Smash to the Heart

Margo’s POV

The gymnasium buzzed with energy.

It was still early—barely 7:00 AM—but the place was already alive. 

Athletes from different schools were scattered across the bleachers, dressed in their respective uniforms. 

North Hills wore red and gold. 

Southbridge in deep navy and silver. Westbrook had a vibrant green palette, while Riverdale stood out in gray and maroon. 

Crestview, Silverdale, Greenfield— everyone looked sharp, alert, and ready.

I sat with Syra, Miv, and Caia on the upper right bleachers reserved for North Hills. 

My lucky bracelet rested snug on my wrist, just below the edge of my tennis sleeve. 

I rubbed it gently with my thumb.

“Pang-ilan kaya ang match natin?” Caia whispered, eyes scanning the huge screen at the front of the gym where a slideshow of sports matchups was being projected.

“Basta wag muna tayong sabay-sabay,” Syra muttered. “Gusto ko pa manood ng games niyo.”

“Same,” I nodded.

The speakers crackled, catching everyone’s attention as the opening ceremony began.

A faculty member from Southbridge stepped up to the podium in the middle of the gym stage. 

Behind him stood the PE heads from each participating school.

“Good morning, athletes,” he began. “Welcome to this year’s Inter-Division Athletic Meet, hosted by Southbridge Academy. We’re proud to welcome all seven schools competing this season…”

The cheers echoed through the gym.

I glanced across the sea of uniforms and saw the Southbridge girls seated opposite us. 

One of them—the girl from yesterday— was seated at the edge of their row, her arms folded, a composed look on her face.

Our eyes met.

She didn’t flinch.

I turned away.

“…as a reminder, respect, integrity, and sportsmanship remain the core of this tournament,” the announcer continued. 

“We may come from different schools, but this week, we represent excellence and fair competition.”

After the short speech came the national anthem, a quick ceremonial torch lighting, and then a list of guidelines for the games. 

They also highlighted the school areas, infirmary protocols, food tents, and athlete lounges — basically the full rundown of the next three days.

Then came the part we were all waiting for:

The match schedules.

The big screen shifted to a projected table labeled:

Day 1: Tennis Match-Ups (Eliminations Round)

I leaned forward instinctively.

Court A – Girls' Singles
Match 1: Crestview vs. Riverdale
Match 2: North Hills vs. Silverdale
Match 3: Southbridge vs. Westbrook
Match 4: Greenfield vs. Riverdale (Match 1 Winner)

Court B – Girls' Doubles
Match 1: Westbrook vs. Greenfield
Match 2: Southbridge vs. Silverdale
Match 3: Crestview vs. North Hills

“There, Margo,” Coach Leo appeared beside us. “Court A. Second match.”

“Silverdale?” I confirmed.

He nodded. “Yep. You’re up after Crestview and Riverdale finish their singles match.”

I nodded back, nerves finally kicking in. “Noted, coach.”

Syra patted my arm. “Kaya mo yan. Focus lang.”

“Anong uniform ng Silverdale?” Miv asked.

“White with silver trims,” Caia pointed across the gym. “Yung may braided ponytail, oh. Mukhang malakas.”

Coach Leo smiled. “Don’t worry about her. Just play your game, Margo.”

An Hour Later – Court A

The bleachers around the tennis courts were filled with athletes waiting for their turn or cheering for their schoolmates. 

I took slow, deep breaths as I stood near the edge of the court, watching the first match wrap up.

“Final score: 6-4, 6-2. Crestview wins!” the referee called.

A polite round of applause.

I stepped forward, gripping my racket tightly.

From the opposite end of the court, my opponent stepped in—the girl from Silverdale. 

Tall, light on her feet, and clearly experienced. 

Her strokes during warm-up were crisp, clean, no wasted movement.

I rolled my shoulders and shook out the tension in my wrists.

Then I walked to the baseline.

Game Start

“First set. Silverdale to serve.”

I crouched slightly, bouncing on the balls of my feet. 

Her first serve came fast and sharp—but a little too wide. Fault.

She adjusted, tossed the ball again.

_________________________________________
(You are allowed two tries to make a legal serve.

First serve: If you miss, you get a second serve.
Second serve: If you miss again (double fault), the point goes to your opponent.)
__________________________________________

The second serve hit clean — I returned with a backhand, low and deep into her corner. She scrambled, barely made contact, and the ball clipped the net.

“Fifteen – Love.”

_________________________________________

Here’s a quick score breakdown:

0 = Love
1 point = 15
2 points = 30
3 points = 40
4 points = Game (if leading by two)

___________________________________________

I inhaled sharply. Good start.

She recovered quickly though.

Her second and third serves were stronger, forcing me into long rallies.

She played aggressively, sending me chasing forehands and drop shots across the court.

We were neck and neck.

5-5.

(This is a deuce and to win, you have to gain 2 points continuously or lead by 2 points.)

She served again. I anticipated the spin this time, slammed a forehand down the line — clean winner.

6-5.

Coach Leo’s voice from the bench: “One more, Margo! Close it!”

She served again. I received it deep, forcing her back, then rushed to the net. She tried a lob—I jumped, reached—smash.

The ball slammed into her side of the court.

“Game and first set, 7-5!”

Second Set

I felt the adrenaline settle into focus.

Silverdale fought harder now, but I found my rhythm. 

My serves improved. 

My backhands cut sharper. At 4-2, I knew she was starting to unravel.

Match point came quick—5-3.

She double-faulted on her last serve.

“Game, set, and match: North Hills!”

I collapsed onto the bench, towel over my head, heart pounding.

Caia, Miv, and Syra rushed over the moment the referee ended the match.

“Galing mo do'n!” Caia grinned.

“Ang lakas ng smash mo, Margs!” Syra added.

Coach Leo gave me a proud nod. “That’s how you play tennis.”

As I caught my breath, I looked up — across the bleachers, Southbridge athletes watched on.

One of them… the same girl.

Still watching.

Still expressionless.

I held her gaze for a second.

Then looked away.