Astrid Johansson is used to moving around. She's done it since she was 3 years old, and has traveled as far as the east coast.
Upon arriving to Beacon Hills, her birth place, she expects it to be the same as always. They stay for a short while, her...
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Astrid zipped her warm-up jacket to her chin before stepping into the February cold. Actually, California's idea of cold wasn't cold at all; 55 degrees was nothing compared to -13. But anything less than 60 was an absolute disgrace in her eyes. The brunette bounced on the balls of her feet with her hands in her pockets, trying to hype herself up for her first official game. This one wouldn't be ruined by murderous Hales breaking out of an assisted living facility.
Her teammates were scattered on the bleachers behind her. Some were actually on the bleachers getting their equipment together, others were holding conversations. But there were also the opposing team members and fans there to cheer the Beacon Hills Cyclones on. One of which was Makoa Johansson, who smiled as he made his way down the bleachers to greet his daughter.
"I didn't think you would make it." the girl admitted, looking up at her dad with wide eyes.
"I think I should support my daughter in everything she does," Makoa said with a smile, though it fell.
He pulled Astrid in for a hug, to which the girl reluctantly pulled her hands out of their warm covers to wrap her arms around her dad. Makoa was always strangely warm and Astrid sighed at the heat. A kiss was placed against the top of her head, making her smile.
"I'm proud of you, you know?"
Astrid tilted her head back in order to look at her dad and tried her best to nod her head. In a teasing maneuver, Makoa pulled the girl's ponytail out from under her jersey before leaving to sit back on the bleachers. Astrid scowled at her father as she adjusted her hair once more. The brunette took a seat at the bottom of the bleachers and made sure that everything was set for the game.
Her game.
⁂
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Astrid watched as the largest player on the opposing team rammed number 9 on her team. The skinny boy flew at least two feet through the air before smacking against the ground. Her brown eyes were wide in terror the entire time.
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