Prologue

"Four laps. Go!" Coach said, blowing his whistle. The ear-splitting sound erupted through the quiet air. Everyone in line began jogging around the track at their school, Everwood High.

The basketball teams had their first game in a week. So, Coach Retare made the girls' and boys' basketball teams practice today for preparation.

The only girl on the girls' basketball team who wasn't ready for the game, was (Y/n). She never really wanted to be on the basketball team, but her mother made her. Ever since her father was murder in front of her eyes, her mother has been devastated. She's been going out late at night, getting drunk, bringing men home, and beating up (Y/n).

(Y/n) began her second lap around the track, in the lead. She's been running ever since she was little. She ran when her father was shot, when her mother came home with a man and they did certain things, and when she needed air at her favorite spot in the town park.

(Y/n) turned around and saw that she was a few yards away from her teammates. Focusing her eyes on the path in front of her, she continued pumping her arms and moving her legs like pistons.

Turning around the bend and beginning the third lap, she heard a small rustle in the bushes. Turning her head slightly, she began to slow down her pace. She peered over at the bushes, trying not to draw too much attention.

Upon hearing the shriek of a whistle, she began to run at her normal pace, moving her body like pistons once again. She shook off the thought and continued running. She knew nothing could be following her. Or so she thought.

For little did she know, someone was watching her. (Y/n) didn't deny the thoughts of someone staring at her, but she did push it away to the back of her mind as she concentrated on the task in front of her.

Entering the fourth lap, she tripped over an invisible force, sending her on the ground. A few kids snickered loudly behind her, while (Y/n) clutched her left leg tightly against her chest. The coach's whistle blew once again.

"Come on, (Y/n). You're the top on the team. Go! One extra lap." He clenched his hands around his clipboard tightly, wrinkling the team list clipped under.

(Y/n) sighed as she got up. Trying to walk again, she hobbled slowly in place while the others caught up to her and pushed her down on the ground. Then, Bedelth, the most popular girl in school, happened to walk up to (Y/n). This made no sense to (Y/n) since Bedelth doesn't do any sports.

"Hey, ho. How's the stripper business going?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and continued jogging away from Bedelth. But Bedelth was too quick and grabbed (Y/n)'s wrist, making the poor girl turn to face her.

"What do you want?" (Y/n) asked.

Bedelth let go of (Y/n) and looked at her newly manicured nails stained with a hot pink nail polish. "You know exactly what I want: to ruin your life."

"Go ahead. It wouldn't fix anything that's going on. Plus, I only have half a year left of your bullshit then I'm off to college."

Bedelth let out a cackle. "That's very funny you know? Just the thought of you thinking you can escape me? The famous Bedelth? Nuh-uh"—she thrust out a finger and wagged it in (Y/n)'s face—"Didn't you hear? I'm going to the same college as you. Isn't that exciting?"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in shock. Another six years in college with this slut? Nope. Not doing it. I can't handle it. Especially if she's in my classes, (Y/n) thought.

"Miss Smith, what do you think you're doing out here? You have no reason to be on school grounds after school hours," Coach Retare said, approaching the two girls.

"Oh you know," Bedelth said, trying to act as sweet as possible. It made (Y/n) sick. "Just talking to my good ol' buddy (Y/n)! Isn't that right?" Bedelth cast a glance over to (Y/n), threatening her with her eyes if she lied to Coach Retare.

(Y/n) quickly nodded her head, not ready to have another clothing disaster.

Coach Retare narrowed his eyes at the two girls, almost studying them. "If I catch you again on school grounds after school hours, I will have to put you in detention, Miss Smith."

"Won't happen again, sir." Bedelth smiled at coach. Coach Retare then walked back to the team.

"See ya later," Bedelth said before adding one more word, incomprehensible to (Y/n).

Shrugging it off, (Y/n) made her way back to the track, sitting down in the back of the group that was waiting for the next words from Coach Retare.

"Alright, kids. First game is coming up in a few days. I expect the best effort out of every one of you. If not, I have conditioning options for our next practice. Now, each girl pair up with a boy. You need to know how tough your opponent will be at this game. We all know how dirty Neverwood High can be."

Every girl looked at the boys, trying to pick out their boyfriends or close trusted friends. That only left (Y/n) by herself; at least that's what she thought.

     "(Y/n), go with Mark." Coach Retare looked up from his clipboard and pointed with his pencil towards an average-height male. He had tan skin, dark brownish-black hair, and deep brown eyes. He wore a white shirt with the words "Playin' All Day" written in grey. He also wore light grey basketball shorts with blue and gold Stephen Currys.

     (Y/n) made her way over to Mark, waving slightly. Mark waved back and flashed a smile which (Y/n) returned, wondering when he was going to make fun of her.

     "Hey, I'm Mark. Nice to meet you."

     "(Y/n), nice to meet you too." (Y/n) stood there, unsure of what to do.

     "So...," Mark started. "You want to practice?"

     "I don't really care. I never wanted to be on this team from the start." (Y/n) mumbled the last part to herself. She didn't really want anyone to know about her life, she's kept to herself since she was young because she's never had a friend.

     "Well then, let's go." Mark grabbed a basketball from the cart Coach just pulled out from the school storage only moments ago. Mark tossed the ball to (Y/n). "Let's start with offense. Try and hold onto the ball as long as you can without me grabbing it."

     (Y/n) nodded and began dribbling the ball with her right hand. She stuck her left arm out and held it against Mark to block him from cutting across and smacking the ball. Mark hovered over her, trying to find a way to reach the ball. (Y/n) dribbled the ball a little lower, making sure he wouldn't be able to grab it from a high height if it slipped from her hand. (Y/n) turned around quickly, switching hands. Now, her left hand was dribbling while the right was protecting her.

     "Ball, ball, ball!" Mark said, trying to distract her. He waved his arms up and down, trying to catch her attention.

     (Y/n) cut underneath Mark's arms and away from him, keeping the ball in safe hands.

Mark quickly zoomed up to her, hovering over her back and trying not to get the reaching-in foul.

     (Y/n) quickly backed up against him, similar to how she was taught when she was young. No one ever liked it when you pressed your back and butt up against them.

Noticing Mark was trying to avoid being touched by her backside, (Y/n) cut through once again before tripping over her own two feet and falling face first onto the pavement just outside of the track. She heard the basketball bounce away from her in the distance.

     "You alright?" Mark asked.

     (Y/n) nodded her head but didn't get up. She felt blood oozing from her forehead from the pavement but didn't mention it. Mark grabbed (Y/n) by the back and flipped her over, inspecting her face, hands, arms, and legs for any scuffing, bruises, or blood.

     "Ouch," Mark said upon finding the blood on her forehead. "Come on, let's take you to Coach."

    (Y/n) nodded her head. She let Mark help take her over to Coach for first aid since the nurse wasn't there after school hours. She looked over her hands and arms and saw nothing was there. She looked back at Mark to see that his focus was set straight ahead and his cheeks were a bit redder than usual, especially for doing so little. He wasn't breathing heavy or anything. That's when she remembered the move she pulled against Mark. She then began to blush a little bit, unannounced to it at the beginning. She was a little bit embarrassed as well since she forgot she was up against a guy instead of a usual girl.

Once they were at the bench where Coach Retare was, Mark grabbed the first aid kit and motioned for (Y/n) to sit down. He grabbed some cleaners and dabbed at the scrape which stung badly for (Y/n).

     "Ouch," (Y/n) hissed from the pain.

Mark immediately pulled back. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" He asked frantically.

     "No, it just stings really badly," (Y/n) replied, rubbing her arm.

     "Sorry. I should've warned you. I'm almost done though. Just sit still." Mark continued on cleaning the cut, being more cautious than before.

(Y/n) stared into his eyes as he cleaned the cut, almost entranced by them. Before she knew it though, those eyes focused back on hers. She then noticed that Mark was done cleaning her up.

"Thanks, Mark."

"No problem, (Y/n)." Mark stood up from the bench and brushed off invisible dust from his grey shorts. "Welp, let's get back to work. It's my turn on offense since you technically lost the ball."

(Y/n) smiled. "Alright but don't go easy on me."

"Who said I was going easy on you?" Mark smiled devilishly. "Let's get started." Mark and (Y/n) headed back to their spot—Mark picking up the basketball.

"Let's go," he said, picking up his dribble. (Y/n) stayed out in front of him, holding a defensive pose with her arms outstretched, ready to knock the ball out of his hands. She faked left, causing him to put his right arm out and dribble the ball with his left hand, opening up the grab for (Y/n). She went back to the right side and smacked the ball out of his hand, dribbling it in her left hand now.

     "Impressive," Mark murmured.

Coach Retare's whistle shrieked once again throughout the cool winter air. "Alright, players. Practice is over. Everyone head home and I'll see you guys tomorrow for our last practice before going against Neverwood High next week."

The groups of girls and boys left one by one, leaving the track and heading inside to grab their stuff.

     "Well, that was fun," Mark said as the two of them walked inside.

(Y/n) smiled for the first time in ages. "Yes. Yes it was."

———

Hi! DragonFlame here! Just a heads up, this story is published on Wattpad and Quotev.com. This is my own story. If you see any copies of it, please notify me. I've been taking breaks off it as of recently, so if you see other updated versions (minus the ones I listed), those aren't mine.