2 | who's that girl?

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pierce

the squeaky sound of shoes sliding against the floor scratch at my ears, irritation crawling through my veins like a virus.

my teeth grind against each-other as i sit on the sidelines, watching my team play. i do this every single first day back from any break in order to see who's slacked off.

this time, it seems all of them have.

"keep your eyes on the damn ball!" i bellow, blowing into my whistle so they understand the fucking rage i'm feeling.

the sound of giggling penetrates my ears from behind me, and i pinch my forehead. these goddamn girls come here every single practice and sit down just to piss me off.

i watch as the opposed team ends up scoring an easy goal due to a certain student finding the floor more amusing than the game he chooses to play.

"donovan!" dave spins around at the sound of his last name, his wide eyes landing on mine. "where the fuck is your head at? play the game or sit the fuck down!"

"yes, captain." he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, and i lean my back against the plastic seat i'm on. i shake my head in annoyance, watching how the little shits on the court are more on edge now, meaning they're playing better.

"pierce?" a familiar voice slams against my eardrums, and i sink into my seat. not one moment of peace.

"i thought that was you!" she squeals, just assuming she's allowed to take the seat besides me. i don't have to look at her to see the smile on her.

the only reason i say familiar is because the entirety of last year she followed me around like some goddamn lap dog. and here she is, new year same her.

what was her name, sarah? stacy? fuck if i know.

"how did the holidays treat you?" she continues talking to me even as i pay no mind to her. i don't even look at her.

i look over to dave, only to see that he's still standing there, looking clueless as he kicks his own feet.

"fucking hell—" i mutter, "—donovan! get off the fucking court and sit your ass down!" i shoot up off of my chair, and sophie, or sabrina follows besides me.

"where are you going?"

"do yourself the favour of fucking off." i grit out. she gasps, as if this isn't the same thing i've told her almost everyday for months.

dave slowly takes my seat with a frown on his face, trying his hardest not to meet my glare. which means he knows what's good for him.

i run into the court and away from.. goddamn it what's her name? i know for sure it starts with the letter s.

the ball comes my way, and i immediately tackle it out of jonas' hold, and into mine. i run across the court, girly cheers coming from the sidelines as people follow me, but aren't fast enough to catch up.

i stop in front of the hoop, and launch the ball into the air. it pummels around the circular hoop over, and over, before sinking into the hole.

people begin to cheer, and i shoot them a minor scowl. did i miss the memo that this practice was a match? because they're acting like it.

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