Page 4 of Racking Up Penalties
“Keep at it,” he says with a firm pat on my shoulder pad before jogging off. That small exchange, more than any drill or play, anchors me to this team. “I’m not impressed!” Tyler’s voice cuts through the momentary peace, laced with venom.
“We all know what you’re doing, Brown,”someone retorts, and a few chuckles ripple through the team.
“Knock it off, Brown!” Coach’s voice booms over the field. “Our program is lucky to have him so help him get caught up and don’t mess this up.”
One of the guys on the defense leans in and whispers to me, “Tyler sucked. He needed replacing.”
Tyler and I spend the rest of practice going over the playbook. It’s his job to get me caught up which is incredibly awkward but after Coach yelled at him, he keeps his mouth shut.
Eastwood University is my new team and I am determined to make the most of it.
Chapter 3
September
The sharp click of my heels against the glossy tiles of Eastwood University’s fashion department echoes through the halls.
Today, my fingers itch to drape fabric on a mannequin, to transform a blank silhouette into a story of textures and colors. As I stride through the corridor, the weight of my sketchbook in my tote feels like a treasure.
“Morning, Tessa!” A chorus of greetings greets me as I push open the studio door, the hum of sewing machines wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.
“Hey, everyone!” I chirp back, shedding my coat with a flourish to reveal today’s ensemble—a daring mix of vintage and modern, a testament to my love affair with every era’s charm. “Ready to make magic?”
A buzz of affirmative responses fills the room, and I can’t help but spin in a little circle, letting the joy bubble up from my toes to the top of my head. Fashion, it’s not just what I do; it’s who I am. It’s the way I speak without words, how I leave my mark on the world.
“Your energy could power the city, Tess,” laughs Jenna, one of my classmates, as she watches me bounce over to my workstation.
“Only the city?” I tease, winking at her while I unpack my supplies. “Underestimating me, aren’t you?”
I open my sketchbook to a design I’m working on and grab the fabric I need. We get an hour of free time to work before our advanced fashion class begins. No one wants to waste that valuable time.
Fabric pools around me as my sewing machine hums. I’m in my element, lost in my work.
“Hey, Tess, what are you doing tonight?” The voice cuts through my concentration like a pair of shears, and I glance up to see Ben, one of the guys in my program.
There’s a rare Friday night football game tonight to kick off the season that I’ve committed to going to. It is Tristan’s, my best friend’s brother’s first game at Eastwood University. He just transferred here, probably to be closer to Emma. Every time I ask, he blows off the question.
“The football game,” I offer.
A couple of my friends raise their eyebrows.
“I didn’t know you liked football,” Ben says.
I can’t help laughing. “I don’t think I would if it wasn’t for my friend. I’m supporting him.”
There are nods of understanding. I don’t even ask if anyone wants to go with me, knowing their answer will be no.
I go back to my work. It’s a gown, bold and dramatic, destined to turn heads. A soft sigh escapes me as I imagine it on the runway, lights gleaming off the delicate beading, cameras clicking furiously to capture every angle.
That’s the dream.
“Montgomery,” Professor Hughes calls out, snapping me back to reality. She goes around the room during this free time offering suggestions and help. “That design, let’s discuss the practical aspects. Your vision is strong, but how will it move on a real body?”
“Of course, Professor.” My heart races, not from nerves, but from the thrill of problem-solving, of turning challenges into triumphs.
The rest of class rushes by and before I know it, I am packing up to leave.
Brushing a strand of red hair from my face, a soft buzz from my phone disrupts the silence; Emma’s name lights up the screen. Instantly, a smile tugs at my lips.
