Finding a way back to her!

The shrill sound of the bell echoed across the school grounds, marking the start of the sports period. Freen Sarocha felt a familiar pang of dread as she stood in the doorway of the gymnasium. This was it—the moment she disliked most. Sports weren’t just physical; they were social, and Freen did everything in her power to avoid social situations.

As she shuffled inside, Freen scanned the room, hoping to stay under the radar. That hope was dashed as Ms. Narumon, her sports teacher—and unfortunately her family friend—called out cheerfully, “Freen! Come here! Everyone, meet our new student!”

Freen froze mid-step. Of course, the F-word—family friend—had struck again. She gritted her teeth, plastered a polite smile on her face, and trudged reluctantly to where Ms. Narumon stood.

“She’s family to me,” Ms. Narumon declared proudly to the students. “So make her feel welcome, alright?”

Freen’s stomach churned at the unwanted spotlight. She barely noticed a few murmurs and chuckles from her classmates, including a smirk from a girl with striking charisma: Becky Armstrong. Becky sat cross-legged near the front, her interest piqued by the awkward newcomer.

“Now, Freen,” Ms. Narumon continued, her whistle bouncing off her chest, “why don’t you lead the warm-up drills? It'll be fun!”

Freen wanted to teleport herself out of existence. “I—I’m not really a warm-up person,” she stammered.

“Nonsense! You’ll be great!” Ms. Narumon beamed. Before Freen could protest further, she found herself standing in front of the class, awkwardly mimicking stretches as Ms. Narumon barked instructions. Her movements were stiff, her discomfort obvious.

The crowd was entertained. Quiet laughs and muffled whispers circled the room. Becky, biting her lip to suppress a chuckle, found herself drawn to Freen’s quirky demeanor.

When the ordeal finally ended, Freen retreated to the edge of the field, thankful to be out of the spotlight. That’s when Becky made her move.

Sliding next to Freen, Becky grinned playfully. “So... warm-ups. Your hidden talent?”

Freen turned her head toward Becky, eyes wide with surprise. “Um... no,” she replied awkwardly, clearly not expecting the conversation.

“Oh? Then what’s your thing?” Becky asked, resting her chin on her palm, her expression brimming with amusement.

Freen hesitated. Her mind searched for an answer—anything that wouldn’t make her look foolish. “Uh... reading,” she said, finally settling on the safest option.

“Reading?” Becky repeated with curiosity. “Like novels? Or textbooks?”

“Both,” Freen replied curtly. She felt her palms grow sweaty. Talking to Becky wasn’t something she had planned on.

Becky tilted her head, smiling. “Okay, so you’re more into mental marathons than physical sprints?”

Freen blinked at the comment, unsure if it was meant to be witty or sarcastic. “I—I guess...” she managed, though her tone sounded more like a question than a statement.

Becky chuckled, finding Freen’s awkwardness endearing. “You know, you’re kind of funny,” she teased.

Freen’s brows knitted in confusion. “Funny?” she repeated, as if the word didn’t belong to her.

“Yeah. Like, unintentionally funny,” Becky clarified, leaning back casually.

Freen pursed her lips, unsure whether Becky was mocking her or just being friendly. “Thanks... I think?”

Becky’s laughter rang out, light and warm. “You’re welcome.” For some reason, Becky’s easygoing nature didn’t feel invasive or overwhelming—it felt... refreshing.

Ms. Narumon interrupted their moment, marching toward Freen with her trademark enthusiasm. “Great job today, Freen! Next week, you’ll join the relay race, okay? We need your brain and your legs!”

Freen’s eyes widened in alarm. “Relay race? Wait—I’m not really... um... a racing person.”

“Nonsense! With a little practice, you’ll be unstoppable!” Ms. Narumon said with confidence before striding off.

Freen groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Unstoppable? Does she think I’m an engine?”

Becky laughed again, enjoying Freen’s mix of awkwardness and dry humor. “Hey, look on the bright side—you’ve got fans now.”

Freen peeked at Becky through her fingers, surprised at how much she had spoken. “Fans? More like people waiting to see me crash.”

“True,” Becky admitted with a playful smirk. “But crashing can be fun to watch.”

Freen sighed deeply. “You’re really not helping.”

Becky shrugged with mock innocence. “I’m just saying—it’s better to enjoy the chaos. You might surprise yourself.”

As Freen sat in silence, she realized something odd. She had never spoken this much to someone before—especially someone she barely knew. Becky’s teasing remarks didn’t feel hostile; they felt... oddly comforting. For the first time, Freen felt the tiniest hint of warmth in her guarded world.