Rain poured down as students rushed into school. Emma, the new junior, hurried across the courtyard, clutching her books.
That’s when Vanessa saw her.
Vanessa ruled the school through fear. She stood with her crew under the awning, watching Emma struggle through the rain.
Vanessa: Look at the new girl. Thinks she can just walk through our courtyard.
Before Emma could react, two of Vanessa’s friends grabbed her arms. Vanessa shoved her hard from behind.
Emma flew forward into the massive mud puddle near the entrance. She landed face-first. Mud splattered everywhere—covering her face, soaking her clothes, coating her books and backpack.
Students watched from the dry areas. Some laughed. Most stayed silent. Nobody helped.
Emma pushed herself up, mud dripping from her hair. Her books were ruined, pages soaked brown. Her bag was destroyed.
Vanessa: That’s what you get for walking like you own the place. Welcome to Lincoln High.
They walked inside laughing. Emma stood there alone in the rain and mud, shaking.
What they didn’t know: Emma wasn’t just any transfer student. She was the state tennis champion. Recruited to lead Lincoln’s team to nationals.
The next morning was sunny and dry. Students arrived to find something unusual.
Ten girls in matching tennis uniforms stood in a line outside the main entrance. Each held a tennis racket. At their feet: buckets of mud from yesterday’s rain.
Emma stood in the center, calm and ready.
When Vanessa and her crew walked up, they stopped. Confused. Then worried.
Emma: Remember yesterday? My turn.
In perfect synchronized motion, all ten tennis players loaded their rackets with handfuls of mud.
Then they served.
Ten rackets swung in unison. Mud flew in perfect arcs across the courtyard. Every shot hit its target.
Vanessa took mud directly in the face and chest. Her friends got plastered from multiple angles. Brown sludge covered their designer clothes, their hair, their shoes.
The bullies screamed, stumbled, fell trying to escape. But the tennis team had surrounded them. Nowhere to run.
The entire school—hundreds of students—watched from windows, doorways, the parking lot.
Then someone started clapping.
Then another. Then everyone.
The applause built to a roar. Cheering, whistling, shouting. Students filmed, laughed, celebrated.
Vanessa stood covered head to toe in mud, exactly like Emma had been. Humiliated in front of everyone.
Emma walked over, perfectly clean, holding her racket.
Emma: That’s what you get for pushing people around. Oh, and I’m your new tennis captain. Anyone who wants to join a winning team—tryouts are this afternoon.
Vanessa tried to complain to Principal Harris.
Harris: You physically assaulted our star recruit and destroyed her property. Consider yourself lucky she only used mud. You’re suspended for a week. When you return, you’ll apologize to Emma and the entire student body.
By that afternoon, 30 students showed up for tennis tryouts.
Emma’s team went on to win regionals, then state, then nationals.
And nobody at Lincoln High ever pushed anyone into the mud again.
