Irene Max waited in the hospital waiting department, her face etched with worry. "Fudge cakes," she muttered, her hand slamming against her forehead. "I hope Mum is okay. I'm so worried. Jeez, Irene, you need to chill," she chided herself, shifting her attention to Julian. "And you need to focus on your brother right now; he's in a sorry state." Gazing at Julian, Irene observed the colour draining from his face. "J-Julian, are you okay? I know how you feel."
Her brother's teary eyes and puffy eyelids stirred a protective instinct in Irene. She pulled him into a tight hug, softly kissing his head—a gesture she rarely made. Whispering in his ear, she said, "I'm sure Mum wouldn't want to see you like this. Look, everything is going to be fine. She just has something wrong with her. Don't worry, okay? Just be calm."
In a cracked voice, her brother replied, "I just want Mum to be okay... Thanks, Irene. I believe Mum will get better. She's no ordinary Exylian; she's the strongest one I know..."
**~•~**
The knowledge that her mother would remain in the hospital for a few weeks filled Irene with deep fear, yet she forced herself to contain those overwhelming emotions.
The following day, Julian and Irene walked to school, a cloud of misery hanging over them. "Hi Julian and Irene, what's up? You guys look pretty upset. Come on, spill!" Akilia, a boisterous figure from 9A, called out at the school gate, dressed in a tight uniform and an extremely short skirt.
"Look, Akilia... There's nothing to spill. We're just not in the mood," Irene responded, moving away from Akilia's exaggerated fluttering eyelashes and dismissing eye roll.
"Whatevs!" Akilia sauntered off, followed by her loyal group of friends.
Upon entering the classroom and sitting next to Julian, Irene's attention was immediately drawn to roll call. Mrs. Dilica's voice filled the room. "Lila."
Lila: ... Um here.
Mrs. Dilica: "Akilia."
Akilia: " .....um yaa I'm heree."
Teacher (rolling eyes): "...Julian
.....
Julian... hello, answer if you're here."
Mrs. Dilica: "JULIAN MAX, ANSWER OR detention!"
Julian: "...h.e.r.e.."
The teacher shot Julian a stern look before addressing Irene. "Irene?"
Irene: "... Here
....."
Mrs. Dilica continued, "Okay, guys, today we're doing something different. You'll be switching lessons with the boys."
The girls' reactions were mixed, while the boys greeted the change with enthusiasm. Although this momentary distraction lifted Irene's spirits, the gravity of her mother's situation quickly resurfaced, overshadowing any semblance of joy.
As the jocks and blue-haired boys flirted, blowing kisses at the girls, Irene's gaze locked onto Julian. Beneath his attempt to appear cheerful and engage in humour, she sensed a deeper layer of emotions. She knew he felt a profound connection to their mother, making this situation especially difficult for him.
Exiting the classroom, the fresh burst of cold, crisp air brushed against their cheeks, transitioning into a gentle, warm breeze. The Karalayeë girls stood confidently, their tank tops and netted tights highlighting their fierce appearance. Irene stood next to her friend Malkaya Dreams, whose vivid turquoise hair concealed a birthmark on her neck—a mark of individuality seen in everyone at the school.
Malkaya's nudge redirected Irene's attention from a colossal window. Through it, Irene spotted minuscule, differently coloured figures. She averted her gaze, knowing that facing the teacher's bitter stare would be like enduring a knife's cut as she tried to regain composure.
**~•~**
Mrs. Dilica's voice cut through the silence, laced with disapproval. "Well, well, well, isn't it Irene Max, not listening again? Well, because of you, we'll start with mud ball."
A collective groan emerged from the girls, expressing their discontent. Irene's cheeks flushed as she murmured, "S-sorry."
Mrs. Dilica continued, "Anyway, welcome to the mud pit." Every head in the room turned toward Irene, icy stares seeming to pierce her. Feeling the chill of their scrutiny, Irene sought refuge behind Malkaya, who appeared slightly agitated but concealed it well. Ignoring the frosty glances, Irene offered her apology.
Malkaya's voice broke the tension. "Girl, what have you gotten yourself into now? Thanks to you, we're all going to get messy. You're the only tomboy here who enjoys this kind of thing. But come on, why..."
"I'm sorry for that... but I'm not a tomboy, though. Just because I wear pants and holasses – glasses – and like boyish stuff," Irene explained, aiming to clear up any misconceptions.
Malkaya appraised Irene's attire, then glanced at the other girls clad in stylish shorts and shirts. Irene's baggy sweatpants and messy purple bun stood out. Malkaya couldn't help but express her thoughts, "Um, sure. I mean, everyone is wearing nice shorts and pretty shirts, and you're wearing... um, some baggy trousers and a rumpled Rock and Air roll shirt... Girl, you need a makeover. But there's no need for that since we're going to play in the mud. So fun! Ugh, isn't it..."
As Irene clung to Malkaya, seeking forgiveness, she employed her most adorable expression and voice. "I said I'm sorry. Forgive me, Kaya, please."
Malkaya's resolve wavered as she smiled, "Oh, don't give me that. Fine, I forgive you. Just don't space out again."
"Yes, Ma'am," Irene agreed with gratitude.
Arriving at the mud-covered field, Irene couldn't help but notice the vibrant expanse before them. The ball occupied the centre, and the pungent scent of mud permeated the air.
As the girls held their noses at the pungent smell of mud, the ginger group of girls had faces so pale it was as white as snow. Irene secretly wished to see one of them fall in the mud, as they were annoying and it would be hilarious.
With rules laid out, Irene learned that the objective was to avoid slipping and falling into the mud. Solid paths was making it easier, but some weren't connected, and some were thick and some thin. Therefore, jumping was essential for this.
Additionally, the goal was to score five balls in different areas of the mud ball foal net located in all four corners of the muddy field. The teams were assigned, and Irene's team went first.
Standing amidst her team of 23, Irene surveyed the fierce Karalayeë gang on the opposing side. Their fiery, dragon-like eyes seemed to pierce through her. With determination, she locked eyes defiantly.
Mrs. Dilica announced, "...ready...
.....get... Set
.....
...GOOOO!!!!"
Seconds before Mrs. Dilica's command, Irene Max was already in motion, sprinting and deftly evading the mud by leaping between stable platforms. As she approached the center, her hand stretched out toward the ball, mere centimeters from her grasp.
Abruptly, her anticipation was dashed as her opponent swooped in and seized the ball—a figure characterized by shifting hair colors from green to black, lips tinted in dark red, and an arrogant smirk adorning her face.
With methodical precision, Irene advanced, leaping from step to step with heightened speed, and initiated a tackle against her adversary. In an accidental twist, her opponent lost balance and toppled into the mud, struggling to regain her footing.
Observing the scene, Irene watched Malkaya and the others, pushing the opponents into the mud.
"5 girls down, good, yet many more to go. Guys keep going!" Reassuring her teammates.
Directing her attention to the scoreboard, Irene registered that out of the initial 23 teammates, only 14 remained. She cast a pitying gaze toward her mud-soaked teammates, including a ginger-haired girl laboring to navigate the course. Despite this, a glimmer of optimism remained for her surviving teammates.
By a stroke of luck, Irene and Malkaya found themselves on the same team, "You know what I'm thinking Kay," Irene murmured quietly towards Malkaya as she responded, "Yes the exact same thought," sharing a nod of understanding.
Setting her sights on the fourth ball, she couldn't ignore the fierce determination radiating from a formidable Karalayeë member who had her eyes fixed on the same prize.
In unison, Irene and Malkaya embarked on a swift sprint, their movements coordinated and strategic. Malkaya effectively blocked the path of the enemy, allowing Irene to seize the ball.
However, the enemy retaliated against Malkaya, pulling her shirt and causing her to lose balance, her form sinking into the mud. Irene's heart ached in sympathy for her friend as she pressed on, leaping from step to step, drawing closer to her target.
Suddenly, the opponent grabbed the ball and dashed away. Just before her escape, she seized Irene's knotted hair, a surge of pain radiating from her scalp. Helpless against the force, Irene succumbed to the inevitable, crashing into the mud.
Yet, the anticipated collision with the mud didn't happen as expected. Instead of sinking, she felt as if she were suspended, shielded by an inexplicable force. This phenomenon bewildered her even as she rebounded in mid-air, averting suspicion.
With resolve, Irene retaliated, causing her opponent to tumble face-first into the mud. The opponent's expression reflected confusion and irritation, mirroring her own perplexity. Amidst this turn of events, Irene grappled with a question:
"How was I able to do something that was not even possible, and how did I do it?"