The Super Expensive Racket

The cheers in the gymnasium crashed against my eardrums like waves, and the fingers gripping my badminton racket turned pale. The recently concluded badminton final ended with me narrowly edging out my opponent. Sweat dripped down my jawline, hitting the bright blue sports floor and spreading into a small dark stain. "Simon Geller, that racket of yours looks extraordinary." A teammate came over, reaching out to touch my badminton racket. I instinctively turned aside to avoid it, and the gesture instantly made the atmosphere awkward. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a neat freak." I tugged at the corner of my mouth, trying to hide the stiffness from earlier. Just then, a familiar figure pushed through the crowd and walked toward me—it was Emily Sue. She was wearing a white dress today, standing out among the sea of sportswear around us. "You played well." Emily's tone was flat, but her gaze was fixed intently on the badminton racket in my hand. "Not bad." I casually slipped the racket into the nearby sports bag, the zipper making a crisp sound. "How much is this racket?" Emily Sue suddenly asked, her voice soft, but it made me freeze for a moment. I hesitated for two seconds, then answered truthfully, "About three hundred thousand dollars." The moment the words left my mouth, Emily Sue's expression changed instantly. The teammates around us held their breath, clearly stunned by the figure. "Simon Geller, are you out of your mind?!" Emily Sue's voice suddenly shot up, sharp as nails scraping glass. "Thirty thousand dollars for a racket? Do you even realize what you could do with that money?" I frowned, disliking her public scolding: "It's my own money, and professional equipment really..." "Can you really squander your own money like this?" Emily Sue suddenly cut me off, her chest rising and falling sharply. "Jill Franklin scrimps and saves every day, not even willing to buy a new exercise book, yet you play with a racket worth hundreds of thousands? Do you have any conscience?" The name Jill Franklin felt like a thin needle, lightly pricking me. He was the poorest student in our class, introverted, always wearing a faded school uniform, truly living in hardship. But what does that have to do with my racket? "I have donated to the school's poverty fund." I explained patiently, "I donate money every year. Jill Franklin's scholarship fund should include my share." "Is that enough?" Emily Sue pressed on relentlessly, her eyes filled with an obsession I couldn't understand. "Why don't you just sponsor him directly? Giving him half the money for the racket would solve how big a problem his family has!"