Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 10. 2024.
A whistle sounds in the distance causing most of the girls' heads to turn and coach Lisa Dale snaps, "Pay attention ladies! They will be over hear soon. You can look at them all you want then."
Some of them giggle with their shorts pulled up so high, their asses are getting air and their vagina split is painfully visible. It's an awful sight for Alessia whose shirt isn't even tucked in.
They are aging a combined free class today; no lessons yet because it's the first day of P.E. after Summer break. Mrs. Dale had had the girls race around the 400m (metre) track twice and Alessia came out on top. Now, before the guys come over, they're going at it.
During the run in the first lap, they run close, while some of the girls cheer. Mr. Dale drags a net of soccer balls behind him on his way across the field to his wife's group, but he keeps his eyes on the boys to make sure they're running fair and square. Alessia has no doubt that Vincent will come through; white airpads in, a gum in his mouth and his breathing levelled. He's playing with the other guy's, quite relaxed and mumbling the lyrics of whatever he's listening to.
They all know his descent and last name. No one complains nor blames him for his arrogance.
"Alright, break!" Lisa yells as soon as he crosses the finish line and Alessia goes to the side, out of the hot crowd that's fawning over the few shirtless opposite gender.
She pulls an elastic band from her ash white hair, shaking it out in the little breeze that blows. Then, she puts it up again, into a small, messy bun.
"Alessia! Vincent! You're up!" Mr. Dale shouts, peering at his stopwatch.
Vincent is already on the field, boring away to his beats and popping gum, while she's confused, walking over slowly. Everyone is looking at her, the fast new girl, and it doesn't take her long to realize that she and the Guiseppe boy is going to have a one on one, sending her mind far away, back to their unfinished fight.
Soon, she's standing beside him and he pays her no mind. He doesn't even see her.
An ear-piercing blow of the whistle takes air and they're off. Alessia gets into an immediate sprint, wanting not to lose to this egoistical asshat. She pictures his annoying smirk from back then and the gleam in his eyes, which pushes her to go faster. It takes Vincent only 3 long seconds for what he's up against to settle in his stuttering brain. Is he actually going to have to put effort into this now?
He glimpses her bleached hair an narrows his eyes. That's the girl who completely saved his apple from falling... Her feet seem to barely touch the ground as she whizzes away. Strawn by strawn, her bun loosens, and when she peeks at him around a bend, he meets striking blue eyes that, for some reason, triggers him. He breaks into a sprint, forgetting his song, spitting out his gum and pumping his legs.
Alessia notices how he's already inching closer. Damn, he's fast... 'Cause, she feels like she's flying and he's right on her tail. They go around the field once.
The crowd of teenagers are quiet. All she has to do is keep the distance between them all the way, but she can't go any faster and he getting closer. For the first time, her feet get heavy, her chest burns and her arms feel like they're going to fall off. She feels human, never having to run this hard in her life before. Vincent huffs, and he puffs, and he blows into the air, but there are no little piggies in sight...just a white haired girl whom he's charging at.
Who is she? Where's she from? What's her history? Typical Vincent starts to get curious.
By now, he's catching up beside her and she's clenching her jaw, forcing herself to keep her pace if not go faster. Her body is on fire and she's beginning to sweat, while Vincent is already a river of salt since he had to push to catch up.
They cross the finish line. Everyone is quiet. He throws off his shirt and ruffles his hair, panting and she drops herself in the grass, lifting her shirt to her bra line, heaving on her back.
No one knows who has won yet as Mr. and Mrs. Dale fumble with their stopwatch.
Then, the husband announces, "It's a tie!"
"Pathetic." Alessia breathes.