BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The alarm screamed at exactly 5:00 AM.
Lucas Moreau didn't move.
Outside, rain slashed against his window like knives—a far cry from yesterday's sunny park visit.
Irony's a bitch, he thought, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. After forty years of living and dying on pitches… why does today feel like my first war?
His phone buzzed.
Victor:
Girls are already here. They're pacing. Even Aria.
Lucas closed his eyes. His old-man instincts battled this new young body's adrenaline. What if I fail them? What if—
BANG!
His door flew open.
Marie:
"UP! Or I'll drag you to that stadium myself!"
He smiled. Some things never changed.
Lucas:
"Yes, Mom. Or should I say… Hitler?"
Marie (sassy stare):
"What did you just say, you idiot?"
Lucas grabbed his toothbrush and soap and dashed to the bathroom.
Marie (muttering):
"Ufff… when did this kid change so much?"
But deep inside, she smiled.
He's maturing… I just hope he finds happiness. That's all that matters now.
Moments Later – In Front of the Mirror
Wearing his black coat from 10th-grade farewell, Lucas looked at his reflection.
Lucas (grinning):
"Damn, I look good. Not gonna lie. But… still too young to be called a manager."
Marie (from the kitchen):
"Honey! Breakfast's ready! Come fast!"
Lucas:
"Coming, Mom!"
As he stepped downstairs, both Marie and Philip stared at him, eyes wide open.
Lucas:
"What? Is something wrong with my outfit?"
Marie (facepalming with a smile):
"Honey, you look so confident and handsome. If I hadn't fallen for your dad, I might've fallen for my son!"
Lucas (blushing):
"Mooom! Stop! I'm starving—let's just eat!"
Marie (laughing):
"Haha, alright, alright."
A Few Minutes Later
Marie brought out the food.
Marie:
"Look what I made—your favorite!"
Momos. Hot soup. Fried potatoes. Dal. Steamed rice. And a perfectly half-fried egg on top.
Lucas (starry-eyed):
"OMG! Thank you, Mom! You just made my day—I'm definitely winning this match now!"
Marie:
"I know, honey."
Philip (clearing his throat):
"Son… I can see how much football means to you. You're more driven than ever before. But remember—you don't need to prove anything to anyone. You're young. This is your time to live, make mistakes, learn, and enjoy life. We'll always be here for you."
Lucas (smiling softly):
"Thanks, Dad. That means a lot. But right now… football is the fun part. It's like… I'm addicted to it."
Philip (chuckling):
"Haha! Then I have nothing to worry about. Good luck, son."
Lucas:
"Thanks, Dad. You're the best."
They shared a warm, happy breakfast—filled with laughter and excitement.
Game Time: 1 Hour Left
Lucas stepped outside—and immediately winced.
Lucas:
"Awww… it's raining! I can't take my bike like this… Guess it's bus time."
Game Time: 55 Minutes Left – On the Bus
Lucas found a seat just in time. But then… silence.
Then murmurs. Then eyes.
Everyone (whispering):
"That's him! That's the kid who challenged Graymoor High!"
"Wait, seriously? That's the coach? LOL!"
"He's just a kid! Are they joking at Queen High?"
Lucas (thinking calmly):
I knew this would happen. Even I'd laugh if I were them… But I don't care. Let them talk. When this game's over, I'll earn this town's respect.
The bus reached his stop. He stepped off, unshaken.
Game Time: 30 Minutes Left – Outside Graymoor High School
Lucas stood at the gate, rain dripping down his coat.
Lucas (clenching his fists):
"This is it. My first real match. Let's make it count."
Game Time: 20 Minutes Left – Queen High Locker Room
He arrived. All the girls were there. Nervous. Silent.
Team:
"Good morning, Coach."
Lucas:
"Morning, girls."
Game Time: 15 Minutes Left – Warm-Up Begins
They jogged out onto the wet turf. Drills. Passing. Light movement. Just enough to keep the nerves from settling.
Game Time: 5 Minutes Left – Inside the Locker Room
Lucas stood before them—fire in his eyes. The storm outside couldn't match the one brewing inside this locker room.
Lucas's Final Speech
"Listen up. All of you.
Look around this room.
See the sweat on your sleeves? The dirt on your boots? The fire in your eyes?
That's not fatigue. That's proof.
Proof that for 20 days—you bled for this moment.
They call us 'just girls.'
They say we don't belong on that pitch.
They laughed when I bet everything on you.
Let them.
Because they don't see what I see.
They don't see Nadia—our general—who'd rip her heart out to shield this team.
They don't see Zara—our wall—who'd break bones before breaking formation.
They don't see Aria—our ghost—who plays for a sister watching from the stars.
They see weakness?
Show them war.
Out there—every tackle is a promise.
Every pass is trust.
Every shot is a scream to the world: We refuse to be ignored!
This isn't just football.
This is a revolution in cleats.
That pitch? It's ours.
That fear? Burn it.
That doubt? Feed it to the crows.
Play like lions.
Fight like queens.
And when that final whistle blows?
Make sure they remember your names—not because you won, but because you made the ground shake when you walked.
Now…
Hands in.
TEAM ON THREE.
ONE… TWO… THREE—
"QUEENS!!"
End of chapter 13