8. A Demon Appears

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Lockers slammed shut. Fellow teammates changed into the game uniform; a solid purple lined with black for the jersey and a pair of black shorts. I changed slowly, musing to myself in an isolated corner. There was this one girl, I disliked her so much I won't mention her real name. Dana and I called her 'Delilah' after a despicable female character in a video game who kidnapped children and drank their blood to retain her youth. Dana entered through the back door and dropped her bag next to mine. She took off her top without a care as if she trusted me not to stare. I watched her reveal her firm brown stomach and covered breast. I wondered if she would notice. She slapped my arm and shot me a harsh glance.

I chuckled. "You look sexy," I told her.

"Thanks," she said, adjusting her hair, "but I'm not looking this good for your pleasure."

"Then who?"

"I might have a date later," she said.

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Timmy."

"Bell?"

"Smith."

"Timmy Smith? The computer nerd?"

She glared. "He's not a nerd- he's a computer enthusiast."

"Right..."

She jabbed her elbow into my stomach. "Shut up."

"Ow," I said in a child-like voice. "Meanie."

"If you keep annoying me, I will hit you again," Dana warned.

"That's too bad. I like it rough; I like it steamy," I whispered.

Dana picked up her shirt from the bench and twisted it before whipping it across my back. A sharp pain ignited where the cloth impacted. I caught it before she could do any more damage. "Okay, I'll stop. I won't tease you anymore."

While Dana and I conversed in soft voices, Delilah had no means of speaking at a quiet tone. It was impossible for her. When she opened her mouth, her speech was for those close to her and everyone else in the room. A small huddle of white women formed around her. They weren't the best players, but Delilah happened to be the coach's daughter and her friends were shoe-ins as daddy had to please his baby girl. Dana, the goalie and me were the ones that carried the team. Everyone else was there for decoration and to get out of class once in a while. I wondered if we would make it to the regional finals this year.

The room had fallen silent when it was interrupted by a shrill voice, "Naomi Johnson slept with Hunter Daniels at the party last night; I told you she was loose. She wanted the black D. God, she's so desperate. Every time I see her, it's like, girl, chill, you're trying way too hard to be relevant." Delilah flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Her friends laughed.

A vein pulsed in my jaw.

Dana placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't," she warned. "They're not worth it."

A wicked impulse arose to strangle Delilah at that very second. She looked directly at me. Her teasing demeanor, a test to see if I would snap. Her purple hair was pulled into a messy bun. I wanted to cut it free from its tyrant. Perhaps, the hair wasn't aware of the terror of its master like I was. Horns shot from her forehead, stubble grew on her chin. In that moment, she was less of a human and more like a satyr. My imagination ran wild, adding furry ears atop her head and a small tail by her tailbone. Her feet became round hooves.

She stood up, parting her friends as if they were the sea. "What are you staring at?" the half woman, half nanny goat asked.

"You."

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