Hexagon

Chapter 1

There it was: nothing more than a speck in the sky. It would have been invisible against the velvet night if not for the stars, but even they had lost a bit of their luminescence tonight. I stretched out my arms, craning my neck back while zeroing in on the falling object. Yes! I snatched the hexagonal shaped ball securely against my chest and dashed ahead, my legs a flurry of peach on the field. The whistle blew in the background.

"Once again! Our four year champion - Cole Dane - has done it again!"

My faced stretched into a grin so wide my cheeks hurt. I probably looked like a sweaty, messy, unruly jungle dweller but it was okay. I could hear the blood pumping through my head, and circling all over in tandem with my exhausted heart. God, winning was so awesome. Gradually, the thunderous roar of the audience died down, and I headed off to the locker room, wondering when the other contestants would arrive. Usually, it was between 5-10 minutes but this year, the bunch was pathetic. Maybe I would have some extra time before their jealous eyes and tight smiles congratulated me.

"Hey."

I whipped around, narrowing my eyes. Only contestants were allowed back here, and according to my watch, it had been only 3 minutes and 26 seconds - a record. I couldn't have anyone cutting that close. Victory was mine.

"Hi... I wasn't expecting you," I replied.

Strolling confidently toward me was a somewhat familiar guy, but I couldn't match a name and face. His long, red hair had escaped the bun it was spun into, and his face was flushed to the same color, probably from all the running around Nightball required. This was bad. How did I not notice this guy was that good?

"Haha, it's okay. You look winded, though. Might want to rest a bit after the awards." His mouth twitched. The bastard was taunting me.

"Actually, I was thinking of going to the gym."

My rival raised an eyebrow. "At four in the morning?"

I shrugged. "It does get lonely, actually. I would invite you... but no one has been able to keep up with me so far."

The idiot laughed at my jab. "I would accept your offer... but in case you didn't know, sleep is essential to the well being of a person."

This guy was serious getting on my nerves. I was the champion. I crossed that glow-in-the-dark finish line three minutes before him. He seriously needed to learn some respect. I glared at him while imagining all the oriental swords my father collected stabbing into him with the speed that I ran. I gawked at his nonchalance as he brushed past me, peeling off his ruined shirt and stripping of his soiled shorts. Nightball was messy and violent and daring. It wasn't about strength though, no, it was speed and strategy. If a contestant was too slow, they came back with more than a few scratches and dirt. Following him in, I noticed the tattoos that adorned his biceps. They decorated everyone's biceps actually. It was called Fatum, fate. His right one was a juniper tree with bees buzzing overhead. Peculiar, but not the weirdest I've seen. His left one was a hexagon, each point dripping some type of liquid.

No fricken way.

"Hey, something wrong? You look like your mother rooted for the other contestants."

I glanced at his face, then quickly away, mumbling something about how proud my mother is. I tripped over discarded bags that littered the floor in an attempt to get to my private changing room. I requested one so that no one would see my tattoos. I've gotten an array of reactions from people who've seen them, mostly shock and pity. I didn't need something I was born with to interfere with my career. There was already enough gossip about me. I yanked off my shirt as soon I slammed the door shut in the guy's puzzled face, twisting to get a good look at my own left arm's tattoo. A hexagon. Dripping liquid at its vertices.

"Damn you, fate. Damn you."