Royalty College

The scorching heat jolted me awake. I must have drifted off while watching TV. I’d forgotten to turn on the air conditioning, and now sweat clung to my skin. With a groan, I dragged myself up.

I switched on the AC and wandered to the kitchen. My phone beeped. I ignored it—probably just another T*****r or I*******m notification. Definitely not a text. I hadn’t had anyone to text in days, and the few unread messages I did have weren’t worth replying to. My phone had become boring.

I made a quick sandwich and headed back to the living room to fix my video game. At least that would keep me company until four, when I had to leave for boxing practice.

I picked up my phone to play some music—then froze. An email. Royalty College.

My heart skipped a beat. I set the phone down, whispered a quick prayer, then picked it back up. Slowly, I opened the email.

> Dear Collins Neville,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been offered admission to Royalty College for the 202...

I didn’t finish reading. I shot up and screamed so loud I thought the house might collapse—though all I managed was to summon my jobless uncle.

“Too much staying at home has made you run mad, hasn’t it?” he asked.

“Well, I won’t be staying at home for long,” I grinned.

“Don’t tell me…” A glint of hope flickered in his eyes.

“Yessss!” I yelled again. “I got in! I got in! Two years of hard work in this boring, oversized house have finally paid off!”

“This calls for a celebration.” He rushed to the wine cellar and grabbed the most exquisite bottle—my father’s. Corkscrew in hand, he was ready to open it when I stopped him.

“That’s Dad’s.”

Pop!

Too late.

“He won’t mind,” my uncle said, grinning.

I held out my glass. He poured until it brimmed over. We drank and laughed, swapping stories about college life—well, mostly his stories about the girls he “used to bag.”

Then my alarm went off—4:00 p.m. Boxing practice. If I was late, Coach would make me pay.

“Training,” I muttered.

“Damn,” my uncle said. “Get ready. I’ll grab the car keys.”

We arrived at the gym.

“You’re late,” Coach said without looking up, tightening the gloves on another boxer. “Ten laps.”

“Start now so you finish early and we can work on a few things.”

“Coach?” I called.

He looked at me.

“I got admitted today.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Congratulations. Now start your laps.” He turned away, trying to hide it, but I caught the faint smile tugging at his lips. Coach liked to act tough, but his face always gave him away.

I put on my headphones and hit the track. The music pounded in my ears as my shoes slapped against the ground. The sun was hot on my back, and every breath felt warm and heavy.

As I jogged, I kept thinking about Royalty College. I imagined my first real girlfriend—maybe a tall blonde with a nice figure. We’d hold hands after class, kiss in public, and make other guys jealous. I’d thought about it so much that I sometimes wondered if that was the real reason I wanted to go there.

But no—I wanted to be a boxer. Royalty College could make that happen. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing in my life had been. Even the admission exam was tough, but I passed. Now here I was, Collins Neville, freshman of Royalty College.

I didn’t notice I was on my eleventh lap until my legs started to feel heavy. I was tired, but the excitement kept me going.

I jogged back to the gym, and just as I walked in, I spotted someone I’d never seen there before.

A new recruit? Maybe. But then I noticed he was wearing someone else’s gym gear.

I frowned. Something about the way he was staring at me made my stomach tighten.

“Collins!” Coach called. “Your sparring partner for today’s practice match.”

"Damn. I’d completely forgotten I had a practice match today. I wasn’t prepared at all", I cried in my head.