Page 146 of Twisted Ties

I rub my fingers together, damp with anticipation and try to block out all the sound, all the stimulation from my mind. But I can’t help scanning the stands. I already know she’s not here. I’d feel it deep in my gut if she were. I look anyway, spying her roommate, her dark hair tied around her head, her cheeks painted the same color as my jersey. No Pig Girl.

I shouldn’t be surprised. When has she ever done what she’s supposed to do? Coming to this match is unofficially mandatory. No one misses it. No one wants to. Everybody wants to see us compete against the Aropia fuckers. For us to show them who’s best.

Not her.

I roll my shoulders, jumping up and down on the spot. Waking up my body.

I need to focus, concentrate. This is my moment to shine. The one where I get to show all the world just how fucking good Spencer Moreau is. Better than them. Not something to be sneered at, disgusted, reviled. I may be different, but I am also superior.

“Are you ready to grind these fuckers into the dust?” Dan says, whacking his hand against my shoulder, his eyes wild with adrenaline.

“Fuck, yes,” I grunt.

The day is clear, the wind light, and I can smell the grass and the dirt in my nose. I am more than ready.

The other team emerges from the tunnel, dressed in a golden kit that glistens in the sunlight. Idiots. It will make it ten times easier to spot them and blast them out of thegame. They’re all tall, well-built like us, the same determined glint in their eyes. I keep my eyes on their captain. He’s been their champion for several years now. He alone took out five members of our team last time we met. But I wasn’t a senior back then. I was on the bench more often than the field.

This time things will be different.

The referee beckons me over and his words float through my head unheard. Then I’m shaking the other captain’s hand, both our grips so freaking tight, we might snap bones. I look him hard in the eyes, noticing their peculiar green color and the freckles across the bridge of his nose, a nose I can see has been broken and repaired numerous times.

As I stroll back into my own half, taking my position, my teammates around me, the stadium falls quiet, five hundred breaths held. Then the whistle pierces the silence. For a moment no one moves and my heart clatters against my rib cage.

Then the opposing captain raises his hands and his team mates scatter across the field. I smile. I am ready for this, fucking ready for it.

Magic flashes around me, multiple colors. It hisses and crackles, booms and whines. I’m oblivious to it all, eyes still fixed on that captain as I begin to move towards him, deflecting magic, swerving attacks, as I move across the field. I’m too quick for them all and on my path I toss one opponent straight over my shoulder. As he hits the ground, his uniform fades a dull gray. He’s out of the match and our score just jumped 50 points. Another kid I hit mid-chest as he rises in front of me and he stumbles to the ground. Another 50.

My shoulders loosen, my heart beats more steadily. Isettle into my stride, beginning to enjoy the match, especially when the crowd starts chanting my name.

I’m dueling some of the best I ever have, when I feel it. The moment she steps into the stadium. I feel it in my core. A sharp tug. If I turn my head, she’ll be there somewhere in the crowd. She’s already missed the first quarter, missed me take out three of their players and dodge a combined attack aimed right at me.

She missed all that, but now she’s here.

And I have a desire to impress her. To show that I am the best.

I focus my eyes on that captain and sprint as fast as I can. He hears me coming, spinning around to face me. Our eyes lock again. The other players freeze around us. They know it’s between the two of us now.

The captain sweeps his arms in circles in front of his body and a tornado of magic blasts my way. I knock half of it away with my own magic and battle through the rest, the force of it making my eyes stream and my hair whip backwards.

I fire magic of my own at him and he grins ducking and diving it all. I curse, determined to get closer. Like Tristan, his magic is good. But one on one, physically, he doesn’t stand a chance. He must know it, because next he slices his hands through the air and arrows of magic litter down on me like rain. I shield myself, gritting my teeth against the few that make it through and hit my skin.

I’m gaining on him. He glances over his shoulder as if he’s debating whether to retreat. But Dan and Tristan are right there, blocking his way and his teammates have been too complacent to protect their captain.

We fire magic at each other. It explodes as it collides, lighting up the stadium in a boom of color. Then I’mcrashing through, my hands grabbing at his shirt. I land a punch to his gut, and the gold of his kit flickers. I hit him again, just for good measure as he attempts to zap me with his magic, and then I lift the fucker above my head and throw him to the ground. His uniform fades to gray. He’s out.

The stadium erupts. They chant my name. My teammates rush towards me, high-fiving me, slapping me on the shoulder, hugging me.

The atmosphere is electric and my magic feeds off it, fizzes in my veins.

I spin around, arms raised, soaking up the adoration. Everyone is cheering, worshiping me.

Everyone but her.

She stares at me from her seat, her eyes connecting with mine like an electrical current, the sensation in my body tugging hard.

Fuck her.

Fuck her.