La Douleur Exquise

Twelve

How many buses does it take to ship an entire football team and the cheer squad to training camp? The answer became apparent as soon as my father's car pulled up at the school's parking lot. There were five buses waiting there for us- three to ferry the students and the coaching staff, another for luggage, while the last was for all the equipment that the two teams needed for the duration of the training camp.

"Look, there Darcie is," my mother excitedly perks up upon seeing the Antichrist somewhere in the crowd. "My, she's even more beautiful that I remember her."

I scoffed at my mother's assessment of Darcie Scott. Yes, there was no denying that Darcie was physically attractive but little did my mom know that on the inside, Darcie was uglier than an Ugly Sister. Still, as soon as my eyes fell on her, I could hardly look away. She was dressed in a pair of cut-off denim shorts that made her legs appear longer than they are, which is really something as they were already long and gangly, like a giraffe. Although, no one dared to mention the 'g' word around Darcie after she practically took out Bryant Keller last year for describing her as one. 

Darcie's dark hair was pulled up high and tied in a messy knot, and she wore an old Pembroke High football jersey that would have engulfed her body, were it not for the fact that she'd tucked the hem into the front band of her shorts. At the back, the tail of the shirt fell to below her shorts. From behind, it looked like she wasn't wearing a thing. Not that I was concentrating on that; the number on the jersey was more interesting than anything.

It was a number no one on the team wore now, as it had been 'retired' for the past eighteen months. It was the number 7 and it had been worn by Sean Thomas throughout his football career at school, and again at college. It was the number he was wearing when Pembroke High won the State Championship the season before last. When Sean graduated, the number was removed from the approved list we had. 

"Is that Harlan she's speaking to?" Mom asked. Jumping out of the car, Mom comes to help Dad and me as we start to move my bags from the trunk of the car over to the two buses that held luggage and equipment, but her attention is on Darcie and the boy she was speaking to. "Oh, are they having an argument?"

It was highly likely that they were. I mean, this is Darcie, after all. She was the type to argue with her shadow and after the showdown she and Harlan were having in the dance studio only a few days ago, the probability of them arguing was higher than usual. 

"Do you have everything?" Dad asked, his tone of voice betraying how boring he found all this. Unlike all the other fathers, mine wasn't overly proud of my football abilities. Instead of pushing me to be a quarterback, Dad was constantly trying to get me to quit- he kept going on and on and on about concussions. When I nodded to Dad that I had everything, and a quick double check of the car told us that I was right, Dad grabbed Mom's hand and took off for the car. "Well, enjoy. Call us when you need picking up."