Today is the finals for the football matchâAnderson High versus Columbia State High. My mom initially wanted to enroll me at Columbia State, but I told her it sounded more like a prestigious academy than a public school. So, here I am at Anderson High, and honestly, I don't regret it.
I've met some amazing friends here so far, especially Amelia, and the community has grown on me.
As the game approaches, the students are buzzing with excitement. Cayden's fan club, a dedicated group of girls, has been preparing for weeks to create a massive, hand-painted banner with his name and face on it. They've really outdone themselves; the level of dedication is impressive, if not a little over the top.
After grabbing popcorn and soda, Amelia and I search for a good spot to watch the game. I spot two empty seats three rows down near the field, but I can already tell it's a bad view. "Ugh, this is going to suck," I mutter under my breath.
My legs ache for a place to sit. "Just sit here," I tell Amelia. The place is almost packed, with students from Columbia State filling the bleachers, so we don't have much choice.
The game is about to start in five minutes, and I can hardly contain my anticipation. As I munch on my popcorn, I notice Amelia eyeing it. I slap her hand away. "Hey! What did I do?" she protests, rubbing the back of her hand.
"Get your own popcorn!"
"Geez! Sorry, hobo," she retorts, rolling her eyes at me.
I glare at her, momentarily offended. "Whatever. Just get your own," I reply, placing my bag on her seat as a makeshift placeholder.
I chuckle to myself, thinking how generous I am. I then turn my attention to the field. The marching band is lining up, ready to kick off the festivities with their xylophones, trumpets, and drums. I've never been a fan of marching bands; the drums always seem to bang too loudly.
Once they finish their performance, Amelia returns with a corn dog in hand. I look at it, and she immediately catches my gaze. "Don't even think about it," she warns, and I roll my eyes in response.
"What did I miss?" she asks, taking a big bite of her corn dog.
"The marching band performed, and my ears are begging to go deaf. But the girls with their batons did some cool tricks," I reply, watching as the cheerleaders begin to take the field.
Those girls in their tiny skirts and crop tops make me uncomfortable. I don't understand why cheerleading always involves such revealing outfits. I shake my head, trying to focus on the game instead.
The announcer's voice booms through the stadium, "Now, let us welcome Columbia State High School and its amazing football players!" The crowd erupts as the Columbia players run onto the field, high-fiving and cheering each other on.
"And now, let us welcome Anderson High School and its powerful football players!" The cheerleaders jump into action, their cheers drowning out the crowd. I spot Cayden on the field, and the girls around me go wild, screaming, "I love you, Cayden!" and "That's my boo right there!"
Amelia stands up, waving a banner she made for Noah. "Woohoo! Go, Noah!" she shouts, and I can't help but laugh.
"When did you have time to make that?" I ask, incredulous.
"Ever since Noah was born. I was born to be his cheerleader," she replies with a gleam in her eye.
Amelia is completely infatuated with Noah, and honestly, I can't blame her. As the players take their positions, I notice Logan scanning the bleachers. When his eyes land on me, he flashes a thumbs-up, and I return the gesture. Cayden catches sight of me too, but his focus quickly shifts back to the referee.
We all stand for the National Anthem, the energy palpable in the air. After the last note fades, the coaches start selecting players for the first set of the game. Finally, the whistle blows, and the match begins.
Time flies as the first set comes to an end, and I can hardly contain my excitement. Anderson High is ahead, 36 to 16, thanks to Cayden's impressive touchdown. The adrenaline surges through me, possibly fueled by the three large sodas I've downed.
"Hey, I'm going to the bathroom," I tell Amelia, who nods absentmindedly, eyes glued to the field. "Save my seat, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," she replies, waving me off.
I navigate my way down the bleachers and dash to the bathroom. After I finish, I flush and step out, only to collide with someone. It's Katie, her face immediately contorting into a look of disgust.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off sulking somewhere?" she scoffs, her friends cackling at her jab.
"I didn't come here to listen to your nasty comments. Excuse me," I say, trying to push past her.
Katie unexpectedly grabs my hair, and I freeze. "You're so disrespectful. I shouldn't waste my time talking to trash like you."
"Then don't!" I snap, wrenching her hand off my hair. "And for the record, you're the trash here, not me."
I storm past her and make my way back to my seat, grabbing my popcorn. "That's mine!" Amelia pouts as I dig in.
"Sorry," I mumble, and she rolls her eyes but lets me continue eating.
"Hey, we've got five minutes left!" the coach yells. "Don't let me down and win this match, got it?"
"Yes, Coach!" the players shout, their energy electrifying the crowd.
"Did I miss anything?" I ask Amelia.
"Noah just scored a touchdown while you were gone. Columbia State got two points, though," she explains. "What took you so long? Did you do number two?"
I shoot her a look. "No! I just bumped into someone."
"You keep bumping into people. You need to watch where you're going," she teases.
"Look! Number 12 is making an amazing throw!" the announcer calls, and I turn my attention back to the game. The ball arcs through the air, and I can't help but hold my breath.
"It's a loss! The ball is headed for the bleachers! There it goes!" the announcer continues, and suddenly, I hear a familiar voice shouting, "Hailey! Watch out!"
I turn to see Logan waving at me from the field, and I grin back. But before I can react, the football smacks me right in the face.
My world goes black for a moment, and I'm left reeling from the impact. I blink back into reality as laughter erupts around me. "Dude, look! It's the girl who got hit by the football!" a guy shouts, pointing at me and guffawing with his friends. "That was hilarious!"
I glare at him, and the laughter quickly dies down.
"Shut up, dude!" Amelia says, but I can feel my temper bubbling beneath the surface.
The game ends with Anderson High declared the winner, but instead of basking in the glory, I find myself nursing a headache and a bruised ego.
At least the football didn't slice my head open, though it feels like I have a thumb-sized tumor on my forehead now.
"We need to get that treated before we head to the victory party," Amelia insists, but I shake my head.
"Party? You really think I'm going to show up looking like this? No way," I reply, starting to walk to my car.
"Okay, okay. Let me drive you to the hospital first," Amelia says, and I nod in agreement. I hand her my keys, and we climb into the car.
After two hours, my "tumor" has been treated, and I just want to collapse into bed. But Amelia is relentless, begging me to join her at Logan's victory party.
"I don't want to go! I have nothing to wear, and I'm exhausted!" I complain, dragging her toward the parking lot as she tugs at my shirt.
"Come on! If I go, will you stop being such a baby?" she asks, desperation in her voice.
"Fine! Ten minutes, and then we're out of there," I agree, and she squeals with delight.
***
We head home to get ready for the party. I feel like I've been hit by a hurricane, but Amelia works her magic, curling my hair and helping me cover up the injury. I must admit, she's like a beauty guru straight out of a YouTube tutorial.
As we approach Logan's house, the music booms from inside, a loud bass that makes my heart race. "How did you know where the party was?" I ask Amelia.
"I've been here before," she replies, but I'm too focused on the vibrant scene before me.
"Wait, you've been here before?"
"No time for stories! Let's party!" she exclaims, pulling me toward the front door.
Inside, the living room is packed with teens dancing, drinking, and mingling. It feels overwhelming.
"Wow! I can't believe you made it!" Logan calls from behind me, a red cup in hand, his smile wide against the backdrop of pulsing music and flashing lights. I turn to face him, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves that always accompanies his attention.
"Yeah, it's been a day, but I wouldn't miss it!" I shout back, trying to match his enthusiasm over the loud bass. I scan the room for Amelia, but she seems to have disappeared into the crowd. Just moments ago, I was filled with excitement at the thought of the party, but now I feel a sense of unease creeping in.
Logan steps closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "You look great! I can't believe you survived the football hit. You're tougher than I thought!"
"Ha! It wasn't exactly my idea of a fun day," I laugh, though it's a bit forced. "Just a typical Friday, right?" I motion around, trying to shake off the uncomfortable weight of my earlier encounter.
"Yeah, typical," he agrees, but there's a twinkle in his eye that suggests he's teasing. "So, are you ready to celebrate the victory? I heard Cayden got two touchdowns tonight!"
"Definitely! I'm just trying to find Amelia first," I say, glancing over my shoulder again, hoping to catch a glimpse of my friend in the sea of bodies. "I'll be right back!"
"Alright!" he replied, still grinning.
I made my way to the kitchen, scanning the crowd for Amelia but finding no sign of her. I headed over to the counter to grab a drink when someone stepped in front of me, reaching for the same cup I was about to take.
"Want me to pour you a drink?" a person asked, a tipsy smile on his face. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him.
"Uh, sure?" I replied, a bit uncertain. "I'll just have a soda, please."
He raised an eyebrow, his cheeks flushed. "You don't drink?"
"I do! Just water, juice, and soda," I said, following him as he stumbled toward the fridge. He chuckled, and I frowned, wondering what was so funny.
"What I actually meant was, you don't drink alcohol?" he clarified, pouring soda into a cup. He handed it to me, and I took it, thanking him.
"No, but thanks. I think I'll stick with this," I replied. "I need to find my friend." As I turned to leave, he caught my wrist, stopping me.
"I wasn't done talking to you," he said, leaning in closer and placing a hand on my waist. "Why do girls like you always play so hard to get?"
I felt a wave of discomfort. "Let go of me!" I said, trying to pull away, but he tightened his grip. In a moment of panic, I tossed my drink at him, the soda splattering over his shirt.
"What the hell?" he exclaimed, looking down at his soaked clothes. A few people nearby turned to watch, and I could feel my heart racing.
He stepped closer, grabbing my face roughly. "I'd save you for later, but right now, I want to taste you," he said, his breath hot against my skin.
"Please, stop!" I pleaded, trying to push his hand away.
Then, out of nowhere, I saw a fist fly and connect with his jaw. He stumbled back, landing on the floor in shock. My heart raced as I registered what had just happened, and then I looked up to see who had intervenedâCayden.
***
another edited version.
I am sorry. I had been very busy studying for the exams and there was so much to do in school and I couldn't find some spare time at home because I was busy doing my papers and powerpoints for our research subject.
anyways, carry on and happy reading!
-The Author