The bell rang and most of the students left relieved. Backpacks slung over shoulders, laughter in the hallways, and weekend plans floating in the air.
But for Kelvin, it was just the beginning.
He swapped his notebook for cleats, the school uniform for the club’s.
While some classmates exited through the main gate, he walked toward the locker room, with steady steps and a focused gaze.
The training after exam week was always the most intense.
As if everything that had been held back during the days of studying needed to be released right there, on the field.
Kelvin was the first to arrive.
The pitch was still silent, with freshly painted lines and the late afternoon sun bathing everything in gold.
He was stretching quietly when he heard footsteps behind him.
"You don’t waste any time, huh?", said Ian, arriving with his shirt in hand.
"A week without training already made me restless", Kelvin replied, rolling his shoulders. "I need to run"
Soon, the other players started to arrive: Kazana, Rodrigo, Dante, Felipe, João Vitor, Márcio, Murilo...
The core of the team was all there.
Voices began to fill the field, and that match-day energy started to take shape.
The coach appeared shortly after, clipboard under his arm.
"Good afternoon, everyone. Exams are over, now it’s time to get back to what matters", he said firmly. "We lost the game against Héra because we lacked intensity. We lacked attitude. Today, we’re going to fix that. Start warming up with two-touch passes, then we’ll move straight to offensive movement drills"
Training began with quick passing in small groups.
Kelvin and Dante were in the same one, and the synchronicity between them was clear — one passed, the other got open, always moving, building rhythm.
Then came the tactical drills.
The coach stopped plays, corrected positions, demanded more pace and verticality.
"Kelvin, get into the box more often!", he shouted at one point. "You’ve got the burst, but you need to be more decisive!"
In the next play, Kelvin received on the wing, cut inside with speed, and unleashed a powerful shot across goal.
The ball skimmed the crossbar.
"That’s it!", praised the coach. "A few more like that and you change the game by yourself"
The session shifted to a full-pitch scrimmage.
Starters versus reserves.
Felipe on the right, Kazana in the center, Kelvin on the left.
Right at the beginning, he received a pass from Rodrigo in midfield.
With a quick turn, he left two markers behind.
He advanced, saw Kazana dragging defenders, and cut diagonally.
Dante came in to cover, but Kelvin nudged it just over his leg and finished with his left foot.
Murilo saved it, but barely.
"You’re on fire today!", shouted João Vitor, laughing.
Kelvin didn’t respond. He was focused.
No room for joking around.
He wanted to show that the loss was behind him.
That he had learned from his mistakes.
That he was ready for the next step.
The scrimmage remained intense, with hard tackles and tight marking.
Even though it was just practice, no one wanted to lose.
Every play was a battle, every challenge a message.
And Kelvin seemed to be on a different rhythm.
He stole the ball, showed up constantly, and even when he missed, he came back to fix it.
His thirst for improvement was visible.
And it was starting to infect the rest of the team.
"Go get him, Kelvin!", Felipe shouted, seeing a counterattack forming.
Kelvin sprinted to press Márcio, who was carrying the ball out.
He timed the tackle perfectly and exploded toward the goal.
He shot from outside the box, low and into the corner.
The ball hit the post and went in.
Murilo didn’t even move.
The coach blew the whistle and stopped the play.
"That’s what I want to see!", he shouted. "Determination! That’s the energy we lacked in the last game!"
The players began to regroup, sweating, breathless.
The coach called everyone to the center circle.
"Listen", he said seriously, looking each one in the eye. "Next week we’ll keep training"
A heavy silence fell over the group.
"Next week we’ll keep training", the coach repeated firmly. "We don’t have a game scheduled yet, but that’s no excuse to slow down. This is when we grow"
The group nodded silently, still catching their breath. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⚫𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⚫𝕟𝕖𝕥
Most with hands on knees, sweating, trying to recover.
But Kelvin... Kelvin stood tall, eyes locked on the coach.
Almost as if he wanted more.
Far from there, near the field, Júlia remained standing with her eyes fixed on the pitch.
The notebooks in her hands were just for show.
Her eyes, however, were glued to Kelvin.
She watched him run, dribble, throw himself into every play as if it were a championship final.
And without realizing it, she furrowed her brows, deep in thought.
She had seen something similar at home — in her brother.
The obsession with his own limits.
The urge to be the best, to erase every shadow of doubt, even before he became who he is now.
But... there was something more in Kelvin.
Something she couldn’t quite explain yet.
Down on the field, the drill continued.
Now focused on quick finishes under pressure.
"Three touches max!", the coach yelled. "Pass, control, shoot! Quickly!"
Kelvin received it from Felipe at the edge of the box, controlled it on his chest, and shot on the first touch.
The ball slammed off the crossbar.
"Again!", shouted the coach.
Kelvin didn’t complain.
He returned to position, asked for another ball.
Júlia smirked slightly, impressed.
She remembered their conversation in the library.
How surprised he was to see her.
The humility in admitting Chemistry was tough for him.
The sincere way he talked about football.
She sighed, still watching him.
"You’re going to get hurt like that, you know?", she muttered again, as if he could hear her.
At that moment, Kelvin received another ball, dribbled past two cones at speed, and shot low, into the corner.
The teammates applauded. The coach smiled.
And Júlia felt her chest tighten, without really knowing why.
Training was winding down, but Kelvin seemed like he wanted to keep going.
Even sweating, even out of breath, his eyes were still hungry.
And up there, someone was noticing.
More closely than he imagined.