Spencer has always found Isaac to be a pretty boy; looks, personality, all of it. But she's also noticed the details underneath, the ones he tries to keep beneath the surface. When she's thrown into the world of the supernatural, Spencer tries to ba...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ 𝟏, Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ 𝟐: Sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ Cʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴛ Fɪʀsᴛ Lɪɴᴇ
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The brunette walks toward the field with her bag hanging from her shoulder and a textbook in her hands, pressed securely against her chest. The air is surprisingly warm and very few clouds rest in the sky. She walks toward the bleachers, giving someone a polite smile as she maneuvers past them to sit on one of the benches.
She slightly jumps when first making contact with the cool metal. Glancing around to make sure no one saw her, she sighs in relief when she realizes no one has noticed. The russet-eyed girl then places her books on the metal beside her before she places her bag on the lower part of the bench.
The coach blows the whistle, shouting at the players who enter the field for their early morning practice. "Let's go! One-on-ones from up top! Jackson, take a long stick, today!" The Whittemore boy nods, trading his usual lacrosse stick for a longer one off the ground in front of the bleachers. "Attaboy."
The man blows the whistle once more while the players get into position. Spencer looks up, immediately finding number 14, who just so happens to be Isaac Lahey. She discards her textbook and focuses her attention on the field. One of the players scoops up the ball, only to be knocked into by the Lahey boy. The girl smiles in satisfaction at his small victory.
The practice continues with Jackson stopping nearly every play, though a few slip by and into the goal. As well as, a few of the other players stopping plays being made. The brunet man blows his whistle, motioning toward one of the other boys. "Greenburg, take a lap. Let's go." He blows his whistle once again, ragging on the boy even more. "Faster, Greenburg!"
The Latino stands at the front of the line, staring into the distance. "Let's go. McCall, what are you waiting for?" Hearing his last name causes the chocolate-eyed boy to focus back on the practice currently taking place. "Let's go." The blue-eyed boy stands crouched and ready a few yards in front of the goal, Danny standing in the foal behind him with his net up and ready.
The whistle sounds throughout the field, signaling the start of the next play. The shaggy-haired boy runs forward, only to be slammed to the ground by the defender.
