Twelve Nights

Chapter Two: Kristen Lake High School, Home of the Sharks

The pictures of these football players in the next upcoming chapters are not the characters. They are here to show what each school's football uniform looks like. They are also not my photos. Google Images has been a great friend in helping me with the task of getting visuals for my story. Again, you may picture the uniforms in a completely different way and that's what being imaginative is all about!

If you wish to see the snazzy quarterback of this chapter (Adriel Lockhart) before reading, skip to the end. 

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Two: Kristen Lake High School, Home of the Sharks

Classical music was playing quietly and a cluster of couples had gathered and started dancing on the makeshift dance floor in my living room. The sound of women's dresses swaying back and forth and the low murmur of chatter was all that could be heard over the music. Every once in a while, I heard the clatter of glasses and someone making a random toast about something I couldn't give two shits about.

This one guy made a toast about how the company was going to be in good hands and everyone threw a glance at me and rose their glasses to the toast. I mean it was cool to have a toast made about me, but I didn't know who the guy was at all and quite frankly, I didn't give a shit about that either.

Donned in a long red dress that I had to constantly keep holding when I walked and very uncomfortable six inch black heels, I stood awkwardly in the corner of my own living room. My hair was pulled up into an elegant bun, thanks to my mother. My parents decided to ignore Curson's and I's plans and make us go to the stupid dinner party. I, of course, did not come willingly because of Jonathan and I was actually kind of excited to steal my first jersey, but Curson didn't need to know that. There was no sign of Jonathan yet, thank God. My parents kept coming up with people and introducing them to me, but I didn't remember any of their names. Oops.

"Hello Olive." The devil himself greeted as he stood before me. "Enjoying the party?" He sipped on what looked like white wine. I wish my mother would let me have some. It would definitely take the pain away from the headache I had right now. "No." Was my simple reply. This better not become a thing. I hated dinner parties even more than I hated high school parties. Something about big gatherings always made me nervous. Was I allergic to people, or just claustrophobic? I think I'm allergic to people. That would explain why I sneezed everytime Jonathan was near me. His cologne was also way too strong. It smelled like burnt baby powder.

How I came up with that comparison? Simple. When I was younger, Curson thought it would be hilarious to set baby powder on fire in our neighbor's backyard. After we spread it all over his yard, we took my father's matches and threw one on the ground. Who would have guessed baby powder would burn so quickly? We couldn't go outside for two weeks because the smell was that bad.

It was getting near 5:00, which meant I would have been standing in this God forsaken corner of my living room by myself with only the company of my own thoughts for an hour. I would have talked to Curson, but he was ushered away by my father as soon as we descended the stairs to go and talk to some of his friends about The Thunder Bowl. It also was one step closer to 5:30 and that meant I had to meet Curson in his room so we could leave and go steal my first jersey.

Curson explained that all practices would be going on until 8 o'clock because of the much needed preparation for The Thunder Bowl. According to him, that was one of the major rules for entering the event. There also had to be an official at each practice to make sure the rules were followed and that the team had reached the correct number of practice hours.

8 o'clock in my mind was code for it's time to eat and watch TV before retiring for the day to my lovely queen sized bed that I hated to part with every morning. Jonathan had been trying to catch my attention for the past five minutes and I successfully avoided him, until he started waving his hands in my face.