Chapter Thrity-Eight

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Flynn

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Flynn

I have arrived. The people chants while drums where bashed.

"Defense!" the crowd yelled with unity as the drums followed with a beat of 2 slow intervals before 3 quick ones.

As I got inside, the gym was filled with students wearing either scarlet red or mint blue. Pom poms, inflatable, or even towels where waved in the sky to show support for their teams.

The ball bounces while a horn blows.

The crowd began chanting a certain name that was deafening as screech from girls meddled with the chant.

"Elijah King!" they clapped in an interval. "Elijah King!"

The time was still a lot with the game at 3rd quarter. At the very top of gate 2, I stand alone along the fences above the stands where the crowd sits.

"Flynn? Is that Flynn Lumpwood?" a fan from the crowd gossips. I pushed my cap even more to make a low-key profile in public for today.

I can't be seen by people in here especially after my sudden absence yesterday. We still don't know what person will show up in any minute.

The crowd screamed as one from the hornets managed to drain a three.

From the scoreboard, the hornets were in favor, 38-33, yet the bulldogs doesn't let that lead to expand even more with the help of Jeff Smith, my good friend and Elijah King — an opposite. Let's just leave him as a past foe.

The buzzer sounded, indicating the end of the quarter. One more, the game will finally declared its winner.

The players gets off the court and headed to their separate benches to rest and create another plan to take advantage.

Although, as my eyes follows the bulldogs' players, my eyes widens when a familiar face caught my attention.

Grace was here, alongside no one but herself.

Although it's kinda weird to say but he looks out of herself.

Unlike the fans, she's neither cheering or screeching. Her stance sitting on his seat was nothing but from the unusual. I can't help but notices her eyes, not blinking for even a single bit while she won't budge even if a fly buzzes around her vision.

To sum up — she's just — there.

Staring and watching strangely at the players, especially the bulldogs' bench. He doesn't even like the bulldogs, or even fond of basketball.

What's with you, Grace?

You never spoke about basketball in our short time together. All you speak was football and nothing else.

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