Chapter 2 Chapter 02

Skylar's POV

The crowd on the field would not stop talking.

Some of the players laughed at Owen. Some of them stared at me like I had grown a second head. A few girls were still filming with their phones.

Then Penelope pushed her way to the front.

"She cheated!" she shouted. "She totally cheated!"

I turned to her. "Cheated? How do you cheat at throwing a ball through a tire?"

"I don't know how you did it," Penelope said. "But I know you did it. I saw you."

"You saw nothing," Zeke said, putting his clipboard under his arm. "I was standing right there. Every throw was clean."

"Shut up, Zeke," Penelope snapped. "Nobody asked you."

"Cheater," one of her friends said.

"Cheater," another player said, and a few of them laughed.

I picked Hope up from the grass and held her against my chest. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"I don't need to cheat," I said. "I just need to be better than him. And today, I was."

Owen looked at me. His eyes were dark and cold.

"Enjoy it," he said. "Because it is the last time you will ever beat me."

He walked off the field without looking back. Penelope ran after him, and the crowd broke apart.

Zeke stood next to me. "You know you just made the biggest enemy on campus, right?"

"He started it," I said.

"Yeah," Zeke said. "But he's going to finish it. That's how Owen works."

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Owen's POV

I hit the locker door so hard the metal shook.

"Damn it!"

The locker room was empty except for Jordan Carter. He sat on the bench, tying his cleats, and he did not even look surprised.

"Dude," Jordan said. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" I turned to him. "Did you see what just happened out there? Half the campus saw it. It's going to be all over the internet by tonight."

"I saw it," Jordan said. "I was there."

"I wanted to kill her, man," I said. "She made me look like an idiot. In front of everybody."

"Be careful, bro." Jordan stood up and pointed at my hand. "You don't want to hurt your hand. The season starts soon. Coach will lose his mind if his star receiver can't catch."

I looked down. My knuckles were red. I shook my hand out.

"She got lucky," I said.

"Sure," Jordan said. "Lucky."

"You think she's good?"

Jordan's smile went away. "I think Coach Smith gave her my starting spot before she even threw a ball for this team. That's what I think. Three years I've waited for my turn. Three years. And then a girl from a group home walks in, and suddenly everyone's calling her the future of football."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Jordan picked up his helmet. "Don't worry about it. There's no way that little nobody beat you fair and square. And there's no way she lasts a whole season."

"I want her gone."

"Then stop punching lockers," Jordan said. "There are better ways to get even."

He walked out. I sat on the bench alone.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Ryan.

Did Sky get there okay? Please look out for her. She acts tough, but she's all I've got.

I stared at the screen for a long time.

The truth was, I did not want to think about Skylar Scott at all. I did not want to think about how she stood in front of me with coffee on her hands and fire in her eyes. Or how she whispered something to herself before her last throw, like she was praying.

I typed back.

She's fine.

Then I threw the phone into my bag.

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Skylar's POV

When I got back to the locker room, my bag was on the floor.

It was open. My clothes were gone.

"No, no, no," I said, and dropped to my knees.

I found them in the shower stall. My two shirts and my only pair of jeans were soaked and covered in something sticky and pink. It looked like a sports drink. Somebody had cut long holes in the shirts with scissors.

I sat on the cold floor and pressed my hand over my mouth.

I knew who did this. Maybe Penelope, her friends or Owen.

How could a boy be so handsome and such a jerk at the same time? And why did I keep thinking about the way he looked at me before he walked away?

"Stop it, Skylar," I told myself. "You are not here for boys. You are here to win."

I looked at the clock on the wall. My first class started in ten minutes. If I missed it, I would get a warning. Three warnings, and I would lose my scholarship.

I had no time.

I pulled on my sports bra and the only clean thing I had left. My new Crestfield team jacket. It was red and gold, with my number on the back. I zipped it all the way up to my chin.

Then I ran.

I burst through the door of the classroom just as the professor called the names.

"Penelope Harrington."

"Here," Penelope said from the front row. She turned around and smiled at me. It was not a nice smile.

"Skylar Scott," the professor said. "Skylar Scott?"

"Here!" I said, out of breath. "I'm here."

The professor looked at me over his glasses. "Miss Scott. You just made it. Just in time to share your presentation."

"Yes, sir."

I walked to the front of the room. Every eye was on me. Owen sat in the back row with his feet up on the empty chair in front of him. He had a clean shirt on now, and he looked bored.

"Go ahead, Miss Scott," the professor said.

I opened my notes. Before I could say one word, Penelope raised her hand.

"Professor, are you going to let her wear her team jacket in class?"

The professor frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, we do have a dress code here," Penelope said in a sweet voice. "No team gear during academic time. It's in the student handbook."

The professor looked at me. "She's right, Miss Scott. Please remove your jacket during academics."

My stomach dropped.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I said. "I'm just... I'm so cold. I don't want to get sick before the season starts."

"That's no problem," he said. He walked to the wall and turned the heat up. "There. Now go ahead."

I did not move. I kept the jacket zipped to my chin.

Penelope raised her hand again. "Professor, what kind of example does this set for the rest of the class? If the new girl won't even follow the dress code?"

"Penelope has a point," the professor said. His voice was not kind anymore. "This is your last warning, Miss Scott. Remove the jacket, or fail this assignment."

Fail. If I failed my first assignment, I would get a warning on my very first day.

I looked at the back row. Owen had taken his feet down from the chair. He was watching me now, and his face had changed. I could not tell what he was thinking.

"Miss Scott," the professor said. "I am waiting."

My hands were shaking. I took hold of the zipper.

"Professor, wait," Owen said from the back.

But it was too late.

I pulled the zipper down and let the jacket fall from my shoulders.

The whole class gasped.