, agility, unpredictability. Weakness: long passes, overplays. Rank: A."
Tsebo slammed his hand on the table so hard the ketchup bottle jumped. "MERCY!"
Bapala nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "Let him cook, man!"
"Cook?!" Tsebo snapped. "He's serving spoilers"