No Way Out | Teen Wolf & The Vampire Diaries

Chapter 2

After lunch, Allison, Lydia, and I stroll onto the lacrosse field, my crosse in one hand, my mouth-guard in the other. I've already changed into kit — black track-pants, black trainers, and a grey Nike shirt.

Allison gives me a brief hug, wishes me luck, and sits on the bleachers with Lydia.

I spot Coach Finstock and tap him on the shoulder. His eyebrows furrow when he sees a crosse in my hand. "You here to help?" he inquires.

"Oh, no." I smile friendlily, trying not to make him feel embarrassed by his mistake. "I'm here to try out for the team," I assert.

He laughs, his facial expression dropping when he realises I'm serious. "But this is a boy's team!" he splutters, "You're a... a girl!!"

"I know." I smile. "I also know that, legally, girls have the right to try out for a boy's team if the sport isn't offered to girls, and Beacon Hills doesn't offer lacrosse to girls."

He looks hesitant, uncertain of what to do.

"This is just try-outs, Coach. I've been playing this game for ten years and I'm quick." I glance at the guys who are warming up already. "Most of these guys look like they have the endurance of a flat battery. Strong, but... slightly flat."

He chuckles. "You're not wrong." He pauses, turning his whistle over and over in his hand as he ponders the situation. "Okay, tell you what. You can try out. But this means, legally, no-one can body-check you, and vice-versa."

"Thank you!" I exclaim with a grin. "Do I need a helmet? I don't have a helmet. Girls don't use helmets. I mean, we didn't use helmets on the team I was on..." I cringe at how many times I use the word "helmet".

"You're gonna need one, just in case." He blows the whistle. "Greenberg! Get a helmet from the storage room, ASAP." I see some lanky kid with shoulder-length brown hair strolling off. "Don't walk, run!!" Coach Finstock yells. "What does 'ASAP' mean to you?!"

'Greenberg' starts jogging.

"Airheads," Coach mutters, gesturing at Greenberg. He shakes his head with disdain. I laugh. We stand on the sidelines, watching on as more and more players gather on the field.

Isaac is standing near the goal and keeping a low profile, mindlessly throwing a ball up and catching it with his crosse.

Coach turns to me, five minutes later. "Ready...." he trails off, "Your name?"

"Nylah Argent."

"Argent it is. Let's go."

I tuck my mouth-guard into the pocket of my track-pants. Coach and I stroll over to the group of boys. Everyone, and I mean everyone, gapes when they see me, a girl, next to him.

I stand in between Isaac and Stiles. They both look at me questioningly, surprised I'm here. I smirk, my eyes fixed on Coach.

"I hope this won't be a disappointing season," Coach announces as he surveys the group. "Greenberg!" he snaps. "Hand Argent a helmet, why are you holding two?"

Greenberg hands me a helmet. I smile at him as a 'thank you'.

"As always," Coach announces, "Each and every one of you — especially you, Greenberg — must listen to my instructions. Oh, and no one, and I mean no one, can body-check Argent. Play a good game! I want to be impressed for once."

Coach strolls to the sideline. As soon as he leaves, the whole team swarms around me, bombarding me with questions.

"What right do you think you have to play lacrosse?" Jackson asks haughtily. "You'll get squashed like a pancake."