Coach. || BEYNIKA [Completed]

Breeding.

Onika Miraj

Pulling on the door, I come up short when I see the sign: ‘Library closed for Homecoming dance committee meeting until end of the school day. Study hall open in room 213’. Crap. I don’t know why I elected to come my senior year. I could’ve graduated at the end of my junior year, but my mom reminded me of all the things I would miss: school dances, graduation, and all the great things normal teenagers apparently do their senior year.

I’m not normal, but I know part of my mom isn’t ready for me to leave home yet. I am still her baby on some level. She always wanted a big family, and with the way things are going, that might be happening rather soon. Making my way back down the hall, I head to room 213. I’m only enrolled in two classes this semester, and neither of them are credits I need or care about. Opening the door to study hall, I stop when I see six sets of eyes turn and look at me.

A blush hits my cheeks when their gazes linger over me, and I see Safaree among the students. He gives me a cocky chin lift. It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. I can’t believe he was telling people he gave me that hickey. I’ve only been back at school a week, and it seems things have changed. If I walked into this room last year, none of them would’ve turned to look my way. Now six of the school’s football players are staring at me like I’m the ‘precious’ from The Lord of The Rings.

“Onika?”

My heartbeat accelerates when I hear my name. I know that voice all too well. I look over to see Beyoncé sitting at the front of the classroom, but my eyes shoot over to Miss Heart, who’s sitting on the corner of her desk. She’s smiling at my Beyoncé, being extra flirty, and it makes me clench my teeth.

“Sorry, Coach Knowles, the library...” My words trail off when I realize everyone is still staring at me. It’s not something I’m used to or really care for. I prefer to blend in with the crowd and keep to myself. Even more so in high school.

“Why don’t you come to the front of the room and have a seat?” She says it without having to hear the end of my sentence. She glances over to the back of the room where Safaree and some of his teammates are sitting, and then back to me. Her eyes are hard, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to get her silent message: Don’t fucking sit by them.

I debate it for half a second before I change my mind. Though I love when I get Beyoncé worked up and crazy, and Safaree seems to be her hot button, I opt not to. Tonight’s the first game of the season, and she doesn’t need me adding to her stress. No matter how much I want to go over there in protest of Miss Heart sitting on her desk, I refrain. Isn’t there a freaking thirty-year-old history book she should be updating or something?

Making my way to the front of the classroom, I sit in the chair directly in front of them, dropping my bag on the floor next to me. Now I’ll be able to hear everything they say. Miss Heart shoots me an annoyed look, like she notices this as well, but she quickly covers it up. She leans down close to Beyoncé, and it’s then I realize my mistake. Now she’ll just have to lean in close to him to whisper.

I can’t do anything but stare at her. The famous Miss Heart. And by ‘famous’, I mean all the boys have talked about her since I can remember. She teaches ninth grade history and runs the cheerleading squad for the varsity football team. Today is game day, so the cheerleaders wear their uniforms, the players all sport their jerseys, and all the teachers and students dress in ‘spirit’ gear, something I’ve never participated in. I’ve never even gone to one of the games. Living in Texas, people worship high school football; something I still don’t understand.