Chapter 007: The Face-Off (2)

AXEL.

Stepping onto the pitch, I’m in awe at how massive it is. Hayley wasn’t exaggerating: it’s way bigger than the one back at my old school in Ashbrae. I glance around and most of the team is lounging on the benches, a handful of them deep in conversation. At the end of the bench, a few others are casually tossing a football back and forth.

Turning to the stands, I observe that they’re mostly empty, except for a small crowd of students on the east side who are probably here out of boredom, curious to watch the new guys prove themselves.

Perfect. Just what I need—an audience.

My eyes are still glued to the small group of students when I spot Hayley sitting next to Corey. They’re both peering at their phones until Corey looks up and sees me. She waves, then nudges Hayley, who lifts her head and beams at me with a smile so warm, it settles something uneasy in me.

I smile back and give a quick wave, and right then, my thoughts drift to that evening at her house.

The kiss.

It’s been stuck in my head ever since. I rake a hand through my hair as I turn my attention away from the group in the stands. Kissing Hayley felt… right. And somehow, completely wrong. In all the years we grew up together, I've only ever cared for her like a sibling.

Up until the kiss.

Now everything feels so different. And it's not just the kiss—it’s the feelings it welled up in me as my hands felt her neck, my fingers trailing idly on her skin…

I shouldn’t feel that way. Not towards Hayley.

Coach Phillips blows his whistle from the center of the field, snapping me back to the moment. He’s flanked by nine other boys as he waves me over and I jog up to join them.

“Now listen up, boys,” he starts in a loud voice. “I want to see your A-game out there, alright? The Greystone Silverbacks aren’t a bunch of pussies. If you want a spot on this team, I need fire, grit, and heart. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!” we yell in unison.

“Good. You’ll be split into two teams of five. First to score five touchdowns wins this round. Let’s go!”

I head over to join my team at one end of the pitch. Most of them look tense, their eyes darting around nervously. One in particular, a short-statured boy with freckles on both sides of his cheeks, is fumbling with his helmet strap.

“Here, let me help,” I say to him, fastening the strap in place. After setting the helmet properly, I give his shoulder pad a light pat and he flinches a little.

“You good?” I ask.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbles, adjusting his glasses under the helmet.

“I’m Axel,” I add, holding out a hand.

But he doesn’t take it. “Harold.”

“Don’t worry, Harold. We’ve got this,” I wink. And for just a second, he lets out the smallest smile.

Coach blows his whistle. “Ready?” Both teams nod. “And… go!”

Immediately, the game springs to life. The minute the ball lands on the turf, players on both sides collide together in ridiculous fashion in a bid to seize hold of it. Amidst the small chaos, one thing becomes clear—every boy on the field is a newbie at football. The more boys stumble over themselves, the more it starts to look less like a tryout and more like a circus.

A player on the opposing side flings the ball to his teammate, but he’s too slow. And so I snatch it clean and weave my way past two defenders effortlessly. Another dives for my legs and misses, crashing to the ground with a grunt.

There's just one man left now and he's right in front of me.

Through his helmet, I catch the flicker of panic in his eyes. I feint left, then cut hard to the right immediately. As he lunges the wrong way, I fly past him, dropping the ball clean into the end zone.

“That’s more like it, son!” Coach yells, blasting his whistle again.

The ball gets to me once more and I mow through the opposing team like a machine, scoring again. Then again. And again.

Three. Four. I know it's just tryouts, but I’m on fire at this point as it’s almost too easy for me.

I’m way faster and stronger than any of the other boys on the field. As I charge forward for the fifth time, the opposing team finally braces. They form a wall, rooting themselves firmly on the line, ready to stop me.

Still, I know I could bulldoze straight through without breaking a sweat. But then I spot Harold running beside me, huffing and puffing with every step forward as he tries to keep up.

So I draw the defenders in, make it look like I’m going for it, but at the last second, I toss the ball his way. Harold fumbles for a moment and almost loses it, but he manages to hold on and cross the line for the final touchdown.

The field erupts in cheers as Coach’s whistle signals the end of play.

From the small crowd in the stands, one clap rises above the rest. When I turn in that direction, I find Hayley on her feet, smiling wide and clapping just for me. A warm flutter stirs in my chest and I give her a small wave.

Then I see him.

Shane, seated on the bench with his gaze intently fixed on me. His eyes shift to Hayley, noticing the way she watches me. With that, he stands from the bench and strides across to Coach Phillips, leaning in to whisper something with his eyes still glued to me.

I try to focus my keen sense of hearing on what is been said, but I’m too far away to get anything.

Coach blows his whistle again, calling us in.

“Good work, boys. I loved that energy,” he remarks proudly. “Now we’re mixing things up.” He signals to a few of the starters. “I’m pulling three players from each side and reshuffling the teams. We’ll play a few more minutes, then call it.”

Three boys from the other team step off the field and Shane and his crew take their place. A cold knot forms in my stomach as I watch them strap their gear.

All three of them are here for me and I know it. Shane in particular.

When Coach blows his whistle to kick the game into gear, I sprint toward the edge of the field, putting as much distance as I can between myself and Shane’s trio. A teammate launches the ball towards me and when I catch it, I tear down the field with nothing but open space ahead of me.

But just then, like a freight train, someone slams into me with brute force.

I hit the ground with a thud, the air knocked from my lungs as I clutch my ribs. Amidst the pain, I hear coach’s whistle shriek for a timeout.

Through blurred vision, I blink up and I see him.

Shane is towering above me with a sinister look on his face. Pulling off his helmet, he crouches low to meet me at face level.

“Show me your real eyes,” he growls in a low voice.

I've had enough of it. I'm about to cuss at him but I stop dead when I see it.

His eyes—they’re suddenly glowing a deep crimson red.

A rush of fear ripples through me, like ice in my veins.

Shane tilts his head, eerily calm. “You can’t do it, can you?”

Coach Phillips blows his whistle again. “O’Connor, back on. New kid, you sit the rest of this one out.”

Shane stands upright and makes a show of helping me up, offering a hand. As he lifts me to my feet, he leans in close.

“I’ll find you tonight, green eyes,” he whispers. “And there’ll be no escaping then.”

He lets go without another word and jogs back onto the field.

Harold, now sitting on the bench, rushes over and throws my arm around his shoulder, helping me down the tunnel and toward the locker room. My entire body is in severe pain, but it’s nothing compared to the chaos swirling in my head as realization slowly sets in.

Shane is a werewolf. Just like me.

But it’s not the truth of what he is that rattles me most.

It’s what he said: Finding me tonight.

Because tonight, there’ll be a full moon.