Harmony

Chapter 2

"Violet Ferguson..."

"Present!"

"Aaron Harding..." 

"Right here!" A Samoan guy says with the utmost confidence. All sorts of girls are staring at him, while his arm is around the princess.

"Jessica Irving..."

"Here."

"Apollo Jones"

"H-here." Did I ever mention Apollo has social anxiety? 

"Phoenix Jones..."

I yawned and replied as the teacher called out roll for his economics homeroom, "Here."

I looked up and saw the girl, who I suppose is named Violet, from the limo earlier staring at me. I smirked and raised a brow. Once she snapped back into reality, she gave me a cold glare and turned around. Jeez, what's this chick's problem?

"Lela Lockley..."  

"Here."

I look over to the chick reading a Stephen King book next to me. I remembered what my mother told me earlier that morning. "Give this place a chance, Phoenix. Make some friends while you're at it."

"He's a good author," I say trying to start up a conversation.

She looks up. "You read his books too?"

"I thought most everyone did," I looked at her confusedly.

She laughs dryly. "Not at Eastwood... I'm Lela."

"Phoenix," I replied with a smile. "Say, what's her deal?" I asked as I pointed toward Violet.

"Violet Ferguson? Oh yeah, you don't have a chance," she tells me.

"Why?- Wait huh?" I do a double-take. "How did you-"

"You gave off the vibes. Plus I am too, so don't worry, I won't out you. And to answer the first question, she's the head cheerleader, and she's straight. Total mean girl, too," Lela explained.

"Oh..."

"Say, aren't you the chick that played football at Westwood?" she asked.

"Actually, yeah. I played for a year," I replied. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Violet turn her head to eavesdrop. 

"You should try out this year. We've been on a bad losing streak," she encouraged me.

"I might. When are tryouts?" I asked.

"Well, tomorrow actually. Sign up sheets are all over the halls," Lela answered.

"Well, then I'm in."

After Class...

I walk down the hall and spotted a sheet saying, "FOOTBALL SIGN-UPS!" I stroll over to the sign and take a pen out of the side pocket of my bookbag. "P. Jones," I wrote.

I smirk in confidence. 

"DYKE!!" I hear a guy yell from across the hall. A couple of cheerleaders laugh as they walk by. Violet just stays silent and walks with them. 

 I watch as they leave, and sigh. Maybe I am in over my head about Violet. She's definitely way out of my league in looks. She's also too bratty for my taste. Or so I thought...

Hestia and Apollo walk up to me with a sappy smile. I got called worse for liking football at Westwood. I didn't cry much in front of my family, but they knew when I was feeling hurt. Truth be told, as close as we are I've yet to have come out to my siblings. I don't know if I ever will or can.