I Like Your Fangs

Chapter 3

Every hall was doused in bright neon yellow and red; the school colors. It looked as if someone had turned Lidell High into a coloring book and used highlighters instead of crayons. Maniacs from the football team ran around throwing confetti, yelling obscenities with their painted faces. The cheerleaders were prancing up and down with their obnoxiously short miniskirts and pom-poms.

The air was thick with school spirit and hundreds of students were pouring out of the school and onto the football field outside. I dreaded our school football games, probably because we lost all the time, but mostly because I hate football. It’s just a bunch of panting, over-hormonal gorillas fighting over a ball covered in pigskin. Gross.

This should be fun.

 "Go Warblers!"

My head was pounding from the huge migraines I had been getting recently. I grabbed Jenna's arm to sit her down on the bleachers beside me.

"What? Come on,Rachel! Root for our team!" Jenna grinned at me with such enthusiasm it made me want to hurl.

I rolled my eyes at her, "We always lose, Jenna; what’s the point?"

She hesitated for a moment, her mouth open to protest. My eyebrows went up as I sarcastically waited for her rebuttal, but she sat down and I smiled with satisfaction. My eyes lazily traveled up and down the football field, following the players as they weaved and bobbed back and forth. The school's nerdiest, most prepubescent student, Rupert, was water-boy. I watched with mild humor as all the other jocks towered above him. Poor Rupert handed them Gatorade and towels.

A few players were sitting out on the bench. I gave them a quick glance. All but one had their helmets off. He was built like the rest, but he didn’t look jacked up on steroids, he was all natural. Just the way I like 'em.

I sat up a little straighter, my interest growing by the minute. Coach Grey threw down his clipboard in frustration, a large vein bulging out of his forehead. We always lost, I felt bad for the guy. He had been coaching at this school for ove rthirty years, and this was the worst team he's had by far.

“Number forty-two! Get your ass in there!” The player I had taken an interest in immediately shot up from the bench and ran out onto the field. The referee blew his whistle and both teams got into position. I wasn't familiar with football talk or rules, so I just kept my focus on number forty-two.

And my, oh my, forty-two did not disappoint. As soon as that football was thrown, forty-two turned into a god. He was graceful, quick and sharp on his feet. He leaped through the air, catching the spiraling ball. As soon as he touched the ground, it was like a game of whack-a-mole. This guy charged like a steamroller through a pack of players and eventually slowed to a light jog, quickly grinning at the crowd before he threw the football down with resilient victory. Coach Grey looked as if he had struck gold as he ran out onto that field with the entire team, lifting number forty-two onto their shoulders.

Our school hollered with victory and the bleachers rumbled with pride. I stood up with Jenna, throwing our crumby school spirit flags into the air, waving them eagerly. Finally, a fellow Warbler took off number forty-two's helmet and my entire ‘schoolspirit’ bubble burst. It was that Lukas kid. Amongst all the chaos and uproar he looked up at me from his team, his eyes seeking mine.

I swallowed down any previous curiosity I had had and walked off from the bleachers. I walked straight home. Jenna called me later that night to find out where I had gone after the game, but I ignored her. I had been so pleased with myself, being the only news of the town, the only cool kid in Lidell High, but now this annoying asshole had gone straight ahead and pushed me out of the limelight.