I couldn’t wait to get home and write, telling Daisy all about it.
Picking up my poms, I headed to the locker room. A piece of memorabilia from every game I’d ever cheered… But this would be my first in four years. Seeing the cleanup crew enter the stadium, I quickly bent down, plucked a piece of grass from the field, and held up the single blade.
My heart pounded in my chest, and lifting my hand, I ran my fingers over my black hair and lipstick, and I felt a flutter in my chest… one of us freaks… One of us freaks? I thought, but all I could do was watch him disappear into the locker rooms. It’s good to have another one of us freaks on this team.” It’s about time a pompom chick ’round here broke the mold. “Are you talking to me?” I asked in confusion, checking around us to see if anyone else was here.Īustin smirked in a deliciously dark way and gestured to my hair and face. “It’s about fuckin’ time, by the way!” I suddenly heard and looked behind me, straight at Carillo. The voice within hadn’t had the strength to spoil it. I’d actually made it through a game unscathed. I stared back out onto the gridiron and sighed in relief… I’d done it. “I know exactly what you mean,” I replied wistfully and inhaled the smell of greasy food, churned-up grass… victory.Īustin glanced back to the tunnel and, without another word, began to saunter away. The replay of the game in my mind, the making of memories on this field.”Ī sense of peace floated over me at what he described. But I didn’t date, and from what I’d heard, neither did he.
Austin Carillo was the Italian bad boy of UA: six-foot-four, beautifully olive skin, piercings galore, black ear gauges, neck-to-toe tattoos, dark hair and the darkest of brown eyes.
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