Page 4 of Fighting Spirit

Shoulders poke out above the back of the couch, wearing something green and fuzzy. Six members of the team, including three of our new freshmen, are standing around the living room, staring at the person with varying expressions of shock and horror.

I rub my hand across my face, steeling myself against whatever bullshit is headed my way before heading down the steps, keeping my footsteps deliberately heavy to announce my arrival. Once I’ve got their attention, I ask, not sure I’m ready for the answer. “What the fuck is going on down here?”

I’m like Medusa; my face alone has turned them all to stone. Nobody moves; the only sound is the occasional holler from a party down the street.

I catch Darius’ eye, but he ducks my stare and looks over to Jasper. It takes a long time before anybody answers and the silence puts a knot in my gut. It sounds too much like the hush in the locker room before Coach Marshall chews us out, and the looks that the guys are giving one another make me feel like a parent coming down to bust a rowdy sleepover.

I let out a sigh that’s almost a growl. “Somebody start talking.” I raise an eyebrow as I hit the bottom step. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Rowan, it’s not that big a deal,” Jasper starts, moving to put the green head he’s holding down on the end of the sectional.

“It’s a very big deal!” the person on the couch practically spits at him. Taking several long strides, I eat up the distance until I’m standing beside Jasper and get my first look at the person sitting in the center of this mess.

It’s the eyes I notice first. Big and green, rimmed with dark lashes. Her round face is framed by a mess of wavy brown hair, a little frizzy with tendrils escaping from the low ponytail it’s been pulled back into. Her jaw’s clenched in fury as her nostrils flare, but despite her obvious rage, I can see that her eyes are swollen, as if she’s been crying. A bolt of anger shoots through me as I take in this girl, so determined for us not to see how freaked out she is.

I turn slowly, taking in the guilty faces of the guys. “Whose idea was this?”

“Taylor said-” Darius starts, but gets cut off by shouts, descending into arguments about who the real mastermind was.

“Hey!” I yell, drawing up to my full height. “Knock it off. Someone just tell me what the fuck happened tonight.”

I need to get this under control before things start spiraling, but I’m so pissed off my head feels like it’s about to fly off my neck. How could they be so irresponsible? This team’s been through enough, seen enough scrutiny in the past year to last a lifetime, and they’re pulling this? How many times has Coach explained that this year, of all years, is the one where we need to keep our heads down, toe the line, and not get caught in any more bullshit?

Taylor steps forward a pace, guilt marring his features. He’s a junior, and currently lined up to take over as starting quarterback next year. He’s not someone I would usually expect to get into all this. “We wanted something to mark our first win of the season.”

“So you figured a felony was the way to go?” I ask incredulously.

“There was a bit of a misunderstanding…” Darius chimes in.

Taylor looks down at the floor, the picture of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I might have said that it would be funny if some of the freshmen went to Allbreck and brought back Gunther.”

My gut churns, realization dawning as I look back at the girl on the couch. “You meant the animal.”

“I was not clear enough, apparently.” Taylor gives a half-hearted laugh; he catches my expression and straightens awkwardly.

“We didn’t know Allbreck had a girl in the suit,” Jasper adds.

“What the fuck has that got to do with anything?” the girl seethes.

“Well, we wouldn’t have knowingly kidnapped a lady…”

“You shouldn’t be kidnapping anybody!” she yells back, trying to stand up but struggling to get off the couch. The combination of her massive outfit and cushions that could swallow a grown man whole means she just gets sucked further in.

“Okay, okay.” I put out a placating hand, stepping between them. A pulsing pain starts to form at my temples from the strain of trying to keep my composure. “Let’s all simmer down. Jasper, she’s right. I can’t believe I have to even say this, but you can’t just grab people against their will and bring them home with you.”

“I didn’t actually do any of the grabbing.” His tone is petulant. “I was the driver.”

“You drive like an asshole,” she mutters under her breath.

“How would you know?” He leans around me to glare down at her. “You had a blindfold on.”

There’s a pause in the room as his words hit home.

“I did?” she asks, her confusion mirroring mine. Her head turns, expression baffled. My eyeline matches hers until it landson the mascot head sat next to her on the couch—the one with a carefully tied piece of black cloth over the set of eyes that protrude from the top.

The two of us stare at it for long moments, disbelief tinging the air. I almost have to laugh at how ridiculous this whole thing is, but then I remember the look in her red-rimmed eyes, and I’m pissed off all over again.

“This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me…” she murmurs, her voice tinged with shock.

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