Break Time

"Um, I'm Miles Br—" I started, but just as I opened my mouth, the bell rang loudly, cutting me off. The sharp sound pierced through the classroom, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I sighed, my shoulders relaxing in relief. I was saved by the bell.

Mrs. Wood glanced at her watch, clearly aware of the time. "Alright, everyone, that's the break. You've got 30 minutes. Head to the canteen or wherever you need to go, and we'll pick up where we left off in the next lesson" she said, waving her hand dismissively.

The class immediately erupted into chatter, chairs scraping against the floor as students stood and began gathering their things. Jess turned to me, flashing me a quick smile. "Nice meeting you, Miles," she said, her voice light as she slung her bag over her shoulder and joined a group of classmates heading for the door.

"Uh, yeah, you too," I mumbled, but she was already walking away, lost in the crowd. My words barely made it out, and I wasn't sure she even heard me. I stood there momentarily, watching as everyone paired into little groups, chatting and laughing as they made their way to the hallway.

I followed behind a group from our class, still feeling that sense of relief from avoiding my introduction. That wasn't so bad, I thought, letting my mind wander. My class seems like a decent group of people. I walked in step behind them, feeling like I was just one step behind the socializing, but not quite part of it yet.

As we approached the canteen, I could hear the familiar hum of voices getting louder, and the smell of food began to fill the air. The queue wasn't long, and I joined the line behind a few other students. I glanced around, seeing faces from different years—some Year 8s1, Year 9s, and even Year 10s scattered among the mostly Year 7s. The atmosphere buzzed with the excitement of the first break of the year.

The line moved slowly forward, and as I waited, I noticed a group of Year 11 students approaching the canteen. They looked like giants—tall, confident, and with an air of authority that made me feel like a tiny bug in comparison. Without a second thought, they pushed their way into the front of the queue, forcing me and a few others back.

I stumbled and lost my balance, ending up on the floor. "Woah!" I muttered to myself as I got up, brushing off my trousers. One of the Year 11s looked back briefly but didn't say anything. Despite what had just happened, I smiled to myself. "They're so strong and cool," I whispered under my breath, still in awe of their confidence.

Just as I picked myself up, a teacher overseeing the queue walked over. She was tall—probably about six feet—and had pale skin that was covered with a thick layer of foundation. Her stern expression made it clear she wasn't here for nonsense. "Miss Collier," someone whispered behind me.

Miss Collier didn't waste any time. "You boys at the front!" she called out, her voice sharp. The Year 11s turned to face her, one of them rolling his eyes. "Get to the back of the queue like everyone else, or I'll be having a word with your Head of Year."

One of the Year 11s, a tall boy with his hair slicked back, replied with a smirk, "Oh, calm down, Miss. We were just getting some food." His tone was filled with attitude, and his friend snickered beside him.

Miss Collier narrowed her eyes, not backing down. "I don't think you'll be laughing when I report this to your Head of Year." There was an edge to her voice that shut down the smirking quickly. The Year 11s exchanged a few glances, clearly not wanting to get in trouble, but instead of going to the back of the queue, they reluctantly moved back just a few spots, cutting in behind a couple of Year 8s. They muttered under their breath, still carrying themselves with a hint of attitude, but for now, they kept their distance.

I watched the whole exchange with wide eyes. "So that's what Year 11s are like? Wow… so much confidence," I said to myself in amazement.

Finally, I reached the front of the queue and ordered a slice of square pizza, a decent size for the £1.54 price tag. I placed my finger on the fingerprint scanner, watching as the canteen lady checked my profile and deducted the cost from my school allowance. It always fascinated me how this system worked, linking everything together—food, printing, and even paying for things in school. Technology was amazing.

With my pizza in hand, I stepped outside, taking a bite as I wandered around the grounds. I remembered overhearing some of my classmates talking about the football courts, and I decided I'd check them out. I wasn't sure where they were, but I was determined to find them.

As I walked, I spotted a clock and realized only 10 minutes had passed. "That whole thing with the Year 11s was only 10 minutes?" I muttered in disbelief. I had 20 minutes left to explore. Following the sounds of kids yelling and the thud of a football being kicked, I finally stumbled upon the courts.

A group of Year 7s was playing soccer, and I immediately recognized Luke Hughes among them. Before I could ask to join, a PE teacher monitoring the courts, Mr. Wareham, called out to me. "Oi, where are your trainers, kid?"

I froze for a second, looking down at my shoes. "I didn't know I needed trainers, sir," I replied, my voice unsure. "But some of the other kids don't have trainers either," I added, gesturing toward the court.

Mr. Wareham, a rough-looking man with stubble and piercing blue eyes, glanced over at the students playing. He frowned slightly but shrugged. "Alright, fine, but make sure you've got trainers next time." He stepped back, allowing me to join the game.

With only 15 minutes left, I ran over to where Luke and the others were playing. "Can I join?" I asked, a little out of breath.

Luke looked me up and down, almost sizing me up, before giving a small nod. "Yeah, sure. Just don't slow us down." He kicked the ball, and I could tell he was used to being in charge, but I was just happy to be included.

We played for a few minutes, and I was starting to feel the rhythm of the game. The ball rolled toward my feet, and for a split second, I could see the opportunity to do something big. Just then, a boy from 7R, who had been hacking and fouling our team the whole time, came charging toward me. I didn't know his name—just that he was the "fouling kid"—but I knew he was going to try and take me out.

But before he could get to me, I pulled off a quick skill move, flicking the ball around him. He was left stumbling, and I heard a collective gasp from the other players. "Woah!" someone shouted. I looked up, realizing I had bamboozled him completely. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Did I do that?

But just as I was about to make my next move, the bell rang, signaling the end of the break. Mr. Wareham blew his whistle. "Alright, that's it! Pack it up, everyone!" he yelled.

Everyone stopped, except for Luke, who picked up the ball and shouted, "Last goal wins!" He sprinted toward the goal, and everyone started chasing him. Mr. Wareham, clearly annoyed, blew his whistle even louder. "Stop now, or no ball until lunch!" he barked.

Luke, finally dropping the ball, jogged over to where I stood. "Not bad, Miles," he said, almost reluctantly. I took it as a compliment, even though he still seemed like he wanted to be the one in control.

I tried to make conversation. "Do you play outside of school?"

Luke smirked, clearly ready to boast. "Yeah, mate. I score loads of goals for my team. We're probably the best around."

I nodded, genuinely impressed. "Wow, that's amazing. I've never been that good," I admitted, feeling like I might have just made my first real connection at Chelmer Valley.

Luke grinned, soaking up the attention. "Stick with me, and maybe I'll teach you a thing or two."

I grinned, "Luke's a pretty cool guy," I said as I followed behind him, both of us heading to our next lesson.

I couldn't help but grin, feeling a small rush of excitement. "Luke's got something about him," I thought, watching as he walked ahead with that casual confidence. Without thinking, I stepped behind him, feeling a little more at ease. Maybe this was the start of something—someone to hang out with, someone who knew the ropes. As we headed to our next lesson together, I let myself hope that things might be looking up after all.