Mornings in the Cabrera household were like a well calibrated machine. I had 3 younger siblings to look after. The youngest being Anthony, who we all called by his middle name of Mikey; and Sarah, who went to the same school. I always made sure to get them ready first and on the bus in time; while mom got ready for work. After that I took care of myself while Brandon, the second oldest, got himself ready. We used to be really close. Brandon was about to enter his teens, and we'd slowly drifted apart. I could change that, I really could, but my plate was overflowing as it were. There was school, new friends, discovering I had witchy powers, and having to study for said witchy powers while still maintaining my regular school studies. I had a feeling my plate was about to get a whole lot fuller . . . and I was right.
"Ah-ha! You thought I forgot about you, did you?!" Oh no. My mom had already dropped me off and I was going through my locker to get ready for my morning. I did not see this coming.
Coach Weber looked old enough to be someone's grandpa, but don't let his looks fool you. He could make his pecs dance, or so I'd heard. This man happened to be worse than any coach on television I'd ever seen. Mason was willing to make things up to me, and was even willing to ditch Lacrosse practice for me. That was how I originally met the coach. He had thrown himself in front of Mason's car while we made our grand escape. Luckily Mason could drive like James Bond, so we got away; but not without consequences. I never got around to asking Mason what he had to go through after our somewhat disastrous date. I was sure he paid heavily. Now that plenty of time had passed, I figured I shouldn't have treated Mason the way I did. It wasn't his fault he's an emotional klutz.
I was suddenly yanked by the scruff of my uniform backwards, caught in a grip that I couldn't escape. I swear my ankles dragged across the floor, possibly leaving a scuff or two. I might as well have been leaving a trail of blood. This definitely got the attention of everyone around me. My locker was still wide open as I was being dragged backwards; one of my spectators taking mercy on me by shutting my locker for me.
I was amazed at how this man managed to walk forward while dragging me backwards. That couldn't be possible! He was smirking, no doubt about it. And as luck would have it, everyone in the hallway quickly averted their eyes elsewhere at our passing. Traitors!! The hall was miraculously void of teachers as well; as if they knew to stay away while I was being marched to my execution. Probably didn't want to be buried in police reports having been witness to my demise.
I was dragged straight into the boy's locker room, past the showers to an office with a large window overlooking the lockers. This was obviously the coach's office. Tossing me into the chair opposite his desk, I had the urge to scream as I quickly realized I had no way to escape. Dropping himself into his chair, he leaned forward on his elbows, eyes locked on me like a trained sniper.
He wasted no time in telling me to call him "coach" from now on, because I was joining "the glorious sport of lacrosse," whether I wanted to or not. He handed me the application and instructed me to sign as he informed me that my first practice would start tomorrow. I considered making a run for it, use a fellow student as a shield if necessary; but it was Monday. There was no way I was going to be able to hide from this man for the rest of the week, let alone the season. I was amazed it took him this long to finally catch me.
But he got me. He really got me. He kept true to his word and his smug look proved it. I signed my name, which was like signing my soul over to the devil. I could swear the fires of hell engulfed me as the coach's smile grew even wider once it was done.
He quickly snatched the paper out from under my grasp and said, "I don't think I ever met a kid who could run like you did. Ask anyone around here, they'll tell you. No else could have easily outrun me like you did with my team captain."
YOU ARE READING
In Shadow Wood, things are never quite as black and white as they appear. Alex Cabrera realizes how dangerous he can be to his fellow wytches. He knows what he can do, but he's still got a long way to go. When it comes to wytchcraft, there's so muc...