Part 2

The aching shoulder was gently massaged. Ouch, his limbs were almost falling apart after doing 100 push-ups!

Why 100 all of a sudden? Easy—Ashley told everything to her husband, Aiden, who then scolded the brothers and increased their punishment.

"Are you going to the manager selection?" Ash, who had been quiet, finally spoke.

Arsher shook his head slowly. "No. I’m not interested, my shoulder feels like it’s going to fall off when I woke up this morning."

"In that case, I’ll go alone," Ash said, patting Arsher’s shoulder.

Arsher almost screamed. His shoulder was already sore, and Ash casually put his hand there?

He brushed Ash’s hand away. "It hurts, you idiot."

"Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to," Ash said with an innocent smile.

"You’re strange. Don’t you feel anything? Doesn’t your shoulder hurt?" Arsher pressed Ash’s shoulder slightly. Strangely, his brother didn’t flinch in pain...

Ash smiled again. "Mom massaged my shoulder last night. She wanted to do yours too, but it was late, and you were already asleep, I think."

"What time did Mom massage you?" Arsher was getting annoyed now. Why was Ashley so eager to massage Ash but didn’t come to him?

"Around eight, maybe. By eight-thirty, she was done with me. It’s great; I don’t feel much pain this morning."

Arsher’s eyes widened. "I wasn’t asleep yet at that time."

How could he sleep with the pain in his shoulder? Even slight movements were excruciating.

"Then what time did you go to bed?" Ash frowned.

"Not sure, maybe around eleven."

...----------------...

His eyes scanned the ten students before him. The style was there, entering this room as if they owned the place.

"Confident you can handle this interview? It’s not just one or two people to evaluate," asked Mr. Charlie to his ten students.

Amanda, the boldest of them all, nodded quickly. "Of course, that should be easy. Piece of cake."

"In that case, I’ll hand out some paper and pens. You might need them," Mr. Charlie said, distributing the items one by one.

"Sir, why don’t we start the interview now? I see there’s a long queue outside," David suggested, peeking outside.

It was packed, like a sea of people trying their luck to become the manager of the school’s badminton team.

Mr. Charlie nodded, switched on the microphone, and brought it closer to his mouth.

"To those participating in the badminton team manager selection interview, please line up and take your number."

...----------------...

Finally! After waiting until his legs went numb from standing too long, Ash’s number was called.

“Number 80!” shouted Amanda, startling Ash.

Arsher patted his brother’s shoulder. "Go on, it’s your turn."

Why was Arsher there, you ask? He wasn’t part of the interview but came as a spectator to kill time.

No one dared to scold this particular boy.

"Wish me luck," Ash said as he walked to the interview table.

Arsher, who had been standing there for half an hour, simply muttered softly. He was already getting sleepy.

Why did a manager selection require an interview anyway? It felt like applying for a job. Arsher saw Ash holding several sheets of paper earlier—apparently, his resume.

Luckily, he wasn’t alone. He had Ethan, the son of his father’s employee, for company. It made waiting a bit less dull.

"Arsher, I think those badminton kids are stressed out. Look at their faces, all frowning," Ethan pointed toward the interviewers.

Arsher followed Ethan’s gaze. "Who do you think will be the team manager? Seems like no one fits the bill so far."

Ethan shrugged. "No idea. You know how picky those badminton girls can be. Even the qualified ones could end up being rejected."

Arsher nodded in agreement. Ethan was right. Those kids really had high standards. That’s probably why Arsher was still single now.

He couldn’t understand girls’ tastes when choosing something. For him, quality was more important than appearance.

"I’m heading to the canteen. Wanna come?" Ethan asked.

Arsher shook his head. "No. I’m going to the basketball club room. I have to clean it today."

"In that case, let’s go together. The canteen and club room are on the same route," Ethan said.

"Let’s go." Arsher put his arm around Ethan shoulder so they could walk together. Forget about his sore shoulder—he had to look cool.

Outside the badminton club room, Arsher and Ethan bumped into Kayla, one of Ash’s classmates.

"Hey, Kayla! " Arsher greeted with a smile.

Kayla returned the smile, even sweeter. "Hi, Arsher."

"Kayla, where are you off to? And why are you carrying bowls and plates?" Arsher asked, eyeing the items she was holding.

"Oh, we’re going to use them. Just a fun little project," Kayla replied.

"Oh, I see. I’ll get going now, Kayla. Bye!" Arsher waved, and Kayla waved back.

Walking ahead with Ethan following, Ethan tapped Arsher’s shoulder. He seemed to have something to ask.

"What?" Arsher frowned. Why the shoulder-tapping again? His shoulder was already sore.

With a mysterious smile, Ethan asked, "Is there something going on between you and Kayla?"

Arsher raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by ‘something’? I don’t get it."

"Ugh... Do you have a special relationship with Kayla? You were smiling at her just now," Ethan sighed.

If not for the people passing nearby, Arsher would have hung Ethan from a ceiling fan by now.

"Us? No way. I just run into Kayla more often than Ash. Is it wrong to smile at her?" Arsher said, holding Ethan's shoulder.

Ethan nodded. "Oh... I thought you two had a special relationship."

Arsher smirked, suddenly recalling a secret about Ethan that he had kept hidden.

"I know you like Kayla, Ethan."

Ethan covered Arsher’s mouth. "Don’t say it so loud! Someone might hear."

Arsher removed the hand covering his mouth. What if he suffocated from lack of oxygen? The story would end in two chapters.

"The damage is done. I’ve already said it."

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