Helmet Hair, Paper Affairs: A Sashanne Fanfic

Prologue

It was a common afternoon on the last day of September.

Partly cloudy, but nothing too out of the ordinary.

A girl was sitting on the bleachers facing the football field, tapping the end of a pen to her temple. Deep, auburn curls fell from her rounded face. A notebook was folded neatly in her lap, loose papers had been messily tucked in with short notes and tidbits of information irrelevant to why she was here.

Anne Boonchuy wasn't one to normally be out on the bleachers, watching the women's football team afternoon practice.

It wasn't like she needed to be here. She could've gotten what she needed through the help of others or just short inquisitive interviews of her own, but Anne wanted a different approach.

She had been on North Angelwood's newsletter committee since she entered the university. It was always something she considered—being on some sort of journalism committee like yearbook or the newsletter—but never one she took initiative of during her high school years. So she took her chances in college and to her surprise, she enjoyed it.

She was in her 3rd year, working her way toward a bachelors in science.

Journalism was only a hobby. Her true passions lay in nature. She didn't entirely know what branch of science she wanted to be in, she just knew anything with animals was her calling.

For now though, her mind was caught up in the unfinished sentences scribbled across her notebook.

"Why did I agree to this, I don't even know the slightest about football, let alone sports," Anne brought her head back and laid on the bleacher seat behind her, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes.

The Lady Warriors football team would be traveling to regionals in a few weeks, that is, if they won the final game between the universitys biggest rival, South Angelwood Barbarians. It'd be the first time in a few decades they'd be going back for glory. Anne didn't have much hope for them, but it didn't hurt to help out how she could.

The committee agreed this month's paper had to be a banger. They needed help raising school morale. Hopefully it'd be enough to get the Lady Warriors to regionals. She thought observing their practice for a little would help her understand the ropes, but Anne quickly realized this tactic wasn't doing it.

The women in the field below all wore deep crimson uniforms. A ball flying here, a collision over there, the whole concept still seemed too much to take in for such a small amount of time.

This isn't working. Anne thought wearily, swiping her notebook shut, sticking the pen in the spine.

She wondered if Marcy could help her out. Although, she doubted her friend had any more knowledge than she did.

Marcy was a bright girl, her friend and dorm mate. She was top of their graduating class and was probably smart enough to engineer a plane or something (literally, Marcy had taken a few engineering classes over the years).

Anne stepped off the bleachers and cut through the field to return to her dorm. Maybe clearing her mind with some Thai tea and pop music would calm her nerves.

"HEY, WATCH IT-" A voice startled her; before she had time to look, she was forcefully shoved to the ground.

The world spun for a few seconds, a swirling background of trees was all Anne saw in her vision until she came to.

"Ugh..." Anne blinked a few times, her blurred sight clearing. She sat up, rubbing her head. It felt like a truck had just ran her over.

A person lay in the grass next to her in a dirtied, football uniform. They shuffled themselves upright, yanking the helmet off their head.

"Hey, you better watch where you're-" The person spat abrasively, whipping their head back to her.

Golden hair fell from a disheveled helmet and blue eyes bore right into Anne's. The stranger had pointed features and a rough expression, with a small cut-like scar swept across her right cheek.

"Uh-" Anne snapped from her gaze. "Um, right, sorry-" the words seemed to spill from her mouth.

The girl blew a breath, "No big deal, just don't walk around like a lost idiot during practice. It's like you're asking for a concussion."

Rubbing a clump of dirt off the edge of her chin, the stranger glanced over the grass at the notebook and papers strewn about. Anne began cleaning up the mess she'd made, embarrassment making her skin crawl and face hot.

She outstretched a hand for her notebook before the girl grabbed it for her, allowing Anne to place the papers inside and gently shut it.

"You look familiar," the blonde stood to her feet, giving her palm to help Anne stand. "Anne? Anne Boonchuy?"

"You know my name?" Anne asked skeptically.

"Well, you write for the uni paper, isn't your name on almost every spread?" The girl cocked her head, helmet in the crook of her arm.

"Oh," Anne rubbed her neck. "Uh, ya, that's me. The same Anne," she gave a shy smile. There was always a short blurb at the end of every newsletter article with the entire committee pictured across in a single row. She knew that was always there—albeit printed very small—but meeting people who actually paid attention to the smaller details made her feel embarrassed almost.

"What are you doing here then? I don't think you're properly dressed for afternoon practice," the blonde joked, folding her arms across her chest.

"I just needed information for the paper, that's all," Anne answered. "I should get going-"

"Waybright!" A stern voice barked across the field, coming from a woman with a whistle hung from her neck.

"Coach!" The girl called back at a volume Anne didn't expect, making her flinch. She messily threw the helmet back on her head and turned to Anne for one last look. "Hey, put in a good word for me," the girl gave a wink, paired with a two fingered salute before she joined the rest of her team.

Waybright. Anne thought. She knew that name. She was one of NAU's star players.

Watching the athlete stand among her teammates, Anne noticed the number "23" was imprinted on the back of her uniform.

She knew this girl existed by name alone but she was always just another unknown person in her mind, she wasn't ever someone she thought she'd ever speak to. Not that she specifically wanted to or cared. All jocks were the same in Anne's eyes; they were all just airheaded jerks with egos bigger than their helmets.

Sasha Waybright was not someone she'd interview anytime soon, in fact, Anne hoped she wouldn't have to speak to her again at all.

Hopefully this was the first and only time she'd bump into the athlete.

"I hope Marcy knows a thing or two more than I do," Anne sighed, turning away from the field.