There’s ten crucial minutes of the game left. The crowd is screaming at the top of their lungs, becoming impatient in their seats as they grow desperate for a win. Coach Spears has resulted in pacing up and down the sidelines, chewing on his nails nervously. The football team are red-faced, exhausted and slowly losing hope.
So far Heywood High are losing by two points.
I’ve refilled the water bottles countless times. I’ve been tripped up, barged into and knocked sideways. I’ve been ignored, screamed at and told to get off the pitch by several football players.
“Watch out asshole!” Dylan yells angrily, shoving one of his team mates as they barge straight into my shoulder. I’m knocked to the floor, landing in a heap. Dylan mumbles unhappily before walking over to me.
“Are you okay Bella?”
He holds out his hand for me take. The pain in my shoulder increases but I nod numbly, bobbing my head up and down. I’m almost close to tears and I want to go home and dive under the safety and security of my blankets.
I hold my arm out to take hold of Dylan’s hand because I’m pretty sure I have a mud stain smeared over my backside and I need to clean myself up. Just as I’m about to take hold of his hand, Brody jogs up to us. His cheeks are tinged red and he exhales out deeply, focusing on his breathing. As he approaches me, his eyes fall on Dylan’s outstretched hand and he frowns. The green in his eyes darken as he comes to a stop.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
He doesn’t sound out of breath at all anymore. I have no idea how the boy does it. He’s been running non stop at high speed for an hour. If that was me, I’d be six feet under by now. . .
Brody briefly glances down at me whilst I’m still on the floor, my dignity lying right beside me. I feel the blush on my cheeks darken and I let out a groan of frustration in my head. The pain in my shoulder dies down into a slow throb but remains painful to touch.
Frickin’ football players and their inhuman strength.
“Dylan, Coach wants you.” Brody says bluntly, barely making eye contact with him as he speaks. I watch as Dylan turns around, a slight frown on his face from the sudden instruction.
“What for?” He asks Brody, dropping his hand back down to his side.
“I don’t know, we only have ten minutes left. A team talk or something.” Brody mumbles, taking his towel and wiping his forehead with it. Dylan pauses before shrugging and jogging off, forgetting about me completely.
I clear my throat and decide to stay on the floor, shuffling backwards so my back connects with the fence. A look of discomfort flashes across my face and I sigh, hoping I’m out of the way of any other charging players.
“What did he do?” Brody asks, standing directly in front of me. His eyes are staring straight at me, dark hair glistening with sweat. His chest rises and falls and he waits for my response.
“Dylan didn’t do anything. I was knocked over.” I explain, rubbing my aching shoulder. Brody’s frown deepens and he curses under his breath. I watch as he leans down beside me, his hand reaching out. I inhale sharply as I feel his fingers brush against the bare skin on my neck just above my shoulder.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He murmurs, green eyes connecting with mine. For a split second, time stands still and I’m lost inside the mesmerising swirls of his eyes. I don’t realise he’s asked me a question but Brody doesn’t once break eye contact or even blink. Eventually I let out the breath I’m holding, my stomach a bag of tangled nerves.
“I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt much anymore.” I whisper, my eyes dropping to the floor. Brody slowly moves my shirt to expose my shoulder and I breathe in sharply. His eyes flicker between both of mine and he gestures towards it.
“Can I check it out?” He asks me and I nod, biting down on my lower lip to stop myself from saying anything embarrassing. Brody’s hand begins to gently apply pressure on my shoulder and I close my eyes, trying hard to ignore the electricity cursing through my blood.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt? You’re really quiet,” Brody asks me, watching me warily. I nod again, unable to speak or form any words. My brain is clouded over by his touch and I couldn’t form a straight sentence if I tried. Eventually he pulls back, satisfied that I’m not seriously hurt. He gives me a soft smile, his body ridiculously close to mine.
“I have to go Bella,” He says with a small sigh, glancing over his shoulder. I nod again, giving him a reassuring smile in return. When I look around, I realise that eyes are watching us closely from the crowd. Some people are whispering and I realise that Brody looks close, really close.
“Go, they’re waiting for you.” I tell him quickly. He nods and doesn’t notice the panic flash through my eyes. Instead he gives me a cute lopsided smile before jogging away. I blow out another deep breath and keep my eyes trained to the floor. I don’t know how much people saw happen between Brody and I but I silently pray that nobody begins to grow suspicious. I can’t begin to imagine the kind of attention I’d receive if people knew what was happening.
A few minutes pass and the crowd begins to cheer wildly as the last ten minutes of the game starts. The noise begins to blur around me and I close my eyes, resting my head on my knees. My heartbeat is still thumping against my chest and I can feel the sweat sliding down my palms. The panicked feeling inside my chest from being in the limelight begins to gradually decrease. It becomes easier to breathe but I can’t believe my body reacts like that from having a handful of people look at me.
Why can’t I be confident? Why can’t I not care when people stare at me or care what people think of me?
The negative voice in the back of my head answers my questions —
Because you’re Bella Winters.
You’ve spent your entire life working hard on keeping hidden in the shadows.
“Bella!”
I vaguely hear someone scream my name over and over again and I lift my head, frowning. My eyes scan the crowd looking for the source of the voice and eventually I connect eyes with Brody. He’s running towards me from the opposite end of the field, pointing in another direction. His voice travels through the air, urgent and demanding.
“Bella! Watch out!” Brody yells, his hand gesturing towards something in the opposite direction. The frown on my face deepens but I turn, looking for whatever he’s pointing at. My eyes widen and my heart stops inside my chest.
Everything happens in slow motion.
The ball is hurtling through the air in full speed, aimed directly for my face. I let out a strangled scream, my body frozen in place from the sudden shock. I don’t have time to move out of its path.
“Bella! Block the ball!” Brody yells at me. His words are the last thing I hear before I feel a heavy blow to the side of my head, knocking me completely unconscious.