All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter (Book 1)|| COMPLETE

The Boys Are Back In Town

The following three days, there is no practice. It's the holiday weekend, and Coach was nice enough to give us one last free weekend before the season kicks in full-gear. School starts the day after Labor Day, too. That means three days to prepare myself for everything I'm about to endure.

I wake up Tuesday morning, nauseas. Whether it's jitters from my first day of senior year, or my first practice as an official team member, or my usual dread of school, I'm unsure.

I pour myself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and down in it minutes. I brush my teeth and tame my long, tangled mane of brown hair. It's naturally kinky/wavy and thick, so it does whatever it wants. I toss it all over to one side of my head. It's not worth fighting with.

I pull on a pair of black jeans, a gray hooded sweatshirt, and a blue denim jacket. All are a bit too big for my body, but again, that's all the men's section at Goodwill had. As long as I look tall and bulky, I'm fine.

I debate between wearing Converse or combat boots. Will I need to run for my life today, or kick some ass?

Last year, I would've said Converse. They were my go-to shoe; I wore them literally every day. But this year? I'm done running.

I strap on my combat boots. Hell, yeah.

A horn beeps outside. I throw on my backpack, clomp down the wooden stairs and meet Calvin, who is sitting in his truck in my driveway. I open the passenger door and climb aboard.

"Thanks again," I mutter as I click my seatbelt on.

"No problem," he says, looking behind us. He backs down the driveway and pulls onto the street.

I used to take the bus to school. But then The Incident happened last year, and I was getting harassed by the boys, and the bus was prime hunting ground. Half-way through the year Cal got his license, and he offered to drive me. It's really out of his way, and I don't always have the funds to float him for gas, but he never complains.

He has no idea how much it means to me.

"Last first day of school," he breathes. "You ready?"

"So ready," I laugh. "Thank God, it's gonna be over." I'd have dropped out last year if it weren't for him. He's the reason I made it to today.

He reaches over and clicks on the stereo. The opening shreds of a song blast through the speakers.

"Dude! Turn that down!" I laugh.

"No way! We need to get pumped up. This is our day. Our year. We're gonna take the school by storm." He's grinning ear to ear. I roll my eyes. As soon as the lyrics start, he sings along:

"Guess who just got back today

Them wild-eyed boys that had been away

Haven't changed that much to say

But man, I still think them cats are crazy!" His facial expressions are so exaggerated, I crack up.

"'The Boys are Back in Town'? Really?" I tease. He looks at me impishly and just keeps singing.

"They were askin' if you were around

How you was, where you could be found

Told 'em you were livin' downtown

Drivin' all the old men crazy!"

"Ew!" I laugh. "There are no men I drive crazy, I can assure you."

"C'mon, sing it with me - The boys are back in town, the boys are back in town!"

"The boys are back in town, the boys are back in town!" I join in. I hit the drum beats on the dash board. At a red light, he plays air guitar, his fingers dancing up and down imaginary frets. We alternate lyrics.