Page 39

Rachel

I t’s been almost three weeks since that fateful day. My new family came together to show me exactly what I’ve been missing all these years, and I honestly don’t think I would be where I am today without them. My father tried to break me. With Trent’s help he almost did. But my real family wouldn’t let that happen.

Anytime I felt scared or would start to slip back into the memory of that day, someone was there to pull me out. The day I spent shopping with Helene and the girls was cathartic and when we got back I went home to a whole new place, a fresh start. With Bas following through and getting us a ridiculously large bed, more often than not I’m in the center of all of them as we sleep. Thankfully Derrick's dream abilities have done a great job at keeping the nightmares at bay.

When I’m awake, the girls join in on the mission to keep the memories away. Between them and my mates I never go more than a class period without someone by my side, and that's only twice a week for one class.

They’re the only reason I feel confident going into finals today. All of my professors assured me I could take the exams late considering my circumstances, but I refused. I don’t want special treatment. Besides, school has been a welcome distraction and my guys have come up with some delicious incentives for me to complete all my work.

All of my mates insist on walking me to my first class, knowing how stressed I am about presenting my final rebrand project. Despite knowing it’ll make Bas and Liam late to class, I don’t protest. I feel stronger when we’re all together and today I could use the added strength they give me through the bond.

“You’re gonna do great, Firefly,” Bas assures me with a smile. “I saw your designs, remember? You’re gonna hit it out of the park.” He winks and I giggle at the baseball reference, the jitters easing slightly.

“You go knock Stone’s socks off, Shadow Girl. I’ll be here when you’re done to walk you to Film Studies.”

I haven’t walked anywhere by myself since that night. I know Trent’s not a threat to me anymore, that I’m safe. But it makes all of us feel better when someones’ with me. The guys even begrudgingly agree the girls are suitable chaperones if one of them isn’t available. I smile at the memory of that argument.

I think we might have had another kidnapping on our hands if they didn’t give in to Dallas’s demands.

I kiss each of my mates goodbye and they offer me words of encouragement before I walk into Visual Arts alone, leaving them in the hall. I smooth the front of my jeans and adjust the collar of my emerald-trimmed top, willing myself to look as confident as I want to feel.

I can do this.

Pushing open the door to the classroom a sense of familiarity washes over me. Without Trent this class has turned into one of my favorites, I pretty much love every class I have with Professor Stone. Most of my classmates are already in their seats, some flipping through note cards while others are frantically typing away on their laptops making last minute edits. I take my seat just as Professor Stone enters the room.

He crosses to his desk, setting his bag down and organizing a few papers, before shuffling over to the podium to begin.

“Hello class,” he starts, drawing an instant silence. “Today we will be presenting our final projects. You each have already submitted your full proposals to me and now you will have five minutes to present your pitch to the class. After all of the pitches have been heard we will have an anonymous vote on which presentation was our favorite. I will have your grade for you at that time and you will be officially finished with your first class of the semester. Good luck everyone.”

Professor Stone calls the first name from his list and one of the girls in the back row nervously takes his place. The cycle repeats, each student giving their presentation then taking their seat before the next name is called. A few have impressive designs, others clearly phoned it in, but eventually it’s my turn.

When he calls my name I rise and take my place behind the podium. I connect my laptop to the projector and the screen flares to life behind me with my title slide.

“Eldergrove Renewed: Embracing tomorrow while honoring tradition.”

I don’t read from a script, I don’t need to.

“What started as just a class assignment,” I say voice steady, “quickly became personal when I realized the passion our players have for their sport. Our players represent our school with pride and our logos and uniforms should as well.”

Clicking to the next slide I reveal my version of the updated logo. It’s still simple and elegant but the stag is a bit more stylized, his antlers forming the letters EA over his head. Wisps of magical shimmers enhance but don’t overwhelm and of course our school colors of Emerald Green and Navy Blue are well represented. I recite my rehearsed lines before clicking through a few more slides outlining the new uniforms and touching on the graphics I designed for the welcome brochure. Another click and Stanley appears.

My version stands tall and proud, still instantly recognizable but with more muscles and a lot more charm. The class chuckles at the side by side comparison between Old Stan and New Stanley. I keep moving through my presentation showing off my new designs and finish up just as the timer goes off announcing the end of my five minutes. I gather up my things and make my way back to my seat.

When I sit down Professor Stone catches my eye and shoots me a thumbs up and a wink. I feel the heat in my cheeks but a warm sense of pride fills my chest. I did good and regardless of the grade I receive I’m proud of myself for even being here today.

After the final pitch is complete we all cast our anonymous vote for class favorite. When we drop our ballot in the box Professor Stone passes us an envelope containing our final grade. The room is tense with anticipation as one by one we all reveal our fate. I hold my breath as I pull open my envelope and take out the folded piece of paper.

Unfolding it I see a fully filled in grading rubric which I will go over later but right now I can’t peel my eyes away the giant red A staring at me from the top of the page.

I passed.

I didn’t just pass, I got an A. My guys must feel my emotions in the bond because suddenly I’m flooded with a return of pride, excitement, and something that feels oddly like Bas saying ‘I told you so’.

Professor Stone takes his place behind the podium again and clears his throat drawing my attention. “I have counted up the votes and I am proud to announce that by nearly unanimous numbers Rachel St. James has the favorite design of the class. Miss St. James,” he turns to me now, “be expecting a call from the marketing department sometime next week. I assume they will be putting some of this to immediate use.”

I’m shocked and absolutely speechless but the smile on my face is so big it hurts my cheeks.

I’m still smiling when I meet Liam in the hall. He lifts his brow and holds his hand out for mine.

“Good class?”

“I nailed it!” I say, still grinning like a fool. “I got an A and the class voted for my presentation as the best and Professor Stone said the marketing team is going to put some of it to use immediately whatever that means. I just can’t believe I’m here and I’m with you, all of you. I never would have imagined this is where I would be, not even three months after finally getting out from under my father’s roof.”

Liam grins and pulls me into a hug. “You’re incredible, Shadow Girl. But we already knew that.”

He releases me from the hug but doesn’t let go of my hand as we make our way to Film Studies. Aubree and Maya catch up with us just as we exit the building.

“Sooo…” Maya asks impatiently.

“She crushed it,” Liam replies proudly. “Got an A, won the class vote, and the school’s probably going to use her designs.”

Aubree squeals. “Yes! I told you New Stanley was swoon-worthy. Good job, babe!”

“I’m not sure swoon-worthy was the goal, but hey, if it works,” I say with a shrug.

“Are you kidding? If that mascot was in the stadium, I might actually start showing up to games,” Aubree insists.

“As if you’d ever pass up a chance to watch boy butts in baseball pants… or football pants… or hockey uniforms,” Maya sasses at her, and we all crack up because she’s not wrong.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I finish my Film Studies final in half the time provided and then kick Bas’s butt in self defence earning a pass for that class as well. The guys leave for the stadium as soon as they’re done with their last exam of the day, leaving me to have girl time at my old dorm before the game.

“Mama Ashford left this for you,” Dallas says with a smile, handing me a garment bag.

“Go on, open it!” Aubree prods.

Taking the bag off the hanger, I open it and find my jersey. I mean… my design. How did she do it? But that’s not even the best part. No, that clever woman made me the perfect jersey. All season, I’ve been switching off the guys’ jerseys trying my damndest to be fair and represent each of my guys. Thanks to Mama Ashford, I don’t have to do that anymore.

The jersey is perfect.

Sleek black fabric, trimmed in emerald green and stitched with a shimmering navy thread. Across the chest in bold letters is our school name and just below it is the new team logo I designed. But the back is what chokes me up. Instead of just one number it is divided into four equal parts each representing one of my guys and across the top it reads ‘Rachel’s Guys’. I hug the jersey to my chest and attempt not to cry.

Mama Ashford did good. When I look up to tell the girls as much, they add to the surprise, each of them holding a tshirt with my new design on it.

“I’m speechless,” I whisper. “Absolutely stunned. Seriously… how did she, how did you all?”

“We have our ways.” Maya winks, bumping her shoulder into mine. “Aubree got your files and sent them to her and Mama Ashford has a contact apparently because it only took like two days and they were here.”

“I cried when mine got delivered,” Dallas says, clutching hers dramatically to her chest. “And then immediately demanded one in every color.”

“You’re not even dating one of them,” I tease, a watery laugh bubbling up.

“Doesn’t matter,” she grins. “You’re our bestie so if they are mated to you they are practically dating us as well… pack-adjacent counts, right?”

“Pack-adjacent,” Aubree repeats, snorting.

“You guys…” My voice breaks again. “I love you all so much! How did I get so lucky to have you three for best friends?”

“Fate, obviously,” Dallas replies with a wave of her hand, like it’s obvious.

“Or maybe you just deserved some people in your corner for once,” Maya says, softer now, her smile a little misty.

“Or maybe we all just manifested this,” Aubree adds, flipping her platinum hair over her shoulder. “I mean, name a better friend group than us?”

That earns a laugh from all of us, and I soak in the moment of joy.

“I should get dressed,” I say, still smiling. “I want to look perfect for their first tournament game.”

Aubree does a little hop and claps her hands. “Go team glam!”

We pile into the bathroom between my old room and Maya’s with makeup bags, face paint, glitter, and zero chill. Once we are all dressed and matching in our Nightclaw pride, we take a few obligatory pre-game selfies.

“Okay,” Aubree says, fingers flying across her phone screen as she posts our picture to all her socials. “Time to go cheer on Rachel’s guys and look hot doing it.”

“Bonus points if we make the rival team cry with envy,” Dallas adds grinning like she means it.

I nod, anxious excitement buzzing through me. “Let’s go.”

We arrive at a stadium buzzing with energy, the sun dipping toward the horizon and casting a golden light over the enchanted stone facade. An excited chatter fills the air as students and families begin filtering in. Some sport emerald and navy in support of our team and others are in purple and silver, supporting the Arcane Ridge Ravens.

But the moment we step past the entry gates, I stop cold.

The banner stretched across the entrance arch of the stadium catches the light, stealing my breath.

It’s mine.

My logo. My stag. Proud, bold. The green and navy colors shimmer, glowing just faintly, like the moonlight on a lake. Underneath it in stylized script reads:

Welcome to Eldergrove Stadium – Home of the Nightclaws.

“Oh,” I breathe.

Maya grabs my hand. “It’s your design.”

“Wow they meant it when they said immediately,” Aubree says, beaming. “They obviously really loved it.”

Dallas whistles low. “It's perfect.”

Pride fills my chest like wildfire.

“I think I might cry again,” I whisper, eyes stinging.

“Do it,” Aubree dares. “We’ll cry with you. It’ll be hot and emotionally vulnerable, someone will probably take a photo and caption it ‘powerful women support each other.’”

I laugh through the threat of tears, squeezing their hands. And then we walk inside, ready to take our seats and cheer on my guys.

We walk through the stadium together, making our way toward where Helene and Demi wait for us in the VIP box. The moment they see me, Helene pulls me into a warm hug filled with maternal pride.

“You did this,” she whispers, motioning to the changes in the stadium. “This is your mark on this place and it is absolutely stunning.”

“She’s right,” Demi adds, the pride shining in his eyes is becoming a regular thing and it feels good to have parental love for the first time in my life. “The marketing team asked me to pass along their thanks. Apparently the stadium has rejected all their proposals so far but when they presented yours, it adopted the designs immediately.”

“Wait,” I say, shocked by his revelation. “What do you mean they presented it to the stadium?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” His amused grin keeps me from feeling dumb for not knowing. “The stadium was the first enchanted building on campus. And the enchantment took so well that the building is… for lack of a better word… sentient. Just like Harold Hall. It’s how the rooms, or the field in the case of the stadium, change to accommodate the needs of the users.”

“So… the stadium chose my design?” I blink up at him in awe.

“Instantly.” Demi nods. “Lit up like a mate bond.”

Helene snorts at his assessment. “The banners unfurled themselves with gusto. It was very dramatic.”

I sit down hard in the nearest seat, my jersey creasing as I clutch the fabric to my chest. I can’t stop staring at the view below. Every detail is pulled from my mockups. I didn’t just get an A and a pat on the back.

I changed something.

Made something real.

Emotion wells up again, too big for words. I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the stadium from our vantage point, then open the group chat.

ME: SHUT UP! Can you guys believe it?!? The stadium chose my design. The stadium! Did you know the stadium is sentient?

Bas responds instantly.

Bas: Damn right it’s yours. I told you your designs were amazing, Firefly. Just wait until you see what we’re wearing.

I frown.

Wait… what?

Before I can question it, Helene offers me a drink. I get sucked into conversation as Dallas and Aubree plot how we can chant louder than the Arcane Ridge fan section. Maya suggests starting a wave in the crowd making Aubree and Dallas double down with increasingly crazy plans. Before I know it, Demi directs our attention to the field as my guys enter from the dugout.

My jaw drops.