The last bell of the term rang through Daniest High like a declaration of independence, its echo carrying the promise of a long, lazy summer. Students poured out of classrooms, clutching their end-of-term exam results, their faces a mix of relief, disappointment, and unadulterated joy. The air, usually thick with the scent of chalk and old books, was now filled with the sweet aroma of freedom. Even the grounds, recently scarred by the football team's brutal loss, seemed to have softened under the gentle glow of the evening sun.
In the SS2A classroom, the mood was light and relaxed. Frank Anyiam, his swagger returned, was laughing loudly, his result sheet clutched in his hand. "See as my chemistry result strong pass my village juju," he joked, flashing a C- grade with a triumphant grin. David Akpama chuckled, leaning back in his chair. The girls were huddled in their own groups, already making plans for the break. Deborah, the volleyball player and Frank's interest, was chatting with Goldamier, the model, about a summer fashion show in Lagos, while Favour, the track athlete, was on her phone, texting her coach about a camp she would be attending. Raphi, a year below, was perched on Miracle's desk, her phone's camera idle for a change. "So, what's the plan?" she asked, her voice brimming with excitement. "Are you guys going to watch the World Cup all day or what?"
Miracle Johnson managed a smile, his own result sheet tucked away in his bag. His mind was elsewhere, on the promises he'd made to Eric about convincing Kelvin. He was tired, but the fire inside him felt stronger than ever. The team had been quiet since Kelvin's brutal announcement; their fear and excitement were a simmering undercurrent beneath the surface of their school lives. They were all still a little stunned by his direct style. "I don't know," Miracle began, but he was interrupted by a familiar voice.
Eric Ekeng walked in, his face serious, a contrast to the carefree atmosphere in the room. He held a memo in his hand. The class quieted down, sensing something was wrong. "It's from the sports department," he said, his voice low. "It's about the team." Frank sat up straight, his smile gone. Godson Edet, the defensive midfielder, stopped his conversation with Hanson Udito and looked at Eric, his brow furrowed in concern.
"The sports department wants us to report to the pitch immediately. They've arranged a summer training camp for the team," Eric read from the memo.
A collective groan went through the class. "A summer training camp? Why?" Joseph asked, his voice filled with disappointment. "We were looking forward to a break."
"The memo says our new coach has a new training regimen for us, and we are expected to report immediately," Eric finished, his eyes fixed on Miracle. They both knew the truth behind this unexpected announcement.
Frank stood up, his voice filled with righteous indignation. "This is ridiculous! We just finished our exams, we need a break!" he protested. He was met with a chorus of complaints from the other players.
The girls, sensing the tension, started to leave the room. As they walked out, they cast worried glances at the boys. Raphi, however, paused, looking at Miracle with a mix of concern and admiration. "You did this, didn't you?" she whispered, a knowing smile on her face. Miracle only shrugged, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
The players, grumbling and complaining, started to pack their things. They all knew this was Kelvin's doing, and they were less than thrilled about it. Miracle, however, felt a surge of excitement. The camp was a step in the right direction. It was a step toward redemption.
The Unseen Hand
The Calabar evening was now a cascade of neon lights and city sounds. Far from the relaxed atmosphere of Daniest High, the glass-and-steel façade of TechNexus Holdings glittered in the urban glow. Inside, a well-dressed security guard stood by a sleek, black sedan, its engine purring softly.
Emmanuel Jones emerged from the building, a sharp contrast to his unassuming school persona. He wore a crisp, tailored suit, and his glasses, usually a fixture of his bookish look, were gone, revealing sharp, calculating eyes. He was followed by two broad-shouldered men in dark suits, their presence a silent testimony to his status. Emmanuel's face, a mask of calm, betrayed nothing. He was on the phone, his voice low and professional.
"The paperwork is done," he said. "The facility is ready to go. The biometrics and performance simulators are calibrated. We'll have real-time data on every player. I expect the first cohort to arrive this weekend."
He reached the sedan, and one of the guards opened the door. He slid inside, the leather seats a familiar comfort. "This is a good investment," he continued, his voice now a little more relaxed. "The ROI will be huge." He paused, listening. "I agree. We'll need a way to get the team to and from the facility safely, considering the location." He then hung up the phone.
The screen of his phone glowed, and a contact name was clearly visible: Abigail Okoye.
He leaned back in his seat, the city lights reflecting in his eyes. The summer break had just begun for everyone else, but for him and the Daniest football team, the real work was just getting started.