Heather

CHAPTER ONE; King Of The Road

His eyes were a sharp piercing cobalt blue. His hair shone and restless in the autumn sun, and his jersey gleamed as he neared the spotlight. His time was here again, in full swing. Lights, laurels, action.

For Darrel, school was an empire. A place where lords like him made the rules, and everybody who was a nobody followed them.

Everything was under his belt; respect, admiration, and intense fear- he called the shots. Everybody knew him, and the fact had always been and still remained that Darrel Jeremy Lawson was the best; on top of the world.

As the crowd cheered, his team mates rushed ahead of him - their names being mentioned one after the other. With the ball underneath one arm, he took a small breath and jogged onto the field, grinning smugly as the crowd went wild.

He paused near the stands, where banners of love and giggling girls crowded round. He took off his captain's band - the twelfth one they'd given him this season, and tossed it into the crowd.

Immediately, desperate screams of joy rang through the stadium as admiring teen girls scrambled for a feel of 'The Band Of Gold'. Darrel didn't look for it. He knew where it was headed already. With a satisfied smirk, he dashed to his team mates as the game began.

Facing the opponent, he bent to lace his shoe and stood up, towering above him. He saw beads of sweat trickle down. Poor guy. The whistle wasn't off yet and he was shaking hard. Darrel didn't blame him. At the moment the whistle blew, his hands were on the ball and he headed for the basket, pushing the ball with him as he dodged frustrated Bluecrests.

He aimed it right as he always did and let it fly off his fingers without much effort.

SMACK!

The ball came bouncing back in defeat and a throw was awarded to the Bluecrest. Darrel raised an eyebrow, seeking the blocker.

When his eyes met the sneering dark ones of Mark Tunnelo, he clenched his fist.

The season before, the Redtrailers had won as usual, and kicked the Bluecrests out. There was only one problem. They won by five points to one and that hurt his pride. The one who made that basket had been none other than this annoying freak.

No one beat Darrel. They didn't even come close to daring .

He watched as Mark bounced the ball around a little too comfortably to be prepared for his attack.

In a flash , the ball was his again and he stormed the court with new determination . the crowd screaming his name, he dunked with greater force smashing it in the net. Darrel turned to smile at Mark, waving to him.

The chant began, and he knew he'd maintained his record. Being a star player, he always scored in the first ten minutes.

He wondered where his band would be, but shrugged it off, knowing he still had a game to win. After an hour of tossing and scoring, they won with ten points to none.

Content, Darrel walked over to Mark and whispered, "Better luck in the next world, Champ" before reveling in the victory of the day with his mates.

He finally turned to check on his Captain's band and found it dangling over a very unimpressed Eleanor. She looked as usual, her rosy red hair tied up in a pony-tail and trailing down her neck in thick bouncy curls.

She wrinkled her narrow nose slightly, mouthing a "Not on your life" to him and dropped it carelessly, turning to leave the stadium with her little minions.

Darrel smiled as he felt Evan, his best friend, pat him on the back. "Better luck with Miss Priss next time," he said, snickering.

"Go burn the sea, Ev," he shot back with a groan.

One day, the guy would get the girl. He always did. Eventually. Even if his best friend was a special case.

"Uh, Darrel Jeremy Lawson?," a high pitched voice cried out from behind. He turned, slowly.

"I just wanted to tell you how much I loved your game today!," she screamed, delighted at hiving his attention. She was extremely scrawny with an over done face, distressed jeans which looked like they were begging for mercy and a short tank top.

"Thanks," he replied gruffly, turning to retreat to safety. Too late, she burst into an awful rendition of 'We are the Champions' before his ears could make it to the range of safety.

"Darrrrrrrrrell's the chimpeown ma frendzzz!",

"Mona!," a voice yelled frantically as Darrell's friends exploded in fits of laughter. Darrel watched, amused, as Mark had to literally drag the bewitched girl back to the Bluecrest stands.

****************
On Monday, after a million different versions of "Congratulations Darrel," and ten thousand more looks of admirations, he took a cool appraisal from the principal and missed getting detention for his 'other' businesses.

In the cafeteria, he backed up with his boys at their usual spot they called the TT- Throne Turf, and laughed and talked a good deal (while he secretely kept a look out for signs of Eleanor).

Grinning at something Evan said, he felt a sense of contentment wash over him and passed a finger slowly over the crown shape at the heel of his boot.

Truth of the matter was, Darrel Jeremy Lawson was the king of the road, and he loved it.

A/N.
I dedicate this book to God the father almighty and pray He uses it for the mission he has sent me on.

Thanks to Daniel (little bro) and Princess for prodding and pushing me. Love you guys!... sometimes (cheeky grin)