Nox
Three years ago...
I dread going to Coldwater High for the same reasons I love it.
"I am terribly sorry to announce to you that our school won't be able to continue renting out the facility in Carwell because of the gas leak at the basketball studio." Coach Ashby says to us. The entire girls' volleyball team is currently gathered around her in a circle as we listen to the unfortunate news.
I nervously bite on my nails while the rest of the girls react in a chorus of distressed sighs and surprised gasps.
"What? You can't be serious." Beatrix, our captain fumes.
"But the principal has signed a contract as soon as the season began in August and we're supposed to train there until the State Tournament." Paris says. "This isn't fair!"
"I understand completely why you girls are upset right now, but," Coach begins to coax us, but the girls aren't having it.
"Where the hell are we supposed to train now?" Carson booms. "All of the renting volleyball facilities are booked for the season and the only one left is the one at Crawford District and it has closed down."
Carwell was a pretty decent volleyball studio if you take out the cracked walls, the missing floor panels, the leaking ceilings in the restrooms. Our school is impoverished and impecunious enough as it is and Carwell Studio was considered a golden opportunity at the time. It was certainly better than training out in the open gymnasium where the sun would blind us and the boys from the football team would come lurking.
However, what infuriated me the most is that despite the fact that our schools' economy is left to shambles, it prioritizes the male sport teams above all; always putting the male basketball team first or the football team or even the volleyball team.
Admittedly enough the male sports teams have brought home a number of victories that maintains our school's pride, but our team is a force to be reckoned with and I know we can win at the State Tournament.
That is if a certain someone in our team takes the hint.
"Can you at least tell us the reason why you're cutting off the rope for us?" Beatrix asks. "Because this is completely irrational to just drop us like this."
"It wasn't my choice Beatrix to break off the contract with the Carwell Studio, but the school made the decision to cut you off in order to save more money to invest in the basketball team." Coach explains. "The boys in the basketball team could have died in that studio and we're suing the facility. We were lucky the leak was small and it confined in a smaller room otherwise... I don't even want to imagine what would have happened."
Chills rain down my spine when I hear Coach's words. The team could have died in that explosion. My boyfriend could have died in that explosion.
"Besides, your team has faced two major losses at the District and the Regional Tournament ever since your previous setter left for Montreal." She adds and my stomach churns at the memory.
"But this isn't fair!" Beatrix booms. "Why is it that you always prioritize the male teams instead of putting us both on the same level? That's sexist."
"She's right." A voice suddenly says.
"What?"
"We have faced two humiliating losses ever since the Sectional Tournament. And that's when Ardyn left for Montreal. Coldwater High is as poor as a church mouse and they don't have the luxury to invest in both teams when there's only one studio available for the basketball team." Rika explains in a calm and collected manner. "And for argument's sake let's assume that the school is indeed playing favorites. Let's assume that they are indeed putting the male sports teams above the female ones. What else is there to do about it? We lost two important matches while the guys won fair and square. It's simple really. There are two teams. One winning and one losing. One studio. One investment. It's our fault we couldn't prove ourselves worthy of a renting facility. We can't complain because we haven't exceeded their expectations ever since Ardyn left and you took her place."
Well shit, this isn't going to end well.
At this point Beatrix is fuming, but she tries to keep her composure by crossing her arms across her chest in a defensive stance. "What are you implying here Rika?" She questions, her tone low as she takes a step closer to Rika. "Are you saying I'm not suited to be captain?"
"Your words not mine." Rika simply says.
"I can easily get rid of you without even breaking a sweat. You always have something interesting to say."
How professional.
"I'd like to see you try captain."
Rika knows what she's doing. Beatrix is well aware that without Rika's problem-solving skills and quick thinking we would be demolished and even though she's the captain, it's always Rika who comes up with new strategies when hers fail. Besides, she's the right-side hitter of the team and having managed to balance both offense and defense she's always quick on her feet.
I always thought that Rika should have been the Outside Hitter if not the Setter because she thrives on the offensive strategy, but I have a feeling that Beatrix deliberately used her as a right-side hitter in order to show off her own skills. However, she hasn't had much luck on that department considering we had two humiliating losses at the District and Regional Tournament since our previous captain, Ardyn left for Montreal. The truth is, everybody in the team is actually doing their part, but Beatrix always switches up her strategies when Rika points out the loose ends and that results in chaos in the field.
"Okay, that's enough Rika." Paris intervenes. "What are our options here Coach?"
"Your team has to train in the open gymnasium." She muses and the entire team lets out a dreadful groan.
"Just my luck." Carson whines.
"Are we seriously going to have to train under the sun? We won't be able to see shit." Astrid follows.
"Don't worry Team Hurricane." Coach says. "I'll figure out a way to make training much more comfortable for everyone."
* * *
The day comes and goes in a haze. Ever since the devastating news about our training ground, I went back to class and went on with my day trying my best to focus on the lectures even though all I could possibly think was the fact that we would have to train in the open gymnasium. It wasn't the worst idea; at least the ceiling didn't leak, since it didn't even have one. I guess we would have to get used to the sun poking our eyes out or we could wear caps like how beach volleyball players do. At least we have somewhere to train until the State Tournament takes place.
A paper lands in an abrupt manner on my desk, causing me to jerk upwards only to face my Algebra professor. Mr. Kendrick adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose when he says, "You'll need to get more than that to get that volleyball scholarship Ms. Wilson."
I gaze down at my paper that is covered in splotches of red when I notice the bright red 40% on the top right of my page. The number is glaring back at me with animosity and I cower against my chair. Well, the good news is that I didn't score any lower than last time. Going through algebra is like rowing a boat in the middle 0f a thunderstorm and the fact that my ship is still moving steadily through such strong gusty winds, dense clouds and heavy rain proves that I'm doing something right.
"Yes, Mr. Kendrick." I say lazily.
Who am I kidding? If I don't get better grades, I might as well kiss my volleyball scholarship goodbye. And if our team doesn't win on the State Tournament, I won't be able to do anything with my life. How does Rika and the girls manage to balance training with keeping up at their studies and simultaneously maintaining a social life when I'm struggling with almost everything. There just aren't enough hours in the day and I don't have the ability to multitask. If I focus on volleyball, I'll fail my studies and if I focus on my studies, I'll lose volleyball. It's not my fault I'm a slow learner.
Besides, who the hell even needs algebra to play volleyball?
Screw this, I need a tutor.
And I'll probably have to study a few more hours at the library today.
* * *
Slinging my bookbag around my shoulder, I pace down the alley that leads to my neighborhood when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out only to see my boyfriend's name lighting the screen and my mood. I swipe the green icon to pick up the call unable to contain the small smile that plays on my face.
I suck in a breath and don't say a thing because I want to hear his voice. After such a long drag of a day, nothing can make me feel better than just listening to him speak. However, there's a lot of noise in the background and it worries me. He's probably at Lucky Blue. I hope he's not drinking much even though it's only Friday. He has to go to work tomorrow at the construction site.
"Nox? You there love?" Elijah says from the other side of the line. The tone of his voice is cool and steady, thankfully and he sounds playful.
"Hi," I say lowly and I can hear him place down some object on a hard surface. "Are you with friends right now?"
"Yeah, we're just hanging out with Madison and Cam at the Blue." He replies. "You want to come? I'd like it if you'd join us. It's Friday and some other guys from our school are here too."
I play with the zipper of my jacket and bite on my lip tentatively. After what Coach told us about our training ground and receiving yet another failed Algebra test, I'd rather pass. It's not like I would go bury my head in the books the second I walked back into my house, but I wasn't in a cheerful mood either.
I didn't feel like forgetting and pretending I was happy tonight.
"Sorry, Eli" I mutter. "I think I'll pass."
"Are you okay?" He asks with concern painting his voice. "You sound worked up. Did something happen?"
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit."
"I'm okay, really."
"I can smell the shit from miles."
I laugh to myself, but I cover the speaker so that he doesn't hear me.
"You want me to come over?" He suggests. "We can talk as long as you'd like."
"No, I just want to eat something. Haven't had lunch."
"You can grab a burger here." He tells me. "Come on, it's on your way and I haven't seen you at all today. Have some food here and then I'll walk you home, okay? My treat."
Well, when he puts it like that, I guess it's impossible to deny his request. Who in their right mind would deny free food?
"Fine." I surrender. "I'll only stay for a half hour though."
"Deal."
As I walk along the quiet street the sky hanging above my head resembles a canvas on which an artist has carefully painted in shades of blue starting from an indigo shade the closer it reaches the surface while the blues lighten the further up you look until it fades completely. A warm blush the sun has kindly left behind spreads all over the top and dark clouds rush to cover the light. No one is around and I can finally breathe.
It's eight am and I just left Coldwater High after five dreadful hours of trying to study in peace. I know I will be unable to focus while being at home so I had to make do while I was in school. Coldwater High was thirty minutes away from my house on foot and ten to fifteen if you take the bus. I didn't feel like going home straight away and even decided on taking the long road. Eli only wants to cheer me up since he can read through my bullshit and I want free dinner. I would be a fool to refuse that offer.
I don't want to talk. I don't want to look at anyone. I don't even want to hear and see anything. When I go home, my father will read through my gloomy mood and I will be forced to lie. He will see it and my brother will force me to speak. Then Dad is going to comfort me and tell me that everything will be alright when in reality I know that if I don't get that damn scholarship I'm done for. They will tell me that I can always do something else, but the truth is I don't even know what I want from my life. All I want know right now is to sit alone someplace quiet and enjoy a meal.
But apparently, I can't even do that now.
And I hate that I can't be alone when I need it.
Who am I to refuse other people's requests though?
I'm no one important. I've failed my grades and our volleyball team doesn't even has a place to train for the State Tournament.
If I can't even do things right for myself, I might as well please those around me.
I turn to an alley in hopes that I would get to the bar faster. The quicker I'll get there the quicker I'll leave and I'll finally get the chance to be alone.
It's dark and the road is wet and I feel so small walking between the tall buildings with their fire escapes protruding from the sides. A series of dumpsters is lined up on each side and I find myself stepping in a puddle of murky waters when I back away in disgust only to bump on a hard surface behind me. I turn around and face a tall man in his forties and I gulp at the way he's looking down at me.
"Pardon me," I mutter and make my way when he grabs the back of my hood and throws me on the ground. I land against the brick wall on one of the buildings and my jeans get wet as soon as my butt touches the ground. My bookbag is on the ground out of reach.
"You're sorry eh little girl?" He snarls. "You wanna do something to make up for it?" His voice is shaky and in his grip there's a bottle of beer.
I haven't even turned eighteen yet, you sick fuck.
I get up on my feet carefully and try to leave when I grab the dumpster next to me and bring it down as a diversion when the man falls on the ground. I sprint ahead, my heart now palpitating in my chest, while my legs move on their own accord until, I step onto my shoelaces and fall flat on my face.
My survival instinct takes over and my left knee lands first, and a sharp pain overtakes my entire leg. My face is drenched in that dirty water and I'm pretty sure I smelled piss near the corner the guy threw me at.
Fuck, I have volleyball practice next week-
"Shit," I grit to myself. I'm lying on my side and I try to lift myself off the ground when the man approaches me with a broken beer bottle. The edges are sharp and droplets of liquid are hanging from the corners. I desperately look around for anything I could possibly use as a weapon, but do I have the guts to use it?
The man's cold menacing gaze gives me the answer I need.
My eyes fall on a syringe that is inches away from me. I suck in a breath to the thought that I could have almost fallen on top of it. It's still halfway full and there's a little bit of blood on the tip.
What the hell am I going to do?
As soon as I grab the syringe, the man kicks me in the stomach and I cough out harshly. Sharp pains shoot through my belly when he punts me mercilessly and he raises his arm with the broken bottle and I scream for him to stop. I cry out for help but nobody is listening.
Nobody cares.
"Who the hell do you think you are girl?" He steps on my injured knee and I haven't realized I was crying this entire time until I notice the wet stains on my jacket. I scream at him to stop and when he doesn't, I tighten my grip around the syringe and a shadow covers me.
If I don't do this, he will kill me right here.
I don't even bother to look up when I jerk my hand towards his leg that is stepping onto mine.
The needle pierces through the fabric of his jeans.
The man suddenly falls back as soon as a fist collides against his face. The broken beer bottle falls on the ground and shatters further causing me to flinch. Gooseflesh rains down on my skin when another guy walks from behind me, dressed in all black. I can't see his face, however, because his black hair falls in unruly spikes covering his eyes. I notice his pale skin, hard jawline, controlled breathing.
Smoke comes out from his lips when he inhales and he drops his joint on the cold wet ground. He steps on it and walks towards my attacker in a calm and composed manner, as if he didn't just punch him in the fucking face.
"Who the hell do you think you are attacking some teenage girl while drunk asshole?" The new guy says in a low tone. He then grabs him from his collar and pushes him against the brick wall and punches him in the stomach several times until the man begs him to stop, but he doesn't. Instead, he throws him on the ground and punts him exactly how he did me.
"Men who prey on teenage girls don't deserve to be called 'men'." He spits. "Hell, if I call you scum it would be an insult to scum." He kneels down and looks at him carefully before turning to me with dark eyes. His gaze then falls on something further away and I notice that he's looking at the syringe I was holding as a defense weapon.
He gets up and walks towards the syringe then kicks it towards the direction of the man on the ground. "You see this?" He asks him and the man grunts. "That's a heroin syringe and she was going to use it on you. You think that by kicking the living hell out of a young woman makes you powerful big guy? Well guess what? This girl was going to end your pathetic little life if I didn't show up.
"This used syringe has been laying in this isolated piss-stinking alley for who knows how long." He continues. "All the junkies come here to get their dose and many times a lot of the deals happen here because if you scream no one can hear you and even if they do no one will give a fuck. If she used that needle on you if you get infection, you're considered lucky. In the worst-case scenario, the needle would transmit germs into your bloodstream such as bacteria, viruses and transmittable diseases. Blood-borne illnesses are hard to get rid of buddy."
The man looks like he's about to pass out from the beating he received so he only nods lamely and the boy smiles before driving his fist into the man's face one last time until he's knocked out.
"Stay the hell away from teenage girls you sick fuck." He says then spits on him before moving away.
The boy approaches me and circles his arms around me, helping me to get up on my feet. I wince when I stretch my knee and he holds me still, careful not to let me fall.
"Are you okay?" He asks me, his tone is surprisingly lighter than before and I nod meekly. His knuckles are all bruised and swollen and covered in scrapes. He needs to ice his hand or he will be in pain for days.
"Liar." He snorts. "Come on, I'll help you walk to your destination."
"I'm fine." I fight the pained expression on my face with a forced smile. I walk a few steps ahead of him in order to prove to him that I can walk on my own.
"Do ten jumping jacks and I'll believe you." He grins.
I glare at him blankly and he chuckles.
"I'm Yoongi." He says after a while. "Now do you want to stay here and wait for the big guy to wake up or do you want to get the hell away from this shithole and get your leg checked?"
Yoongi is 18 and Nox is 17
happy jk day!