The applause from the auditorium rolled through the hallways long after Team Seven stepped off the stage. It clung to the air like smoke - warm, loud, impossible to ignore. But inside each of them, the noise felt different. Softer. Heavier. Almost sacred.
Maliya drifted through the crowd, hearing people call her name, tapping her shoulder, praising her performance. But every compliment felt distant, like she was underwater and the world was above the surface. She kept replaying the moment the lights hit them onstage, the weight of Sudan's story filling the air, the shock on the audience's faces as truths were spoken without sugarcoating. Leo's voice had cracked at one point - only for a second - but Maliya had noticed. And that one tiny crack had hit her deeply.
"Hey," Leo said as he walked beside her now, studying her expression. "You okay? You look like you're thinking too much."
"I'm not nervous anymore," she murmured.
He raised a brow. "So what is it?"
She didn't know how to explain the strange ache in her chest. The pride. The fear. The hope. The spotlight had shown her that the world was much bigger than she had imagined... and far more broken than she thought.
Behind them, Amir held the trophy like a fragile artifact. People stopped him every few seconds.
"Bro, that Morocco presentation was crazy!" "Can I take a picture with you?" "Man, Team Seven is going viral for this!"
He smiled, said thanks, posed for pictures - but inside, something was unsteady. Presenting about home was one thing. Hearing the room go silent when he spoke about the struggles Morocco still faced was another. It felt like he had opened a window into his soul and everyone saw the dust inside.
Khadija walked with her arms crossed, her head slightly bowed. The hallway felt too bright. Her heart still hadn't settled after the conversation with Matteo backstage - the apology, the honesty, the way he had looked like he couldn't breathe until she spoke.
It wasn't forgiveness yet... but something had softened, and that alone was terrifying.
Matteo followed a short distance behind the group, hands deep in his pockets, eyes tracing the floor patterns. He kept replaying Khadija's words, her tone, the look in her eyes. It wasn't anger anymore. It wasn't coldness. It wasn't indifference. It was something... complicated. Something that made his chest feel too full and too empty at the same time.
They hadn't fixed everything - but the silence between them had changed shape.
Just when they reached the main hallway, the principal's shout cut through the noise.
"Team Seven! Hold on - the President wants to meet you."
Every head turned instantly.
Students froze mid-step. Teachers straightened up. Conversations died in the air like candles going out. A group of security officers stood by the entrance - tall, serious, perfectly still. And in the center of them stood the President.
Not smiling widely. Not overly formal. Just... watching them, with eyes that carried weight.
Leo whispered, "Nah... this can't be real. Right?"
Maliya's heart pounded so loudly that she felt it in her throat. Khadija's breath hitched. Amir's grip on the trophy tightened until his knuckles went pale. Matteo's feet rooted to the ground.
The President walked toward them slowly, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.
"You spoke for nations today," he said, voice calm but powerful. "Not many adults manage to do that."
The praise didn't feel like a compliment. It felt like acknowledgment. Heavy. Important.
He turned to Leo first.
"Nigeria has been spoken for in many ways," he said, "but rarely with honesty and pain and courage combined. You did that."
Leo swallowed, lowering his gaze. His jaw clenched, but he didn't speak.
Next, the President faced Maliya.
"Italy came alive because of you. You didn't just present facts - you carried emotion. You carried history. That is rare."
Maliya blinked rapidly, unable to form words.
He shifted to Khadija.
"Brazil was truth through your voice. Not romanticized. Not exaggerated. Just real."
Khadija felt a heat in her chest, embarrassment mixing with pride.
"And you," he said, turning to Amir, "spoke of Morocco the way a caretaker speaks of a home - protective, understanding, proud."
Amir bit the inside of his cheek to keep from tearing up.
Finally, he faced Matteo.
"Turkey and America were complicated topics, but you handled them with maturity. You spoke with both strength and vulnerability. That's leadership."
Matteo nodded quietly.
The President took a breath, his gaze sweeping over all seven of them.
"The world is changing fast," he said. "And kids like you... you're not just watching the change. You're shaping it."
Something electric spread through the hallway.
"You might hear from me again soon," he added, lowering his voice slightly.
Before they could ask anything, he turned and walked away, surrounded by guards, disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.
The group stood frozen for several seconds.
Then chaos erupted around them - students rushing forward, applause restarting, phones recording, teachers whispering excitedly. The noise hit them all at once, overwhelming and dizzying.
Amir exhaled shakily. "What... what does that mean? 'Hear from me again soon'?"
"No idea," Khadija muttered.
"Bro, that man doesn't talk for fun," Leo said. "He wasn't joking."
They started walking toward the dorms as the energy around them gradually faded. But as the adrenaline left their bodies, the emotions came rushing back.
Khadija slowed her steps. Matteo noticed immediately.
He walked up beside her. "Hey."
She stopped, but didn't turn.
He took a gentle breath. "Look... thank you. For listening to me earlier. I know it wasn't easy."
"I didn't forgive you," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Yeah. I know."
"But..." Her voice softened, barely above a whisper. "I don't hate you."
Matteo's eyes softened. His shoulders relaxed just a little.
"That's enough," he said. "We can... start again. Slowly."
She nodded. "Slow is fine."
They rejoined the group, and though nothing dramatic happened, something unspoken had shifted - something fragile, something healing.
By the time they reached the front of Ridgeway Boarding High, the night air had grown colder. Wind brushed through the trees, and the school lights flickered softly against the pavement.
That's when they saw it.
A black SUV rolling toward the gate.
Same one from earlier.
Same guards.
The windows tinted darker than before.
The car slowed... but the President did not step out.
Instead, the back window lowered just a few centimeters - enough to reveal the outline of someone inside.
A voice spoke.
Calm. Low. Serious.
"Stay prepared, kids."
The window closed.
The SUV rolled away.
And Team Seven stood under the cold night sky, breath visible, hearts pounding, a strange electricity hanging around them.
Confused. Connected. Chosen. And without realizing it...
More important than they had ever imagined.