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Fuck!
“I can’t believe this,” I gasp under my breath, ripping off my helmet and hurling it to the ground in frustration. Snatching it back up, I march off the field, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The locker room is silent, despite being filled with our players. I shuffle through. Ryan’s chatting with another player, trying to tell a joke, but no one’s laughing.
“Tough luck, rookie,” Tyler sneers in my direction, as if him on the bench and me playing caused our failure. Cockhead!
Changed and duffle bag in hand, we listen to Coach go over where we fucked up, starting with, “None of you had your damn heads in the game.”
That stings.
I’m barely listening once he breaks into a rant, too irritated, and now the steamrolling worry about my mom comes crashing into me.
Ryan and I head out, making our way back to his car. He bumps my shoulder with his.
“Sorry that didn’t go better for you.” He shrugs, and I see the disappointment on his face too. “Shit happens sometimes.”
“Yeah, it’s a fucked-up kind of day.”
He gives a fake chuckle. “I need food and a cold drink to drown out that game. I’m gonna do a pit stop on the way home and pick up some stuff for us.”
“You read my mind.” The weight of the disappointment I feel is a heavy cloak around my shoulders. So much for gaining a scout’s attention and earning big money.
Talk about a shit start…
CHAPTER TWO
EMILY
Night drapes the campus.
Slipping through the quiet street and into the park to get home quicker, I’m praying Dad’s already asleep. Being the only rock band member still living under a curfew and with their dad is just my luck. And he’s not just any dad. He’s the football coach, making our small two-bedroom house on campus seem even smaller, especially when he invites anyone over.
It’s ironic that my dad is a coach, seeing that me and exercise are like oil and water. We don’t mix, which is why I’m half-jogging, half-stumbling home, cursing under my breath that I need to go to the gym.
There’s hardly anyone around. The trees flanking the cobblestone path are thrashing in the breeze, and the campus buildings loom far ahead. Sparse lights steal the shadows. I won’t lie. It always unnerves me to be out on campus alone so late when everyone’s in their dorms.
The crunch of twigs comes from behind me. My heart jumps into my throat, fear pounding into me that maybe I’m not alone. Hastily, I glance over my shoulder at a spot in the far distance. A figure is in the shadows. They’re stepping onto the footpath, coming in my direction. Pulse thumping, I can’t stop the dread curling around my chest. They’re too far to make out who it is.
“What are you doing out this late?” he calls out, confirming it’s some creep. I swear this is how horror movies begin.
Me alone.
It’s nighttime.
A figure appears out of nowhere in the distance.
Then what? I run, and they chase me.
God, please, no…
I squint in the dark. Do I know that person? Someone from one of my classes? A lecturer? A guard on campus?
“Do I know you?” I say loudly, regretting interacting with them.
“I said, what the fuck are you doing out at this time of the night, whore?” he grunts, walking faster toward me now.
What the fuck?
