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chapt three, pit of thoughts.
Eyes were always on Sasha Darling. Whether it was because of her permanent glare, untamed brown hair or the dark genetic mutation bruise on her left side cheek curving to her jaw. Her parents admired it, because having two hunter marks made her extra special. Concealing her true emotions has never been a problem for her. She learned it so young. Sometimes, it's hides from herself.
"Shouldn't you be in band practice, goober," Sasha inquired, her cleats digging into the green field. Her chin raised at the eyes lingering on her, fingers relaxed clutching the stick and helmet.
"It's hard to concentrate on the trombone when a newly bitten werewolf is on the field, where Coach allows murder for a point," Lauren said. Silver bracelets jingle on his long arms, tightening his grip on his maroon bag. Her stick and helmet are thrown on the bench besides a teammate occupying the same outfit; grey long sleeve and a maroon mesh singlet and different coloured gym shorts. It's not her he's worried about, werewolves tend to be easily aggravated. Especially the new ones.
She stretched her legs arm over her right shoulder, focusing on the dark trees at the end of the field. "I'm not going to kill someone in front of everyone that's mortifying. All the blood on me," Her nose crinkled, "I can't shower in school."
"Yeah, the water pressure is low," Lauren agreed, he blew out his cheek eyes and grazed the back of his hair. His kinky hair flourished, only because he wanted to try cornrows this year.
"They should do something about that, right?" Sasha murmured, switching arms. Controlling herself is an art her dad helped her master. It's the waiting, the holding yourself back that makes you want it more. She should've eaten more than two buttered toast this morning.
"Darling!" Coach Finstock's voice boomed around the field. Their heads turned. Scott had his head bowed, a discouraged look glossing his features. "You're out of the goal today. Scott's going to learn how take a balls to his face." Asking what purpose it brought would be fruitless, she learned not to question his methods. "Let's go. Come on!"
Her helmet sunk on her head. She despised having to tie her hair in a bun to fit in her helmet, it made her heel ugly. Allison waved brief as she sprints on the field, Lydia beside her on the highest bench. Jackson pushed her out of line when their shoulders but she managed to shove him behind her. Coach whistled. Scott squeezed his ears and hunched over. She thought, the bell would've been loudest for him. A player sprints ahead and flings the ball knocking him off his feet.
"Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!" Jackson jeered, near the back of the line. Quiet laughter bounces between them. Sasha persuaded player after player to let her ahead. The line looked like it'd never catch up to her when stood in front of Jackson. Scott picks himself up and shakes his shoulders. Her turn.
