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14
MIA
The Blue and Red Teams are running up and down the field, taking positions, while the referee holds up the scale-ball. At least this time I’m not so worried about injuries. The boys have been healing up well, from what I saw, and I hope Ophelia’s enchantment gives them enough leeway to think strategically and play without getting fresh injuries.
That scale-ball sure can hit hard if you’re not careful. I’ll never forget Emrys falling and not getting up, being carried out of the field, when that frigging ball attacked him and hit him where he’d already been wounded by the spelled arrow.
Boys and their violent sports.
A girl can never roll her eyes hard enough at boy activities.
Then, of course, the game starts and my God, boys are so sexy when doing boy things, including violent sports, so no more eye-rolling happens as I sit on the edge of my seat and hold my breath. Boys in uniforms running around a field means muscular, hairy legs, but also bare, toned arms and tousled heads—and then the referee whistles, opens his arms, and the ball flies off, toward the players.
It’s on.
The ball stops over them, hovering in mid-air, flashing with lights. Then it dives down and they run. The idea is to, first, avoid getting whacked by the scale-ball, and second, to grab it and carry it to their net, scoring for their team.
Only magical creatures take part in this sport—humans would likely die from the hits the ball delivers—and only boys because the magical races produce so few girls.
The few girls by the magical races obviously have more brains than the boys because they don’t take part.
But oh God, watching this game never grows old, never fails to get my blood run hot in my veins. Emrys is leading the charge, chasing after the ball as it slams into one after another of his teammates. Before he can tackle it, it changes direction and slams into the Blue Team. Jason jumps after it, almost catches it, but it flies away, bowling over two of the Blue Team members, sending them to the ground where they roll, clutching at their middles and sides.
The students on the bleachers rise to their feet, yelling encouragement and curses. It’s mostly human girls and magical boys, but also a few human boys, clustered together. They tend to avoid these games. It probably offends their ego, seeing how much stronger the magical races are.
“How very ornamental,” Vanessa says but I don’t pay her attention until she nudges me in the ribs and juts her chin toward the seats where Ophelia and Zoey are sitting. “I mean, I’d love such accessories myself.”
I glance that way and stare, because my two other boys—Sindri and Ashton—are standing behind Ophelia like bodyguards, hands hanging at their sides, faces impassive.
What in the world…? Does she need to keep an eye on them at all times?
“It’s not funny,” I breathe, making myself look away, turning my gaze back to the field.
“Didn’t say it was. Is she siphoning them right now? Kind of crass, if you ask me.”
“Siphoning them?”
“Well, she’s touching them.”
I glance that way again. She’s leaning back against them and wait… is she gripping their hands? “What the hell?” I whisper.
“Maybe she’s running low on mojo. She’s on a dry spell. Needs to top off.”
“Screw her.”
And yet she’s not. Screwing the boys, that is. Unless she’s lying. But why would she miss the opportunity to rub such a thing in my face?
No, she can’t be lying about that. It wouldn’t make sense.
“Oh, look!” Vanessa points down at the field, and I lean forward as Emrys races after the ball and jumps so high he looks like he’s flying, slapping the ball to the ground. He pounces on it, grabs it to his chest, and runs toward the net of his team.
Jason is hard on his heels, pounding after him. He tackles Emrys and they both drop to the churned grass. The ball flies out of Emrys’ hold and turns—but it only passes over them, without attacking, and dives into the Blue Team, knocking a few members over.
“Are you seeing this?” I whisper.
“Seeing what?”
“The scale-ball. It’s not attacking Jason and Emrys.”
