Bleachers Novels & Stories

But she didn’t ask because it seemed like the sort of question that had no answer. They arrived at the baseball diamond, and Grandma led them to a spot on the bottom row of the bleachers. A few others were watching, some munching on popcorn or corn dogs. A few children were playing in the grassy area between the home team and visitors seating areas. Everyone was smiling, and the scoreboard read that both the team in red and the team in blue were tied at zero in the bottom of the second inning.

They don’t seem to mind, though, so more power to them, I guess. Beau holds out his hand. “Stay near me. Going to be packed as hell in there. I don’t want to lose you.” I take his offered hand. I don’t particularly want to be lost. Beau pushes us through the pack of people and we squeeze through the door. Inside, I’m surprised to find a slew of bleacher seats all circled around a ring in the center. The stands are jam packed with people who all seem to be shouting and cheering. In the wall, there’s a man behind glass. Above him reads a sign, Place your bets.

I’m almost to the locker room when my attention is yanked to the side. Oh, wow. A sizzle zings through my veins. I stop in my tracks and my soles squeak. At the end of the stands, on the bottom row of the bleachers—just sitting there—is a line of phones, wireless earbuds, and smart watches. More than a dozen of them. It’s a good thing Nia, Pritchard, and the other scavengers are outside watching Bevan get his ass kicked. There is no way on earth that any of them would be able to resist this much booty. It’s a feast. Like someone left the bank vault wide open.

I guess it really is all about perspective. FeeBee runs up to embrace them, clearly proud of them...for some reason. Jam, Oog, and Gland return her group hug. They then thank their audience before tossing some of their clothing bits into the audience and to their idiotic fans who stupidly fight with each other in order to get a small piece of the Dung Beatles. I don't get some people... AJ cheers wildly for them while I try to restrain her from going after them as they start to leave the stage.

The floor looks like steel, enough to help maintain one’s stance but also easy to fall if you are not prepared. In the close by, there are bleachers to view and a glass dome above where one can watch the fight from upstairs. I do not know why I imagine Kael being there, looking down at me, watching me intently with that smirk on his face, the same smirk he wears all morning whilst making life uneasy for me. But well, perhaps I love it. I smack myself mentally as I place my attention back on Valois, only for it to be distracted again.

In a moment, they were at the central platform under the arch. From that point of view, this place looked amazing. A set of domed glass elevators lifted visitors from the platform to the gallery and observation deck on top. The elevator track was detached from the sides of the arch while the platform at the base formed a plaza in itself and was covered by a permanent tent anchored by cables to the sides of the arch.

Reagan said, and I had the same thought. “Could we just let the man speak?” Calder said, bringing everyone’s attention back to me. “Yeah. What are we doing here?” Cole seconded. I let out another slow breath and climbed the metal steps to a higher row of the bleachers, the cold seeping through the seats as I settled in. From there, I had a clear view of all of them below - every movement, every shift of weight - spread across the ice and boards like pieces waiting to be set in place.

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

It's D-day and I'm nervous. It doesn't help that I'm sitting in the sun. I feel hot, sweaty and uncomfortable. The bleachers we're sitting on are right under the scorching sun. It baffles my mind that no one thought to create shade for the spectators. It's going to be a very long 90 minutes. I fan my face trying to get the cool air into my face but that doesn't help at all. I look around at the parents sitting in the bleachers with me. The majority of them are coupled up and I wish it was the same for me. I wish Shalom was sitting next to me. I feel terrible for the way things turned out.

I shook my head as I scoop my ice cream and put it straight into my mouth. "Clyde will get jealous and.. he will be cold towards Sean." "He will be cold towards me not Sean, you're a damn idiot." "That's why let's make a bet." "No!" "Oh come on Beverly." "No!" Suddenly my phone rang and I bet it's Mr. Han because he will be the only one who always calls me at night. He loves to make an emergency meeting which a little bit annoying. "Yes, Mr. Han." "I'm not your boss." My body froze and I turned to Becca in horror again. I mouthed 'Clyde'