It began with a whistle and ended with a disaster.
"Alright, lovebirds! And non-lovebirds!" Coach Tonton announced, one foot up on the tennis bench like a proud pirate addressing his crew. "Time to shake the dust off your rackets! We're doing a mock match today—because I feel like it."
Somewhere, a bird squawked in protest.
The Gubat Coastal High tennis team had just finished warm-ups when Coach Tonton clapped his hands and tossed a chalkboard marker in the air. "Match setup! Listen carefully!"
He dramatically pointed his racket like a scepter. "Single A versus Single B. Doubles versus Mixed Doubles. First to one set. Seven games. Standard scoring—fifteen-love, thirty-love, etc. You mess up the count, you owe me one egg pie."
"Wait, do we even have egg pie?" one of the fourth-years asked.
"Not yet," Coach grinned. "But manifest it!"
The team broke into light chatter and fake groans. It was chaos, as usual. But that was what they loved about it.
Jomar leaned toward Mira as they were assigned their spot on the mixed doubles side. "Is he always like this?"
Mira tilted her head. "Who? Coach?"
"Yeah."
She nodded solemnly. "Always."
Single A and B played first. Everyone watched from the benches or from behind the fence, hooting and cheering. It wasn't even close—Single B demolished Single A with a flawless streak of serves and cross-court winners.
"Somebody call the ambulance!" Coach Tonton yelled. "There's been a murder!"
Jomar clapped politely, slightly terrified.
"Mixed doubles versus doubles, you're up!" Coach called out. "Go go go!"
Mira stretched her arms overhead, calm as always. "Don't worry. Just have fun."
Jomar grinned nervously. "I'm about to embarrass myself, aren't I?"
She giggled. "Only a little."
They took their positions on the court. On the other side stood Harold and Faye, two of the fourth-year doubles specialists. They were good—probably the second-best pair on the team after the twins.
Harold spun his racket before calling out, "We'll serve first!"
Jomar stepped to the baseline to receive, bouncing slightly on his heels. Mira crouched behind him near the service line, fingers curled around the net.
"Fighting!" she said in a squeaky, exaggerated Korean drama voice, complete with two raised fists.
Jomar nearly dropped his racket.
She blinked at him innocently. "What?"
"You can't just do that. That was… illegal levels of cute," he muttered.
"Focus," she said sweetly.
Harold tossed the ball up and swung.
Thwack!
Jomar's eyes went wide. He stepped in, swung—
BOOM.
The ball shot off like a comet—not into Harold's court, not even within the fence—but directly into the volleyball court next door.
A loud thud was followed by a scream.
"OW! WHO HIT ME?!"
Heads turned. On the volleyball court, one of the twins from the girls' team was on the floor holding her head. Her sister was already screaming murder.
"Oh no," Mira whispered.
"Oh no," Jomar echoed.
From the volleyball side, Coach Leia, all six feet of volleyball fury in a visor and shades, stormed onto the tennis court like a general marching into enemy territory.
"TONTON!" she roared.
Coach Tonton blinked. "Leia!"
"You trying to kill my kids now?! One of your goblins just beaned Rina with a tennis ball!"
Coach Tonton gasped. "I will have you know that goblin is my protégé! And that was clearly an accident!"
"Then teach him how to aim!"
"I AM! IT'S A PROCESS!"
The tennis team collectively pretended to tie their shoelaces while avoiding eye contact.
Coach Leia pointed at Jomar. "You! Apologize!"
"I'm so sorry!" Jomar bowed deeply.
Rina, holding an ice pack now, gave a thumbs-up from the volleyball bench. "It's okay! I have a hard head!"
"SEE?" Coach Tonton declared. "Volleyball girls are built tough."
Coach Leia groaned and stomped back to her court, mumbling something about "sports boys and their chaos."
The match continued.
"Let's pretend that didn't happen," Mira whispered as they reset.
"I'm trying," Jomar replied, face still red.
This time, he received the ball properly, not perfectly—but it at least landed in the correct zip code. Mira followed up with a clean return, a short volley rally ensued, and somehow, miraculously, they won the point.
"Fifteen-love," she said, smiling.
"Fifteen-love," Jomar repeated, suddenly less afraid.
The game carried on with laughter, teasing from the bench, and commentary from Coach Tonton that included phrases like "I smell chemistry!" and "Get married already!"
Mira and Jomar lost the set in the end—Harold and Faye were too experienced—but they took three games, and for a first real match, it felt like a win.
After the match, Jomar collapsed on the bench and sighed. "I didn't expect to commit violence today."
"You only committed friendly fire," Mira teased, handing him a sports drink.
"You're not going to do that 'fighting!' thing again, are you?"
Mira smiled mischievously. "No promises."