Prom, exams, turning your longtime crush into a zombie... life's tough when you're a teenage necromancer.
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Willow has had a crush on Jensen Peters FOREVER. And with prom days away Jensen seems to be finally feeling the same... then a terrible acc...
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"Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten my phone," Mia's stilted voice raises above the grunts and yells coming from the sports field beside us. She comes to a grinding halt in the middle of the path, twisting and turning dramatically to rummage through her pockets. I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest, rooting my feet to the ground. A soft curtain of rain is coating my skin and no doubt turning my hair into a dark cloud of fuzz. She glances my way, her lips quivering as she battles against a smile.
"Are you serious? We are not going back again?"
"What? I just forgot..."
"That's the third thing we've had to go back and get. Come on, I'm wet and hungry and we'd normally be home by now. Mia?"
"Willow."
"You have been acting so weird today," I grumble. "How was your imaginary exam, by the way?"
"I got my days mixed up. It happens."
She's snorting now, holding back the laughter that's making her petite frame shake. She's up to something, that much is obvious and I'm pretty certain it involves a certain football captain... I give her my filthiest look and keep walking, fighting a smirk as I do. The path out of school runs alongside the sports fields, giving us the perfect view of the football team's match. If we were so inclined to watch. I can't think of anything worse than watching football - the perplexing rules, the pop songs mutilated into chants and the probability of a ball flying into my face. The image of Jensen in his football kit is only just enough to make me consider it and even then I'm certain I'd spend the entire ninety minutes staring at his legs. I glance to my side, spotting him as he glides across the field, hair damp and slicked back. His wet kit clinging to his lean, athletic body. He passes the ball to Henry, who kicks it down the field with impressive speed.
"You know, he's actually really cute." Mia nudges me. "It's all in the proportions. And he has it."
"Has what?" I tear my eyes away from the game and peer at Mia. Other students stream past us, heading towards the exit gates.
"You know, the right shoulder to height ratio? It's crucial. Short with broad shoulders can make them look stumpy. Tall with narrow shoulders and they look gawky. Henry has a perfectly portioned shoulder to height ratio."
I giggle and shake my head, though as I turn, catching him running up the field, I can see it. When out of his scruffy cardigans, the shape of his body is clear. And his face is serious but soft, so different from the scowl I'm usually greeted to in geography.
"That is not a thing. You seriously make this stuff up."
"It's a fact. Don't pretend you haven't noticed." I give her a look that makes her burst out laughing, her curls bouncing around her jaw.
The shriek of the whistle breaks up our laughter. The football stops and players shuffle away to the sides of the field. Huddled together, Jensen and Henry tug off their filth-coated boots.
