Second year had begun for Abdullah, and school was slowly slipping back into motion.Despite his horrible first performance at soccer, he kept going to training.
Abdullah's coach was a kind man. Most days they ran drills or played practice matches, Abdullah trying his best even when he knew it wasn't enough yet.
"Hey, if you don't make this shot, three laps around the pitch," the coach said.
"Okay," Abdullah replied, face serious.
"I'm just joking," the coach laughed. "Lighten up. Look at the other lads don't be scared to ask for advice."
One day during warm-up laps, Abdullah lagged behind as usual. After training, Ali came up to him.
"Listen," Ali said, "you need to put a hundred percent in every time. You can't just let everyone walk over you. And you can't keep thinking in your head I'm shit or I can't do it. You need to stay focused, not off in fairyland, alright?"
Ali kept going.
"You know what I did when I joined? Everyone else had been playing since they were kids. I hadn't. But I looked at them and said, these guys are fucking shit, I'm the best player here. And you know what? I became the best. That's how you become the best."
"Yeah, but you've got talent," Abdullah replied. "I'm not like you."
"That's a fucking loser mindset," Ali snapped. "Do you want to be a loser? Just keep at it and you won't need talent."
"But what if my hundred percent isn't good enough?" Abdullah asked quietly.
"Then go two hundred percent," Ali said. "Don't set your own limits in your head."
The next day they were told to do twelve sprints.
Everyone groaned.
"Oh fuck, I'm cooked." Abdullah though
They started running full speed, as fast as they physically could. Abdullah kept up for the first three sprints, but then his lungs started burning.
Hundred percent. Full hundred percent. I've gotta keep going, he told himself.
By the sixth sprint, every muscle in his legs tightened. His feet felt like he was running on glass.
"IF ANY OF YE SLOW DOWN, IT'S EIGHTEEN SPRINTS!" a coach yelled.
"Come on," Abdullah whispered to himself. "Two hundred percent."
He ran, gasping for air, barely able to breathe. He fell far behind the rest, but he didn't stop.
"YOU KEEP RUNNING UNLESS YOU WANT EIGHTEEN FOR EVERYONE!"
Joe, who didn't look bothered at all, ran beside him.
"Come on, Abdullah," Joe said. "You're doing great."
On the final sprint, Abdullah tripped, twisting his ankle and crashing to the ground. Sharp pain shot through his foot. He stood back up and kept running anyway.
That's when the coach stepped in.
"Okay, that's enough," he said firmly. "That kind of effort? Fucking unbelievable. If half my players put that in…"
Abdullah was gasping, his throat closing up.
"Alright, come get some water."
He limped off and sat out the rest of training. Walking home, Ali spoke again.
"That was good effort," Ali admitted. "But you still need to be able to run fast for long periods. A match is ninety minutes."
"Yeah," Abdullah said. "Just give me more time."
School settled in.
In SPHE, Abdullah sat with Erop. One day, their conversation took a turn.
"Aren't your people bombers?" Erop said suddenly.
"Isn't your country getting bombed?" Abdullah shot back.
"Nah man," Erop said seriously. "That's not cool. That's fucked up."
"My bad, bro."
"You know in Ukraine, I could hear explosions from my house."
"Oh shit," Abdullah said. "That sounds scary."
"Yeah. It was."
"Do you miss Ukraine?" Abdullah asked.
"Not at all. Way better here."
"What about your friends?"
"Most of my Ukrainian friends are here. I have one friend, Egor he was in my primary, but he had to go back to Ukraine for surgery."
"Couldn't he get surgery in Ireland?"
"Nah. His bones were growing too fast for his muscles to keep up."
"Oh, so he must be hella tall."
"Yeah. Taller than you anyway."
Abdullah laughed. "So when are we meeting these Ukrainian friends of yours?"
"Never."
"Why not?"
"Because Ukrainians are extremely racist."
"But we're friends."
"Yeah, because I'm not a normal Ukrainian," Erop said. "Also, you're the only nigger I don't hate."
"Woah, buddy," Abdullah said. "You can't say that. And how are you not a normal Ukrainian?"
"When have you ever seen a Ukrainian fluent in English?" Erop shrugged. "Also, I don't care."
"Fair enough."
Another day in SPHE, Erop leaned over.
"Yo. Would you rather piss a grape or shit a pineapple?"
"Okay," Abdullah said, "can I break the pineapple as it comes out? Like tear it into smaller chunks? Is it a whole pineapple? Can I choose the size—"
"You can't do anything to it," Erop interrupted. "It's a whole, average-sized pineapple."
"Okay, then can I crush the grape? How the hell is a grape even getting into my bladder?"
"Magic," Erop said. "It's just the kidney stone of hell."
"So both options I'm fucked," Abdullah said. "Can I just kill myself instead?"
They both burst out laughing until the teacher shouted at them.
In art class, Abdullah sat beside Nadeem. They were told to draw an object they had.
Abdullah looked at his finished drawing — a mess — then glanced over at Nadeem's detailed sketch.
"When did you get so good at drawing?" Abdullah asked.
"It's not even good," Nadeem shrugged. "I just practice."
Abdullah noticed Nadeem had earphones in.
"Can I listen?" Abdullah asked.
"You probably won't like this."
"It's fine."
Abdullah put one earbud in.
Wow, he thought. This is dogshit.
"You want me to change it?" Nadeem asked.
"Nah, it's fine."
Later that day, Abdullah spotted Alois walking with Kyle and Kai. He joined them, but when Agim appeared, Alois left.
Later, Abdullah asked him about it.
"Why'd you leave when Agim came?"
"He's two-faced."
"How? He seems normal."
"Stay away from him," Alois said. "He makes his way into your friend group, into your life. He seems harmless, but the second you go against him, he uses everything he knows. He manipulates people. He ruins things just for the love of the game."
"Bro," Abdullah said, "you're acting like he killed your mom."
"I warned you."
That night, Abdullah got a call from Big Nano.
"How are you, beta?"
"I'm good."
Papa's surgery hadn't gone well. He'd be blind for a while.
"Just keep praying," Big Nano said.
"I will," Abdullah replied.
The next day at school, Abdullah saw Agim again.
He can't be that bad, he thought.
But something felt off.
Why does it feel like a facade? Like he's trying to be average on purpose?
His curiosity grew.
Abdullah challenged him to an arm-wrestle rematch.
"It's been a year," Abdullah said.
"You ready to lose?" Agim grinned.
They locked hands. Abdullah's arm slammed down instantly.
"Fuck," Abdullah said. "You got way stronger."
"Want a rematch?" Agim mocked.
"Give me a few months," Abdullah said. "I think you broke my wrist."
Agim laughed.
That night, Abdullah lay in bed thinking.
"Agim you really are a interesting guy."
"I wonder who are YOU."
"what type of person are YOU."
"what is the true YOU."
"Agim who are."
YOU...