Letterman Jacket

4 / seventy-six days before

"Here, I got something. What if Claude turns into a vampire? And then—"

"Dad," I cut in, setting the glass of chocolate milk on the table in front of me and raising my eyebrows. "Come on, really? We're back with the vampires again?"

His face twisted into a grimace, features drawing in together as he took off his eyeglasses and placed them on his desk. "Ah, you're right, kid. The last time I wrote a book about vampires—"

"—attempted to write," I corrected, fingers playing with the end of my braid. "Dad, it was terrible."

My father sent me a flat look at the insult, and I smiled sheepishly. Sighing heavily, he propped an elbow on his office desk and rested his chin on it, tapping his cheek with his fingers as he stared at his laptop screen sulkily. "Why is Claude such a difficult character to write? I've been stuck with him sipping his wine for the past week. I cannot make him move, kiddo, and this plot line isn't progressing."

I let out a laugh, because that was exactly how I felt about the article I was supposed to be writing. Before I could answer, however, the door opened and my mother came sauntering in wearing her high heels in a gray dress shirt and a pencil skirt, holding a briefcase on one hand and a plate of bacon and eggs on the other.

"Thea, why do you think I'm confident I'm going to win today's case? You look lovely, darling, but put your feet down."

I shrugged, taking the plate from her hands as she kissed my father good morning. "You have a new eye witness?"

Lea Simmons shook her head, a wide smile on her face. "New information, actually, which means I have a pretty high chance of proving my client innocent."

I nodded, pretending to be interested as I took bites from the delicious breakfast. "But is he? Innocent, I mean."

"I got it!" Dad suddenly exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "After Claude sips his wine, he goes to the bathroom and finds Marissa brutally murdered and bloody in the bathtub!"

"Who?" Mom questioned, furrowing her eyebrows together in confusion as she glanced at me.

I waved my hand dismissively. "Characters, Mom. It's part of his job, remember? Dad, you already made Noah find Diane murdered and bloody in the bathtub in The Rise at Sixth Street."

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "Thanks, kiddo. How could I forget about Noah and Diane? I'm running out of creative ideas."

"Who wouldn't after writing countless of best-selling books?" My mother smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder after tightening her blonde hair into a bun.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, telling me Theo was ready to go. Downing the last of the chocolate milk, I kissed both of their cheeks and grabbed my backpack from the carpeted floor. "We're off to school. Mom, good luck with your case."

The sky above promised rain with its tumultuous, dark, ragged clouds. With my breath coming out in small puffs of smoke as the chilly air spread across my skin, I rushed to open the passenger door of Theo's Audi R8, which had been a present for him when we'd turned eighteen a few months back. We'd been meant to share it, but Theo had claimed it his at that time when I didn't have my license yet. He didn't like sharing.

"You and Dad been writing a whole novel in there?" he asked as I strapped myself in the passenger's seat, turning the heat on.

"Nope, Claude hasn't even moved an inch for a week now."

"Who?"

"Character, Theo. It's part of his job, remember?"

*

Fishing out some spare change from my pocket, I inserted them into the slot of the vending machine to get myself a pack of M&M's before I made myself hungry from watching the jocks train for the next game. Gunner was right—it did run out of Skittles.

In the gymnasium, giggles and whispers from the female students could be heard over the squeaks of Nike shoes and the dribbling of basketballs. They filled the bleachers with love-struck eyes and enthusiastic smiles, undeniably only here to drool over the athletes and to get a sneak peek of their muscles. I tore the snack open with my teeth just before a red sports bag was dumped into the space in front of me.

"You came."

I looked up, and my gaze was met with eyes like the ocean, flecked with every shade of blue. "Well, I didn't exactly have a choice."

Standing in his number eleven jersey, basketball shorts and worn-out shoes, Faust's lips curled upwards into a lazy, half-smile. "Any words for motivation?"

I shrugged. "Just dunk it, captain."

Faust let out a laugh—a sound so musically appealing that came from the deep rumble of his chest. He backed away a few steps, snapped his fingers and pointed at me with a wide, stupid grin on his face. "It's co-captain, actually, but will do."

I popped three different button-shaped chocolates into my mouth once he climbed down the staircase to join his team, and Coach Greenberg blew his whistle, the shrill sound of it resonating the whole gymnasium. "Huddle up, ladies!"

In a state of interest, objective, and purpose, my eyes followed his every move as Faust positioned himself on his coach's right side. Theo stood on the other, closely watching me with narrowed eyes and creased eyebrows.

I popped three more button-shaped chocolates into my mouth.