Fighting for Amely | Ongoing

Nathaniel | Just a Favor

Amely causes quite the stir at school all week.

Being the first new student, the first new individial we've had in Palm Brook in almost two years, makes her prime target for everyone in terms of who they're going to pay attention to and ultimately who they're going to talk about. It doesn't help that Amely dresses about as different from the girls around here as can be; a fact that drives both sexes at the school wild for vastly different reasons. She's also consistently late for home room and has the air of nicotine, although desperately light, constantly clinging to her skin.

We haven't spoken since Monday night but even so I can't seem to get her out of my head. I had another dream about her on Tuesday, and spent most of lunch on Wednesday trying to catch her eye without being obnoxiously obvious about it. I got one death glare and a huge smirk from Nicole; turning around I was rewarded with the same smirk from Matt. I let it go after that, deciding my integrity was much more important than my desperate attempts to try and catch her attention.

I didn't see her at lunch today, not that I'd admit to anyone that I had been looking for her, nor was she in homeroom this morning. Nicole, though, was surprisingly absent from the cafeteria as well, so that meant that she was somewhere around school property (Nicole's record for perfect attendance has been running since kindergarten and I doubt that even her new found attachment to Amely could mess that up).

After lunch, I didn't expect to see Amely until tomorrow - hopefully in homeroom, even if it was only a glance. So when I look up from the water break Coach Wesley, in all his 'kindness' finally let us have to see her sitting on the bleachers, I'm surprised. She's catching glances from the rest of the team as well, all of us standing around the bench and ninety percent of us are looking, not at the cheerleaders, or at each other, but at Amely. With the cigarette hanging out of the right side of her mouth and her eyes locked on me, she paints a pretty picture in her blue jeans with the rips going up both legs and the white tank top she's wearing that leaves little to the imagination. I raise my hand, giving her what I hope is a cool half way although I'm sure I look like an idiot, and shove my helmet back on my head.

"Focus, guys," I grab Matt's jersey and all but drag him back to the field, the rest of the boys following in tow. Wesley's going to have a conniption if he sees her smoking on his beloved bleachers so the goal, as Matt and I both can see with a simple look in the same direction, is to keep him as focused on the field as possible. Forty minutes left of practice means forty minutes of getting our asses handed to us. Forty minutes left of practice also means forty minutes of being distracted when I pick my head up by the singular person in the bleachers who, for one reason or another, has her eyes set on me.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

"So you're not the quarterback." She's waiting for me by the truck after I wrap up practice, her hands resting on her hips, her back leaning against the dusty black paint. "I have to say I'm a little let down."

"I'm sorry?" I'm thrown through a loop, standing here covered in sweat while she gives me that half smile that quirks up just one side of her face. Her hair's down, framing her face, making her grey eyes stand out just a little bit more. "I uh...what can I do for you?" What can I do for you? I'm an idiot. An actual idiot. If the guys were around they'd be cracking up at the amount of idiocity that was pouring off of my general being.

Amely smiles. A little bit more than her half-lipped quick but a little bit less than what I would consider a genuine smile and pushes off the truck to stand up straight. "I need a favor. And since Nicole's a bad liar," not sure how she's figured that out but I nod my head in agreement, "I figured that you're the only person I know otherwise who I could ask."

A thousand different thoughts race through my mind as she stands there looking at me, expectantly. "I'm not stealing a car." I say before I can stop myself and then flinch, half expecting to be smacked in the face.