The crowd laughed, but Jason's gaze shifted to Ali, his smirk widening. "Of course, not everyone's cut out for this sport. Some people are better off…watching from the sidelines."
The words weren't directed at Ali by name, but everyone in the gym seemed to pick up on the implication. Zahra glanced at Ali, her smirk fading.
"That little—" Ali started, clenching his fists.
"Don't," Zahra interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He's baiting you. Just let it go."
"Yeah, man," Farid added. "No need to get your gloves in a twist."
Ali's glare remained fixed on Jason, but he didn't move.
After the assembly, the students poured out of the gym, buzzing with excitement. Ali lingered near the exit, stewing in his frustration.
"Stop glaring, Ali," Zahra said as they walked out. "Your face might get stuck that way, and then what? You'll scare off all your fans."
"I don't have fans," Ali muttered.
"Not yet," she corrected. "But if you keep working, maybe one day you'll be the one up there. Just focus on you, okay?"
Farid, ever the mood-lightener, decided to demonstrate Jason's moves. He swung his arms in exaggerated arcs, mimicking the spinning punch. "Look at me, I'm Jason King! Applaud me, peasants!"
He twirled dramatically, only to trip over his own feet and land flat on his back. Zahra burst into laughter, and even Ali couldn't help but crack a small smile.
"You're hopeless," Ali said, offering Farid a hand.
"But I'm hilarious," Farid replied, grinning as he got to his feet.
As the group walked toward the courtyard, Crystall appeared, weaving through the crowd. Ali's stomach did a nervous flip as she approached.
"Ali," she called, her voice soft but steady.
He turned, trying to act casual. "Oh, hey."
She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "You seemed upset earlier. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said quickly, avoiding her gaze.
She frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Don't let Jason get to you. He's good at what he does, but that doesn't mean you can't be, too. Just keep working hard, and you'll get there."
Ali looked up, surprised. "You think so?"
"I know so," she said with a warm smile. "You have more potential than you realize."
Her words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep within him. For a moment, the frustration and insecurity melted away, replaced by a flicker of hope.
"Thanks," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded, giving his arm a light squeeze before walking away. Ali watched her go, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and motivation.
That evening, Ali stood in the park, his breath visible in the chilly air. The gym was closed, but he couldn't bring himself to go home yet. His emotions churned inside him—anger at Jason, embarrassment at the assembly, and a gnawing determination to prove himself.
He squared up, imagining Jason's smirking face in front of him. His fists flew, punching the air with raw energy.
"One day," he muttered between breaths, his strikes growing sharper. "One day, everyone will see what I can do."
The words echoed in the still night, and as Ali's arms grew heavy, he let them drop to his sides. He wasn't there yet—not even close—but he'd taken the first step. And he wouldn't stop until he reached the top.
---
The familiar scent of leather gloves, sweat, and determination filled the air as Ali stepped into the gym. His nerves buzzed like static electricity, a mixture of excitement and dread. Today was the day—his first real sparring session. He glanced at the ring in the center of the room, where two fighters were currently exchanging blows with sharp precision. It looked intimidating, but it also ignited a fire inside him.
"You ready, kid?" Coach Rahman's gruff voice snapped Ali out of his thoughts. The older man stood beside him, arms crossed, his sharp eyes gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Ali said, trying to sound confident.
Coach smirked. "We'll see."
Ali climbed into the ring, his heart pounding against his ribs. His opponent was a gym regular named Malik, a wiry teenager with fast hands and a smirk that screamed confidence.
"Don't worry," Malik said as they bumped gloves. "I'll go easy on you."
Ali forced a smile, though he could feel the sweat forming on his brow. The bell rang, and Malik sprang into action.
The first punch grazed Ali's cheek before he even registered it. Malik's movements were a blur—ducking, weaving, and jabbing with a rhythm that seemed impossible to match. Ali swung wildly in response, his punches clumsy and off-target.
"Keep your guard up!" Coach Rahman barked from the sidelines.
Ali tried, but Malik's speed was overwhelming. A solid jab to his midsection knocked the wind out of him, and he stumbled back, arms flailing.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Zahra and Farid watching. Zahra had her phone out, probably recording, while Farid leaned against the ropes, grimacing with exaggerated sympathy.
"Well, at least he hasn't fallen flat on his face yet," Zahra whispered loudly to Farid, earning a chuckle.
"Don't jinx it," Farid replied, shaking his head.
By the end of the second round, Ali was gasping for air, his muscles screaming in protest. Malik, on the other hand, looked like he'd just finished a light jog.
Coach Rahman stepped in, waving his hands to stop the match. "That's enough," he said firmly.
Ali slumped onto a stool in the corner of the ring, his head hanging low. His gloves felt like dead weight, and his pride was in tatters.
"Not bad for your first time," Malik said with a grin as he climbed out of the ring. "Keep practicing."
Ali barely managed a nod, too tired and frustrated to respond.
Coach Rahman crouched in front of him, his expression softer than usual. "You want to know how my first sparring session went?"
Ali glanced up, surprised. "Worse than this?"
"Oh, much worse," Coach said with a chuckle. "I stepped into the ring thinking I was the next Muhammad Ali. Thought my speed and footwork would carry me through." He shook his head, his smile turning wistful. "Then this guy—big as a truck—knocked me flat on my back within thirty seconds. Didn't even see it coming."
Zahra and Farid wandered closer, listening intently.