Chương 11: Second Chance at First Line

As Crimson yanks his locker open, he spots Larch whispering to another player. He attempts to eavesdrop using his sharp hearing... But the loud banging of lockers drowns out the voice, making Crimson flinch in discomfort. Once the noise fades into a faint, irritating ring, the player nods and leaves, while Larch leans over to murmur into another teammate's ear. Churro strolls into the locker room, slipping his uniform over his pads. He sees Crimson sitting on the bench. He takes a deep breath and walks over.

"Are you going to try to talk me out of playing?"

"I just hope you're aware of what you're doing."

"If I don't play, I lose my spot on the first line. And I lose Willow."

"Willow isn't going anywhere. And it's just one game you don't have to play..."

"I want to play. I want to be part of the team, I want to date Willow. I want a semi-freaking normal life. Do you understand that?" Crimson interrupted him. Churro falls silent, then gives a knowing nod and mutters, "I get it." Crimson grabs his gear while Churro follows him out.

"Just try not to stress too much when you're out there, okay? And try to keep your cool."

"Got it."

"And don't worry about Willow being there. Don't think about her father trying to off you. Or Autzee trying to off you. Or the girl he killed. Or that you might kill someone. If a hunter doesn't get you first. I'll stop talking now."

Crimson steps onto the field, with Churro trailing behind him. Taking a nervous breath, he looks over at the bleachers, where Aqua Croft stands up and waves. She actually came. Then Willow and her father, Mr. Ash, show up, making their way to find a decent spot.

"Oh God..." And then Scara descends the bleachers, passing right by her.

"Crimson." She slides two fingers into his chest plate and yanks him extremely, extremely close.

"I just need you to remember one thing for tonight...

"Winning isn't everything?" That was his reply. She shakes her head before telling him, "Nobody likes a loser." Crimson gives a nod and turns back to the field, letting out a heavy sigh. Coach passes him on his way to Larch.

"How's the shoulder? it doesn't hurt?" He answered, putting the Coach at ease.

"If I punched it really hard, would it hurt?"

"Maybe."

"If I took a ball-peen hammer... Never mind that. I'm not sure where I was heading with that. Just give it your all, and if you feel any pain, any discomfort at all..."

"Just keep playing?"

"That's my boy." The whistle sounds, sending Larch, Crimson, and the whole team charging off the bench and onto the field. Churro stays put with the other bench warmers, nervously chewing on the fingers of his gloves. Out on the field, Crimson walks to take his spot. He pulls his helmet down and shuts his eyes for a brief moment.

"Please, let this go smoothly." Glaring at him from beneath his own helmet, Larch strides confidently onto the field. Then he turns his back to him. Over at the benches, Valentine taps Churro on the shoulder.

"Hey kiddo. Any chance you'll get some action tonight?"

"Action? Definitely a possibility." On the field, Larch moves to face the opposing player at the draw. The Ref places the ball down on the grass. Sound fades away around Crimson. Only his uneasy breathing and that ever-pounding heart remain.

"Please... please..." The Ref slowly lifts the whistle to his lips. Larch tightens his grip on his stick, teeth clenched on his mouth guard as the whistle blows, Larch scoops up the ball before the opposing player can even blink. Crimson moves quickly, weaving around the others, trying to get open for a pass as fast as he can, but Larch tosses the ball to another teammate. Slap checks come down hard on Lantern City, and the ball rolls across the grass, loose for anyone to grab.

He rushes forward to take it, but Larch gets there first. It's almost as if he's snatching the ball away from Crimson. Whipping his stick around, he launches a shot toward the opposing goal. The ball finds the net. The crowd in the bleachers cheers, shouts for Larch rising among them.

"That's it Larch! Get fired up!" From the field, Crimson sees Scara whisper something into Willow's ear. At the bleachers, the two girls reach down and pick up a piece of poster, raising it high above their heads. The poster reads: "We luv u Larch!" From the bench, Churro looks up to see Scara and Willow holding the poster over their heads.

"Brutal." On the field, a fuming Crimson stares at it in disbelief.

"This is not going to end well." The whistle blows again, but no matter how fast Crimson moves, the ball never seems to land in his pocket. He keeps trying, play after play. In the bleachers, the disappointment on Aqua Croft's face lands like a punctuation mark after every missed pass, every missed opportunity. But then, as Crimson adjusts his helmet, he hears something, voices entering his head. Larch talks to Danny, the goalie. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Only to me."

"But what if he's open?" Crimson stands still, head tilted, finally catching what Larch has been whispering to the other players.

"Who's the captain, Danny? You or me?"

"Larch, come on, dude. I just want to win."

"We'll win."

"But..."

"What did I say? What. Did. I. Say?"

"Don't pass to Croft." Larch taps him on the helmet and heads to his position, right past Crimson. Standing there with his gloves twisting around the stick, he looks like he's about to snap it into tiny pieces. When the whistle blows again, he looks up, and through his helmet we can see, his eyes turning yellow.

As the new quarter begins, the Ref strides past the players with the ball, only to halt when a peculiar sound echoes from behind him. Crimson Croft stands hunched over, his face hidden in darkness beneath his helmet.

"You okay, kid?" The referee inquired. He gives a slow nod, unaware that Larch is also glancing back as the rival player approaches for the face-off.

"Set!" Both squads get ready for the face-off. Yet now, odd sounds are audible across the field. A low rumble. Beastly breaths. Crimson's frame appears to swell with each inhale, as if poised to spring from the ground and strike. Uneasy, the other athletes cautiously step backward. Even the spectators start to edge forward in their seats.

"Which one is Crimson again?" Willow asked.

"Number Eleven. Otherwise known as the one who hasn't caught a single pass all game." Scara replied on behalf of her friend.

"I hope he's alright."

"I hope we're alright. We've got to win." Scara lifts the sign once more and turns it over.

"Willow? A little help here?" She reluctantly assists Scara in holding up the sign. The reverse side declares: "LARCH IS #1!!" With his head turned toward the stands, Crimson spots it. And that's the last straw. He lets out a furious snarl through clenched teeth as a crack snakes up the side of his helmet.

"What the hell are we waiting for?" Larch scoffed. The Ref blows the whistle. The sound rips across the field, blaring like a fire alarm inside Crimson's head. Larch and the opposing player fight for the ball, launching it into the air where Crimson leaps up and snatches it with eerie precision. The crowd lets out a collective "woah" as he lands and sprints back down the field, zooming past Larch, whose jersey flutters in Crimson's wake. With a sudden whoosh, the ball soars.

Straight past the goalie and into the net. Both Aqua and Willow jump up, shouting. Scara gets knocked in the shoulder. Only lightly, but her expression is pure irritation. Churro follows Coach, clutching one of his gloves and chewing on the index finger.

"To Croft! Pass to Croft!" A furious Larch turns to his teammates. One of them shrugs, pointing at the scoreboard. City is down by one now, with only a minute left on the clock.

"Set!" Crimson's stance was shaky, unsteady. Like that of a predator. The other team takes a few frightened steps back, as if sensing they're sharing the field with something extremely dangerous. The whistle blows and he's off again. He goes for the ball, but the other team grabs it. Crimson attempts a slap check. The opposing player is so rattled he simply tosses the ball to him.

"Did the opposing team just deliberately pass the ball to us?"

"I believe so, Coach."

"Interesting. Helpful, but interesting." Charging past the other players like a lightning bolt, Crimson fires at the net. The goalie twists, raising his lacrosse stick to make the save. But the ball tears right through the pocket of his stick. Fans in the bleachers cheer as the ball hits the net. The goalie lowers his stick to see the torn pocket. Crimson backs away as both coaches surround the ref, shouting and arguing with twenty seconds left on the clock.

"Goal!" The Lantern City crowd erupts, the game now tied. While the opposing team swaps goalie sticks, Larch glances back at Crimson, who keeps his head down. He was breathing heavily, mouth full of fangs, eyes yellow. Desperately trying to hide himself.

"Set!" The ref said one last time today. Larch reluctantly takes his position for the face-off.

"What the hell's up with your teammate, dude? What's he on?"

"I don't know. Yet." The whistle blows, and both he and the opposing player go for the ball, which tumbles from their grasp. Larch swipes down to grab it. The ball spins into the air as Crimson whips past, snatching it mid-flight once more. He charges toward the goal, and something shifts, his eyes burn brighter, the yellow tint turning into a glowing yellow, pure animal instinct taking over. As the other players close in, he hesitates, as if unsure where to go.

"Crimson, no..." And for a moment, it's almost as if Crimson isn't charging at the goal but at the nearest player, charging at prey. Until, amid the chaos of noise, one voice cuts through...

"Come on, Crimson. You can do it." He blinks, the glow in his eyes dimming back down as Willow's voice pulls him from the edge of animal rage. Then, as the opposing team advances, Crimson shoots on goal. And despite the goalie's desperate dive, the ball hits the net as cheers thunder around him. Breathing hard, Crimson steps back a few paces. Everyone rushes toward him, people jumping off the bench to congratulate him. His mother, Aqua, and Scara also step down. And worst of all... Ash.

Retreating, Crimson yanks off one of his gloves, revealing the claws at his fingertips.

"No, no..." Willow hurries onto the field. All she can see is a swarm of lacrosse players in identical uniforms. They each pull off their helmets, but none of them is Crimson. Churro collapses onto the bench, still a nervous wreck. Behind him, his dad gets off his cell phone. He notices.

"Dad? What's wrong?"

Crimson bursts through the locker room door with a violent crash. He strides to the mirror, yanking off his helmet to study his reflection. He's still a werewolf. Still a monster. With a frustrated cry, he drives a clawed fist into the mirror, shattering it. Countless fragments tumble down around him, his face splitting into countless mirrored pieces. As one sliver of glass wobbles to a stop on the floor, the locker room door swings open again.

"Crimson" Willow steps inside but halts when Crimson's helmet rolls eerily to a stop before her on the ground. She moves closer. Turns the corner. But pauses again at the crunch of glass beneath her shoes. She scans the scattered shards. Then, just as she lifts her gaze, a shadow glides across the floor. She doesn't see it. Or the dark figure above her on the lockers, creeping backward.

"Crimson, are you here?" She rounds a corner to find an empty row of lockers. Backing away, she freezes at a strange shuffling sound. Pressing her back against a locker, she's clearly terrified now. She gulps visibly and...

"Crimson?" She reaches up, touches the steel lockers, and slowly steps around to discover Crimson. But his back is to her, hiding his face.

"Hey. Are you okay? Crimson?" He doesn't move. Only the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply. Willow keeps approaching, stretching out a hand when he turns around. And he's back to normal.

"You scared me. Are you all right?"

"Sorry. Just felt really dizzy for a second." That made her chuckle softly before calming, murmuring, "Maybe it's the adrenaline. You were pretty amazing out there."

"Thanks. And sorry for acting completely weird today."

"It's okay. I can handle weird."

"To be totally honest, you make me kind of nervous."

"I do?" This surprised Willow a bit, but it must be because she was his type or something else.

"Kind of really nervous. I just want to make sure I get my second chance."

"You already have it. I'm just waiting for you to take it."

"Maybe I need to learn to take more chances."

"Maybe you do." And then he does. By kissing her. Stepping toward her, he presses his lips gently to hers. Startled, she freezes at first. But then leans into him, kissing him back. And for a fleeting moment, Crimson's life is utterly and completely perfect. Until Churro rushes in to find him. He skids to a stop, though, when he sees them together. But while hanging back, he can't help but watch as Crimson and Willow pull away from the kiss, smiling at each other with the kind of sweetness known to first love.

"I need to get back to my Dad." Crimson nods and with that perfect smile, she steps away.

"Hi, Churro." She says before leaving. Churro gives a nod as she passes by and then turns to Crimson.

"I kissed her and she kissed me."

"I saw that too."

"It's pretty good, huh?" Crimson nods, practically drunk with happiness.

"I don't know how but I controlled it. I pulled it back. Maybe I can do this. Maybe it's not that bad."

"Yeah. We should talk later then." Churro turns to go, but Crimson catches up to him.

"What?"

"The medical examiner looked at the other half of the body we found." Churro said reluctantly.

"And?"

"I'll keep it simple. Medical Examiner determines killer of girl to be animal not human. Auztee is human not animal. Autzee not killer. Auztee let out of jail."

"Are you kidding?"

"No, and here's the bigger kick in the ass. My Dad ID'd the dead girl. Both halves. Her name was Laura Tale."

"Tale? Autzee's sister." And as the realization of a much more complicated mystery hits Crimson, he doesn't seem to notice that he's missing one of his lacrosse gloves. And as the realization of a much more complicated mystery hits Crimson, he doesn't seem to notice that he's missing one of his lacrosse gloves.

Standing by himself on the pitch, still seething, Larch's gaze locks onto something abandoned in the turf... Crimson's glove. Gently, he retrieves it, observing peculiar rips near the fingers. They're tiny punctures. As if sharp, uneven objects had been thrust through them. Larch spins around to spot an observer on the edge of the field... Autzee. With an odd grin, he offers the bewildered lad a slight nod, almost like a greeting. Then he pivots, departing from the field, marching directly into the gloom.